Page 12 of Deja Brew

I gasp when his tongue darts along my bottom lip, and I chase it. If this is happening and I’m not dreaming, I’m not wasting the opportunity. My hands thrust into his thick hair and tug at the strands, while his hand moves to my thigh, heat rushes through me.

I moan and break the kiss to breathe before trailing open-mouthed kisses down his neck. When I find the opening of his shirt, he guides me back to his lips and kisses me deeply, stubble scratching my face. Throwing my leg across his lap, I straddle him and we both moan at the contact as I grind down. His hands land on my hips, the warmth branding me, but he stops, breaks the kiss, and presses our foreheads together.

“Slow,” he pants. “We need to slow down.”

I nod, incapable of words, and grin breathlessly at him. His hands squeeze my hips, and he tugs me into a hug, nuzzling his face into my shoulder.

Someone knocks at the door, and the noise causes me to jump.

“It’s the food.”

“Already?” Didn’t we just order? Time flies when you’re making out with your crush.

“I’ll be back in a second.” He taps me gently, and I shift off him.

My eyes follow him to the door and I ask, “Where’s the bathroom?” I need time to calm down before eating food like a civilised person instead of jumping him as soon as he gets the food.

“Down the hall on the left.”

I head down the hall and open the first door I see, too busy remembering his lips on mine to realise it’s the wrong door.

“Not that one?—”

I don’t hear the rest of his response. Instead, I’m staring at the room I’ve entered. It’s dim despite the large windows with ominous grey clouds barely holding back rain, but it’s light enough to see the art supplies scattered everywhere, with the smell of turpentine permeating the air. Strong and woody. My eyes flick across the walls, and my heart pounds in my ears. My mouth’s dry, and I find it difficult to swallow.

“Is there a reason…” I trail off and suck in a breath. “Is there a reason—” I try again, but I can’t get the words out.

There are pictures of me on the walls.

Every wall is covered inme.

Drawings in pencil, canvases on easels, what looks like watercolours on the desk. The room’s littered with paper and canvases of…me. Mostly my face in different lighting, different hairstyles I’ve done. I turn slowly to face the doorway and see Leo standing in front of the room, fist tight on the takeaway bag. My hands feel numb. He doesn’t say anything. Just stands in the doorway. Watching me.

My eyes catch on a drawing where the setting’s dark, but I’ve walked under a streetlight so you can see what I’m wearing. I’m wearing a hoodie. I don’t own many because they make me feel like I’m choking, but I would remember that one anywhere.

It’s his.

And I don’t know how he knows I wore it—maybe he hoped I would? But I remember the feeling of being followed, of someone making me feel safe getting to work even though I know it’s wrong to think that.

My eyes fly to his, and when we lock eyes, he sees something in mine that causes him to shut his. “Have you been following me, Leo?”

“Lily, I—” He cuts himself off and rubs a hand over his chest.

“It was you. But why?” It doesn’t make any sense. I rip paper off the wall. This piece is my silhouette done in coloured pencils with Cas dancing around my feet. He knows I have a cat, but I never told him what Cas looks like. “Why! How do you know what my cat looks like?”

He flinches and backs into the hallway so he isn’t caging me in the room. “Because I…”

“Are you going to finish your sentence?” My hand crinkles the paper, and his brow furrows in what looks like pain when he notices it.

He breathes deeply. “I wanted to make sure you got to work.”

I draw up short and blink at him. “You followed me to work each day to make sure I got there?”

He nods and crosses his arms, the takeaway food bumping his chest. “You said you walk to work in the dark, and I didn’t like the idea of you doing it alone. All I did was make sure you got there safely. I always left once Gemma arrived.” He clears his throat. “And occasionally I’d drive by your flat to make sure you arrived home okay.”

“What?” I say sharply. He knows where I live? And had been checking on me? I’d only had the feeling of someone watching me at home twice, but he makes it sound as if he’s done it multiple times.

“I—Lily, it’s not safe to walk in the dark.”

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