Page 37 of Sleep

“Agreed.”

“Age is only a number. And it’s not that big an age gap.”

“A few years.”

“I have friends who are way older. And some much younger.”

“Friends.”

Either I was reading far too much into this or not following him at all.

We weren’t friends. We were traumatised idiots.

“Jonny. Are you after anything other than friendship here? Because if you are, you’re doing a fine job of reeling me in. Your flirting is on point.”

He let his head fall hard against my shoulder. God, I liked that. I also liked that I was getting to know him…slowly. Direct questioning was great but wouldn’t work here. Instead, I laughed. It sounded a little desperate, though I mostly felt calm. Finally, he settled into my awkward embrace.

Maybe not so awkward. It felt okay. Comforting others was one of my better skills, less so comforting myself, but I felt comforted right now, and I had no idea why.

“It’s a horrible feeling when you realise you don’t fit in with everyone’s expectations,” he admitted. I nodded against his shoulder. “I never did. I wasn’t a popular child, didn’t make friends easily. Most of my peers were interested in things I couldn’t get a grasp on. Like girls. I never understood it. As I got older, I started to, in a different way. I…” He coughed and lifted his head, meeting my gaze, his hand now at the back of my neck, lightly stroking my skin.

This was when I would normally put an end to the lack of consent issue, open up a wider and more comfortable zone of personal space, because I was Mabel Donovan, and I had rules for these kinds of things. Rules that Jonny Templar was breaking faster than I could recite them. He was still looking at me, at my mouth, a thumb brushing my cheek.

He must have noticed my sudden weariness because he gasped and let go of me completely, stepping sideways away from me. My empty arms fell to my sides.

“Last time we met, you told me that you were a battle I didn’t have to fight. What did you mean by that?”

“I don’t know,” he whispered, shaking his head. “I don’t meet many people I want to be close to. But from the moment I saw you, I wanted to know you. I wanted you to smile at me the way you did at everyone else and mean it.”

“I do have my charms.”

“Mabel, don’t turn everything into a joke.”

“Then be honest with me.”

Incredible. We’d not even finished with our drinks, and we were on the verge of an argument.

“I’ve had sexual contact with women.”

The effort it must have taken to get those words out in the open was no match to the next sentence, which felt as if he’d had to climb down his own throat and yank it out.

“Also limited experience with men. I…preferred the ones I had with males.”

“Thank you for sharing that with me.”

“In an ideal world…”

“Yes?”

“I would be so much better at this.”

I chuckled, and he seemed to relax again, though he was tugging at his loose tie like a schoolboy desperate to get home and out of his uniform.

“I wish I could just be like everyone else,” he confessed. “Flirt and talk and get exactly what I want. I can get people to accept multimillion-pound deals that will most probably bankrupt them. I can make a pile of dirt seem like the most attractive investment. But I can’t even tell someone that I really like them.”

“Oh, Jonny.” I sighed. “I know you like me. It’s kind of obvious. And before you churn in angst over that little remark, I really like you back. Can’t help it. You’re charming and cute.”

“Cute.” He almost rolled his eyes, and it made me grin.

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