Ash rolls onto his side, propping his head on his hand as he smiles at me. I mirror his body language. His eyelashes are wet with tears, his nose is pinker than ever and his hairis back to being a hot mess. I must look a state and I don’t care.
‘I love your laugh, so much,’ he whispers. My insides light up. ‘Ireallylove it,’ he says, and it’s adorable, the way he’s looking at me. ‘The way you do that little giggle or snigger – I don’t know what to call it – that little noise you make, right at the end of a laugh … It’s like a … a … asniggle,’ he decides.
I crease up with silent laughter before asking, ‘Asniggle?’
‘Yeah, a sniggle.’
We’re both still laughing at each other, only a little, but his eyes are full of an affection that I can’t believe I’ve earned in only twenty-four hours. The way he’s looking at me … Helikesme.
And I like him. So, so, so, so much.
I scan the shape of his face, the sharp line of his jaw that I have a sudden urge to trace with my fingertip. He still looks clean-shaven. I wonder when his stubble will grow back and how many days he’ll leave it before he has another shave. I won’t be around to see.
It’s only when his eyes meet mine that I realise they were fixed on my lips a second ago. I am suddenly acutely aware of every millimetre of space he’s taking up.
I’d advise against getting intimate with anyone who you’re not in a serious relationship with. Trust takes time to build.
I startle as the all-too-recent words of my counsellor come back to me.
‘Right, then,’ I say abruptly, sitting up. ‘I’d better get to bed. What time do you want me to wake you?’
Ash blinks slowly at me as I look over my shoulder at him. I have to press my lips together to keep from smiling at how sleepy he looks right now.
‘Er, seven forty-five?’ he says uncertainly, passing me his key card.
‘You only need fifteen minutes?’ I ask with surprise.
He lifts a shoulder.
‘Okay, seven forty-five it is.’ I shuffle down to the end of his bed and turn around to climb down the ladder.
My gaze travels back along the length of his long, tanned legs, past his broad chest to his face. His head is propped up on one hand, his carelessly dishevelled hair falling into his beautiful eyes as he watches me leave.
I force myself down the last remaining rungs before I do something I might regret.
CHAPTER SIX
We’re on a canary-yellow train heading for Sintra and I should be excited, but my chest feels heavy. I don’t want to see my parents this evening, and I don’t want to leave Ash. We only have a few more hours together before we’ll need to say goodbye. I feel miserable at the thought. I’ve felt such a lightness in his presence. Laughter is never far from his lips, or mine.
He’s subdued too, as he stares out the window, and I wonder what he’s thinking. I don’t have the energy to strike up a conversation, but an idea comes to me and I get out my phone and headphones. He jolts out of his daze as I nudge his knee.
‘What sort of music do you like?’ I ask.
‘Indie, rock, alternative,’ he replies with a lazy shrug.
‘What was the last album you listened to?’
‘Er …’ He rakes his hand through his hair as he thinks. ‘The Rideby Catfish and the Bottlemen, I reckon.’
‘Oh, that’s their new one, right? I like them. Aren’t they from North Wales too?’
‘Yeah, Llandudno.’
How I love his Welsh accent.
‘I remember you saying that you missed music.’ I pass him one of my earphones.
He slides me a sideways smile as he docks it in his ear.
