“Unimpressed, huh? Well, tell me. What was the right answer?”
“Flatmates,” I tell him, bumping his shoulder.
“Well, some would say that married couples are flatmates,” he jokes, his dimples popping, and I have the strangest urge to reach out and touch them.To touch him.
“Yeah, but most married couples share a room, which is something I’m not interested in.”
He quirks a brow and asks, “Not ever or not now?”
“Never. I think having personal space and a place to decompress that’s entirely your own is important in any kind of relationship.”
“I agree,” he says, tugging me from my more self-deprecating thoughts. “I’d like to get married one day, but I want my own room. Our current set-up is ideal,” he adds, that last part like an afterthought, his eyes flickering with something I can’t describe. He bites his lip, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Really? You seem like a cuddler to me.”
His cheeks flush bright pink. “The only person I’ve ever cuddled is you, but I can’t say I don’t enjoy it.”
Elijah’s willingness to be open with me, even when I can tell that it makes him uncomfortable, pushes me to share more than I’d often bother to. “I was never a huge fan of physical touch, but it feels more natural with you,” I admit, a little shocked at the truth in those words.
“Adhira, are you afraid of cooties?” he asks, his voice flowing with light laughter, and my heart swells at the sound.
“As a matter of fact, yes. But mostly, the sensation of another person’s flesh rubbing against mine makes me physically ill, almost always.”
He swallows, his next words leaving his mouth in a rush. “If you were married, whose bed would you snuggle in?”
“As I previously stated, I'm not sure I'm much of a ‘snuggler,’ but sex wouldn't be in my bed,” I scoff. “I don't want the secretions in my sheets.”
He snorts, then laughs so hard he practically chokes, and I can't help but wonder what he finds so funny.
“You have a fair point,” he says between wheezes, “but why do you have to make it sound so clinical?” He has tears in his eyes, and his face is as red as a tomato.His circulation must be incredible with the way his blood vessels react to every little thing.
“I've never enjoyed sex much. I have a hunch that I'm probably demisexual, only able to gain pleasure from being with someone else sexually after falling for them emotionally.” I leave out the fact that, before meeting him, I didn't realise that was even a possibility for me. I've never felt this—well, what Ithinkis sexual attraction and a whole lot of tension—before getting to know Elijah. And now that I've experienced it, I'm not sure if I hate it or if I'm utterly obsessed.
“I think I might experience something similar, but I'm not sure—I might never have fooled around with anyone to find out because I was too busy and it wasn't worth making time for.”
“Sexuality is a spectrum.” I shrug. “You don't have to identify with any one experience or put a label on it if you aren't comfortable doing so. You can try things out and…” I trail off, my stomach twisting with unease at the insinuation of Elijah's body touching anyone else. The knot pulls tighter as I recognise the emotion as—jealousy?
That can't be right.
I've never, not once, cared about the sexual habits of anyone else in my life.
Until now.
Before I can think too deeply, I clap my hands on my thighs, cutting through the strangeness swirling between us. “Ready to go, princess?” I ask with a cheeky grin.
He pushes himself up, flushed skin glistening with a light sheen of sweat in the sunshine, and my tongue feels too big formy mouth. I force it to stay put, refusing to allow it to loll to the side like a bloody dog as Elijah reaches out to pull me to my feet.
His grip sends a tendril of awareness through me, and I push it to the back of my mind, unwilling to ruin a perfect day with my imagination.
I refuse to lose the only flatmate I've ever tolerated, someone who's become a friend and, if I'm willing to admit it to myself, maybe a bitmore.Certainly not because my libido has decided to make a comeback in celebration of my final round of chemo.
As if none of our conversation had happened, we head back to our flat just in time for our nightly call with his sisters.
CHAPTER
FORTY-FIVE
“It’s your last bloody day!”I shout at Adhira, my cheeks aching with the smile I’ve had plastered on my face all morning.
