“Yes. But unlike you, this is my only source of income. I can’t afford to be as relaxed.” She was snapping.
“Go get a glass of wine, Lotte, or a massage – whatever it is you do to relax at the moment, and you’ve got enough money to buy a large Caribbean island.”
“Call me tomorrow. Enjoy your date.” Her sigh sounded tired.
“Thank you.” I hung up without waiting for her to say goodbye, because that would lead to her trying to throw in questions to keep me on the phone for longer and not with Otter.
“Have you saved the world?” Otter held up two bags of food. “I have your reward here.”
I nodded, eyeing up her instead of dinner. Maybe she was dinner. “Let’s eat.”
She nodded, pointing to a couple of plates that were set out on the desk. “Table for two.”
CHAPTER10
Otter
We ate.Talked. Laughed.
I didn’t ask him about the work he’d just done, because we weren’t filling out dating questionnaires to locate the loves of our lives, and if he wanted to bring it up, he would. Instead, we talked about the news, seasons in the country, houses where we’d like to live. We searched the internet for properties to buy, finding the most audaciously designed and pretending we were showing the house for a prospective buyer.
Throughout every word said, two of mine were held back.
When did a hook up stop being that? Because in this carbon copy hotel room, the empty Chinese trays squished in the bin, music playing from one of our phones, we had escaped reality. We both apparently needed that.
Which was why we were both choosing what we said carefully. Reality didn’t need to encroach on what was happening here in our own little world.
“Did you think of five questions?” I asked, the duvet wrapped round my legs, the little vest and a pair of knickers the only things I’d put on to cover up while we were eating.
Ryan nodded. “I did.”
“When did you come up with them?”
“Is that one of your questions?” He had a smile that was teasing and cute at the same time, and I doubted he knew just how panty-melting it was. I doubted he knew just how attractive he was either.
I shook my head. “No. I just want to know.”
He lay down next to me, stretching out those long, muscular legs that I wasn’t afraid to admit I’d dreamed about.
“I decided on two yesterday when I was in the sauna. The other three I thought of on the team bus on Tuesday.”
I knew Manchester Athletic had won on Tuesday, an away game at Everton. They were aiming to win the league, but Ryan had said when we’d talked during the week that it was unlikely. They didn’t have the depth in their squad this season, and it would be more likely next season before they could confidently mount a challenge.
I’d studied the game in between shoots this week, trying to get my head around the offside rule, something that took a conversation with my dad, followed by directing him how to use Zoom and screen share. I felt like I was fifteen again and he was trying (unsuccessfully) to help me with my maths revision. But I now had a pretty good understanding of what the offside rule was, as well as a detailed history of the English Football League, something Daddy-dear had indoctrinated into me once he realised I was showing half an interest in the sport he loved.
“So you’re not just coming up with them now?” Which was what most men would’ve done.
“No. I like to be prepared.”
I thought of the laptop he’d pulled from his bag and wondered exactly what other secrets he was keeping. What else was there that I’d never know?
I was awash with bittersweetness.
This was a snatched moment, probably one of those flickers of a living photo that would burn in my memory in ten or twenty years. I’d wonder what he was doing, who he was with.
What could’ve been.
“Who starts?” He took my hand in his, entwining our fingers. “Me or you to go first?”
