Page 22 of Don't Fall in Love (and how to break the rules)

“Well, you go first,” said Nisha, gently placing a hand on the arm of Chrissie’s muddy raincoat. Chrissie wondered briefly whether her fingers might leave some kind of imprint.

Chapter Seventeen

Chrissie emerged from the shower into her bedroom feeling much more human. She wasn’t sure what had just happened, or why, but she was glad she hadn’t been alone when Lucian appeared. She had thought – hoped – that she would never see him again. She didn’t understand how he could still continue to peddle his lies and manipulations anymore. But there he’d been, in broad daylight, on the doorstep of her home. She shuddered. Her judgement had been so bad when it came to him and his followers. She silently berated herself in just the way her therapist had advised her not to, and then pulled the thought back, reminding herself she should show the same kindness to herself that she liked to show to others. Easier said than done. What scared her was the pull towards Lucian she had felt. All this time, all the work she had done. Her rules. But still, he had a hold over her that terrified her.

Once she had pulled on some jogging bottoms and a hoody, she went into the kitchen, where she did a double take. Nisha had stripped down to some boy shorts and a vest top, underneath which her sports bra could be clearly seen through the rain-soaked material. For a moment, Nisha didn’t notice her.She was pouring out two steaming cups of tea with her back to Chrissie. Chrissie could feel her cheeks flush and her fingers tingle, but it was nothing to do with the shower.

“Um,” said Chrissie, unable to form any words that made sense.

“I assumed you wanted something hot,” said Nisha, passing a mug over to Chrissie, whose brain was now fizzing.

“Mhm,” said Chrissie, taking the comment at face value, making a supreme effort not to read anything further into it, and to keep her eyes on her tea-maker’s face.

“You still drink herbals, right?”

Safer territory for Chrissie. “Yes,” she said.

Nisha paused and looked into Chrissie’s face, her eyes soft. “You ok?”

“It’s all been a lot today,” said Chrissie, pleased she was able to form a sentence, but still unable to stop her skin from tingling. Even her knees felt weird. Was she having some kind of medical crisis?

Nisha frowned. “That man?” she asked.

Chrissie nodded, although there was a lot more going on for her than that. “The shower’s free,” she said, not sure what else to do or say.

Nisha winked. “So I see,” she replied. She vanished out of the kitchen.

Chrissie leaned against the kitchen surface and gave a long sigh. “Wowsers,” she said out loud. “I did that,” she added, before running her own tongue along her top lip, the memory of Nisha’s mouth on hers.

“You did what?” came Nisha’s voice, her head poking round the door.

Chrissie abruptly stood up straight. “Ah, um, played football.”

“That you did,” said Nisha. “Does it matter what towel I use?”

“Oh, yeah, use one of the clean ones on the top shelf by the sink,” Chrissie told her. Nisha gave her a thumbs up before disappearing back into the bathroom.

Today had not been a good day for her adrenaline levels. Or her emotions, for that matter. She desperately needed Nisha to go. But she also desperately wanted to kiss her again. To do more than kiss her. To undress her, to be close to her, to touch her.

But somewhere inside, Chrissie knew she needed to pay attention to two of her rules. Firstly, she had to examine this, question it, find out what it was about, why it was happening. What was Nisha’s agenda? What did she want? Why did she want it? What did Chrissie want? And why?

And of course, at the heart of it all, she knew that she couldn’t allow herself to fall in love.

But a kiss wasn’t love, right?

It wasn’t not love though, either.

And it had happened immediately after seeing Lucian again for the first time in over a year. The man that had controlled her, had scared her, and had changed her. She couldn’t let a reaction to seeing him shape the rest of her life – or even the rest of the week. That would be a dangerous path.

She needed her journal, she needed her pens. She really needed time to herself, in spite of her body betraying her, desperate for another kiss, desperate to feel Nisha’s hands on her again.

Chrissie’s mind drifted to the woman she could hear in the shower, and she found it hard not to imagine the rivulets of water flowing down her skin, the steam enveloping her shape, the soap sliding across her features. She screwed up her eyes and shook her head.

No. She couldn’t do this.

Chapter Eighteen

“You seemed a bit distracted today,” said Rae, as they and Chrissie packed away the yoga mats.

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