“That’s all she wants,” I said. “I’m happy for it to be more and I wouldn’t mess her about.”
He nodded. “Thank you for looking after her. As much as Payts looks after everyone else, she forgets to look after herself, just like her mother did until she learnt better. The rest is up to you. Jackson said you played a good game today?”
And the conversation stayed on the safer topic of rugby until Payton returned with Marie, looking brighter, happier.
* * *
I took her home via Max’s to pass on how her father was and grab some leftovers from dinner. It was close to eight in the evening and it felt like a different day than the one where she’d watched me play rugby. She was quiet on the way home, although with her siblings she had been talkative, explaining how he was and how their mum was doing.
“Do you want me to come up with you?” I asked as I pulled into the parking space for her apartment. I wasn’t sure how to read her right now; she was locked in her mind and nothing was spilling out through her eyes.
“Come up, please. I don’t need to talk but I don’t want to be on my own. Unless you need to go?” she said, eyes on me, wide and questioning.
“I’ve nowhere I need to be. My mum’s staying at her friend’s again tonight so she’s not expecting me to call in or anything.” I grabbed my phone and wallet from the car. “Let’s watch some crap on Netflix or something. Max was going on about some new series him and Victoria are addicted to.”
“Sounds good,” she said and I followed her to the elevator which she never usually took.
“You need me to carry you?”
She stared at me before laughing loudly. “Do I look that tired?”
“Yes, but you’re still beautiful.”
“How do you say that without it sounding corny?”
“Because it’s genuine.” The elevator stopped and I followed her out, my hand on the small of her back.
Her apartment was tidy. There were throws and cushions that looked new on her sofa and a pile of magazines on the coffee table. She disappeared to her bedroom and returned five minutes later wearing the short, silky dressing gown I’d seen her in before. Her legs were bare as was her neck. I was in fucking trouble if I thought too much about what was underneath.
“I’ve made tea,” I said, holding up a mug.
She walked into the kitchen and picked up hers, her hair mussed and face bare. “Sorry I look a mess. And don’t say I look beautiful again because I know I don’t.”
“It’s a matter of opinion. I don’t think you look a mess; I think you look fucking gorgeous.” I didn’t let her eyes drop from mine, holding her gaze. The air in the room felt thick with her unspoken words. I didn’t question her or probe; I didn’t need to know what she was thinking.
Her hand went to my arm. “Sit with me on the sofa?”
I followed her—I would’ve followed her fucking anywhere—and sat down, shifting cushions. She sat next to me, flicking on the TV and sipping her tea. “I think this is it,” she said. “I’m not sure how much I’ll take in.”
“I’ll give you the cliff notes later.”
There was a soft laugh and we both grew quiet. Her head began to lean on my shoulder, her leg pressed to mine. The stool was at the other side of the room so I took her empty mug from her hands and shuffled on the seat so my legs stretched out, manipulating one behind her, then moved her in between, so her back rested on my chest. It was not the sitting position of friends and I knew that the feel of her heat against mine and the slip of skin I could see down her dressing gown would mean it wasn’t just my back she’d be pressing against.
“Comfy?” I said as I tucked my chin against her neck. She leaned back further into me, taking one of my arms and putting it around her waist like a seat belt.
“Yes,” she said and I felt her relax, one of her hands resting on the outside of my thigh. We watched another episode, but I couldn’t tell what happened. I was too hyper aware of the woman I was holding, how she felt against me, the softness of her, her scent.
The episode ended and she turned her face and body so it was easier for her to see me. “Owen,” she said, her lids heavy. One hand went to my shoulder and she placed her hand on me and twisted, bringing her to her knees in between my legs.
“Payton,” I said, trying to lighten the atmosphere which was starting to crackle.
“Will you stay? I don’t want to be on my own.”
“Sure,” I said. “Course I’ll stay.”
She smiled, looked shy, awkward. “Will you stay with me? In my bed?”
“Payton…” This time her name was a groan. “I only have so much fucking willpower. And you want to just be friends.”
