Page 21 of Still Falling for You

I don’t know what possesses me, but I abandon all my stuff by the sign-in table and before I think it through, grab him by the tie. ‘I remember reading that if you pour cold water through the back of the stain, it should remove it.’

He’s so stunned that he lets himself be dragged to the disabled toilet right behind the reception.

As soon as we’re inside, the automatic light floods Alex’s startled face in cool white, making his freckles stand out. I forgot how small the toilet was and now standing here with somebody who looks like they hit the gym at least twice before breakfast makes the confined space crowded. We have no choice but to stand so close there’s barely any space between us. The whole space smells of cheap coffee, the clean smell of laundry detergent and the now familiar woody fragrance of Alex’s aftershave.

I think my mind must be working on autopilot because my hands immediately start loosening the tie around his neck and pulling it over his head. For a few painful moments, our faces are a few centimetres from each other.

‘The faster we get it under running water, the more of a chance it won’t stain,’ I reason.

As soon as the tie is off, I abandon it in the sink under the running tap. I spin around, ready to start unbuttoning his shirt, but he pushes my hands away and shakes his head vehemently. His skin is hot to the touch and my fingertips feel singed.

‘I’m capable of taking off my own shirt,’ he snaps.

‘I never said you weren’t,’ I retort before I can stop myself.

‘I can’t believe I’ve let you drag me here,’ he mutters to himself, and I have to agree with him on that one.

He makes quick work of his shirt and then he’s naked to the waist in a space smaller than a room in a capsule hotel in Tokyo. My tongue swells to the size of a common garden slug, and my pulse skyrockets because under the shirt Alex is solid muscle, a fascinating combination of golden freckles and pale skin. His shoulders are wide despite his slim frame. When I spot his pink nipples puckering in the cold, I can’t take any more.

His eyes train on the wall. Surely, he’s not embarrassed. The Alex I knew was a little on the self-aware side, but this twenty-seven-year-old man is a solid lump of muscle and an assistant head, and as such, he should strut around topless while giving people orders all the time. I shut off my distracting and unhelpful thoughts at once.

Busying myself, I run the inside-out shirt under the tap. The sleeves of my cardigan get soaked so I dispose of it on the radiator. I notice Alex eyeing my black dress, his gaze trailing down to the bow that embellishes the lower back. His nostrils flare for a moment in an emotion I can’t decipher.

I redirect my attention fully to the sink. When the stain starts disappearing, Iyippeein victory and immediately regret the sound. Momentary relief fills Alex’s face before it blanches.

Bollocks, I curse inwardly. I hastily seize the tap to turn the water off, but the damage is done.

‘Your shirt…’ I can’t find the words, but he finishes in mystead.

‘…is pink. Why is my shirt pink?’ His voice climbs an octave higher.

I rummage through the pockets of the garment and find the culprit. A pink mini highlighter.

‘You can’t say I haven’t tried.’ Trying not to think about how ridiculous this situation is, I force solemnity into my statement.

There’s a tense moment in which neither of us speaks. Then Alex doubles over and starts laughing. His reaction sets me off and soon big tears run down my cheeks. I end up getting a stitch in my side and have to squeeze it.

‘I guess I’ll have to ask Jane whether we have any more PE kits in the lost and found box,’ he announces in a serious tone when he manages to compose himself, but amusement lingers on his face. What an insolent bastard to be making fun of my first-day outfit.

I flush with self-consciousness but feel amused despite myself because I can’t not see the humour in this. I should hate him, but my feelings are jumbled, my chest a pressure cooker full of conflicting emotions.

‘If I were you, I’d ask for a Tudor House T-shirt. It would bring out the green in your eyes, and it will go really well with your tie-dye tie.’ I pick up his soaking, brown-stained tie.

He’s positively smirking.

He lifts his hand, but I never know what he intended to do because he halts mid-move. His voice dips. ‘You’ve always been so clumsy. I can see that hasn’t changed.’

I go still, feeling rattled by his words. The spark I felt a minute ago is gone, replaced by self-loathing and resentment that thump me right in the diaphragm, leaving me winded.

His face shuts down as soon as he realises what he’s said. The atmosphere between us turns frigid. I start collecting my things, and I’m about to go when I catch voices outside thereception. Everything tenses inside me once more; this is bad.

‘Ew. Mind the shit on the floor,’ John says to somebody on the other side of the door.

Alex puts his index finger over my lips. Immediately, they start to tingle, and I swallow hard at the sudden intimacy. Seeing my reaction, he takes a hasty step back, and his gaze drops to the floor like I’m a repugnant toad and he’s in need of washing the finger before it grows warts. I can’t stop myself from clenching my fists in response.

Unaware of my inner monologue, he locks the door behind him with a silent click and waits. How come he’s not panicking?

‘There’s someone’s laptop here.’ Danielle, the worst person possible to witness my downfall, is present and accounted for. Great. ‘And somebody dropped their lunch on the carpet. Yikes.’

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