Page 10 of Unforeseen Love

I walk back past her room, notice her door cracked open, and see her book on her trunk. Reaching for it, I think fuck it and sit down on the perfectly made bed, resting against the headboard… one chapter won’t hurt.

It’s only when the sound of my phone ringing in the distance wakes me, I realise I’d fallen asleep while reading. What the fuck? It’s not my fault her bed is beyond comfy, it’s this memory foam or some posh shit. I dog-ear the last page I remember reading, determined to sneak it when she’s not about, and then I replace the book and quickly try to straighten out her duvet, not sure if I’ve disturbed the cushions she has. Oh well, it's too late now. In search of my phone, I find it was from the delivery company, saying they’re due within the hour. I check the time to see it’s almost three p.m. I have no idea what time I fell asleep, but I’ve lost over two hours of the day.

Before I head back to the office, I pull my washing out and swap it into the tumble dryer, but not before I come across a mixture of sexy lace thongs. Morticia is a dark horse. I chuckle, folding them neatly in half and leaving them smack bang in the middle of the dinner table where she’ll find them. Then I transfer my own, checking the heat setting is on low. I learnt my lesson the last time I didn’t and ended up with boxer briefs that wouldn’t even fit a GI Joe action figure.

ChapterSeven

Sienna

Apart from this morning, I’ve had an otherwise lovely day. Ewan and I went for lunch, and I gave him his gift. But what shocked me was how he had one for me too. I’m not used to it, and I found myself feeling awkward. The only thing that alleviated it was while he looked at his, I was looking at mine.

I’d given him a personalised glasses case. He was constantly losing his glasses, which surprised me, seeing as he can’t read without them. So, when I saw the beautiful chrome case and found out they also did the engraving, it was a given.

But it was what he gave me which had me holding back the lump in my throat—a pen. A Montblanc pen. I tried to tell him it was too much, but he quickly shut me down. It’s beautiful––black with a snake curling around the lid, the tip red and white, clearly a limited edition, and without a doubt cost a small fortune.

I couldn’t help crying, and most men would be uncomfortable, but not Ewan. He stood, walked around, and pulled me into a cuddle. I’m not one for public displays of affection, and apart from my grandfather––who passed away when I was five––I’ve not had a male presence in my life. My mum and nan raised me until they passed away, leaving me an orphan at sixteen.

I’m sure I have family somewhere on my father's side, but I was an accident, and when his family found out, they didn’t want anything to do with my mum or me.

When I entered the flat, for a brief moment, I almost forgot about my new flatmate—almost. His boots in the hallway cause me almost to take another stumble, but I manage to keep myself upright this time.

“Really?” I say, unable to hide my annoyance.

Grabbing his boots, I stuff them into the cupboard where I keep mine. I swear, does he not understand the term health and safety?

Walking into the kitchen, I find him leaning against the counter with a mug to his lips, no doubt hiding his smug smile.

“Shoes and boots go in the cupboard.”

He cocks an eyebrow.

“Good evening to you too.”

Dropping my bag onto the table, my eyes immediately zone in on my neatly folded thongs. I glance back to him, and even if I didn’t feel the heat on my skin like my flesh was on fire, there is no way I could pretend not to be embarrassed.

“I would have put them away, but I didn’t think you’d appreciate me rifling through your drawers.”

My mouth gapes open. And this, coming from the same man who was sneaking around in my room without invitation.

“As if that would stop you,” I say under my breath.

“Coffee?” he asks, ignoring my retort.

I look to his mug, which reads, ‘People are dying to work with me’, and I have to stifle my amusement––even I have to admit that’s a good one.

“Before you start giving me attitude, I did a Costco run and filled up the cupboards,” he says.

Opening the one beside me, I take a look, and sure enough, it’s almost full. To be honest, I can’t remember the last time I did a big shop.

“Oh, and I filled up the fridge and freezer. Probably a good thing with the way everyone is panicking over social media.”

I am momentarily at a loss for words. He almost seems, dare I say, nice.

“However, I didn’t get you anything for the time of the month. I wasn’t sure about your flow.”

And just like that, the illusion he just created is broken.

Snatching up my thongs and bag, I retreat to my room and immediately throw myself face-first onto my bed, letting out a muffled scream. When I push myself up, I sniff. Why the hell does my duvet smell like Theodore bloody Wainwright? See? He’s even infiltrated my mind, making me smell things that aren’t even there.

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