Page 52 of Fundamentals in Flirting

“What?”

“Because of what he did … how he blamed you? It wasn’t your fault.”

I looked up at the ceiling, the faint shapes of the living room furniture just visible in the gloom. The oppressive darkness sat heavily on my chest. “I’m reluctant to believe that charismatic, flirtatious men have the ability to remain faithful so they’re best kept at arm’s length.”

“I see.” Teddy sighed. “And you’ve put me in that category?”

“Firmly.”

There were a few moments where we didn’t speak, while I tried to squash the shallow tremble of unease that bubbled in my stomach, mesmerised by the loud beating of my heart in my ears as I waited for his response.

“You’re wrong, you know,” Teddy said eventually.

“About all flirty men being promiscuous?”

“About me.” His tone had softened, and there was a quiet, sad edge to his voice.

I didn’t know what to say, so I stayed silent, hoping we could move along from this.

“Goodnight, Hannah.”

“Goodnight, Teddy.”

* * *

“Morning, lovebirds!”

Agnes’s voice cut through my sleep, waking me to groggy consciousness. The dream of frolicking in a Valencian orange grove disappeared from my mind’s eye and I became acutely aware of a heavy weight across my thighs.

Cracking open my eyelids, I found myself tucked firmly against a bare and expansive muscled chest, a smattering of hairs tickling my nose. Long arms were wrapped around me and one leg was thrown over my hips.

Shit.

I made to wriggle away, but Teddy held me tighter, pulling me to him and mumbling incoherently into my hair.

“Teddy, wake up,” I hissed, pushing on his torso, but to no avail.

His bear hug still gripped me securely, his breath fluttered strands of my hair over my face. And, while there were certain parts of my anatomy that were doing a celebratory jig at this predicament (especially when considering theveryfirm appendage pressed against my stomach), my mind was screaming extrication protocols left, right, and centre in a desperate bid to save me from further intense mortification. Or from doing something I would most definitely regret. Like nuzzling in closer, or gently biting the skin over his collar bone.

There was only one thing for it. Worming a little space between us and fighting off the tingly dead-arm feeling that was making my brain think my hand was now huge, I reached up, poking tickling fingers along his ribcage and up the underside of his arm, gently stroking and edging ever closer to his armpit, until he jerked away with a strangled, sleepy cry.

“Oh my God, Hannah! Tickling is not a nice way to wake someone up!” he moaned, rolling away from me and smacking his head against the leg of the armchair. “Oww! Shit!”

Having achieved my freedom, I scooched back to my side of the communal floor-bed that we had shared, letting out a relieved breath and hastily pulling my unruly hair into a bun. I seriously don’t know what happens when I’m asleep because my hair ends up so big and crazy, as if it’s attended a hirsute rock and roll party all on its own. And it was particularly wild this morning.

Teddy glanced over, rubbing at his temple with long fingers. “Sleep well?”

I nodded. I really had. I’d not woken once in the night, despite my nocturnal wandering and illicit snuggling. “You?”

“Yep. Really well. Even though you talk in your sleep and hog all the covers.”

“I do not talk in my sleep.”

“Oh Teddy, please let me press myself against your manly body!” he teased, laughing as I threw a pillow at his smug, delighted face. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist cuddling me at some point.”

“Tea?” Agnes called from the kitchen, stopping me from leaping over and smothering him with another pillow.

Teddy yawned and stretched, the muscles of his shoulders and arms flexing in a way that made my mouth actually water, as if I were contemplating a fillet steak in Béarnaise sauce, ready to be eaten. A smouldering gaze met mine – he knew exactly what he was doing. Yet again, my resolve to keep my distance shrivelled a tiny bit more. I was a monumental perv and needed to avert my eyes.

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