Page 47 of Peep

“Well, I work here, so yes,” he teases

“No, I mean, are you going to be in my bed?”

Anders taps his chin, teasing me. I roll my eyes and wander into the bathroom.

The past few days, I’ve taken night shifts that finish roughly around the same time as Anders. So, each morning, I’ve crawled into bed with him; my god, it’s been good. Slipping into bed against his warm, freshly showered body, curled up into a tiny ball because that’s how he likes to sleep, has been more satisfying than I could’ve imagined. I want to come home to him every day.

“I’ll be here,” he eventually shouts through to the bathroom, where I’m now brushing my teeth.

“Maybe you should bring over a few changes of clothes,” I mumble through a mouthful of foam.

“What?” he calls.

Shit, did I just offer him a drawer already? Maybe I need to calm my tits. I always figured Anders would be a slow burn, so I don’t want to scare him off any more than I already have.

“What did you say?” He leans against the bathroom door, button nose all scrunched up. He sees himself in the mirror and starts frantically tidying his unruly hair. Damn, he has no idea how cute he looks.

“Oh, nothing. I just said you can wash your clothes here if you need to.”

He ‘hmm’s’, pursing his lips and squinting his eyes at me in the mirror.

I shrug at him, giving him an innocent smile. I’ll have him living here, eventually. All in good time; just a few more loose ends to tie up first.

“Ok, thanks.” He pecks me on the cheek and leaves me to finish getting ready.

I hear him pottering around my apartment, washing dishes and tidying up. It settles something in me. Having him in my space feels right. Cause lord knows he’s already taken up every square inch of space left in my heart.

“You alright, Leo? Looking a little flustered there, mate.”

Leo flaps around the reception desk, probably looking for his key card, which I conveniently took and put back under a pile of papers.

“Can’t find my bloody keycardagain. Have you seen it?”

I almost feel bad—almost.

“I’m sure it’s around here somewhere, I’ll help you look.” I pretend to search for it under the desk. “Not here. Have you checked if it’s under anything? Reception’s a mess today.”

He scans the long desk and then starts lifting pieces of stray paper. That’s it—he’s getting warmer, hotter, sizzling.

“Bingo!” he cheers, tension melting from his shoulders. “I swear I’d lose my head if it weren’t screwed on.”

I scoff a laugh. “Probably.”

Someone clears their throat behind me, so I swing around to find two police officers. My hackles rise. Even though I work here and have a badge to prove it, I’ve always felt uncomfortable around police officers.

“Evening Gentlemen, we’re here to talk to Mr Shaw. He’d like to report an incident.”

My ears perk up at the name; where have I heard it before?

“Oh, yes, of course.” Leo steps from behind reception and introduces himself.

The officers sneer at him as he rambles, asking them how they are and if they’ve been busy this week, then talking about the weather. Bless his heart.

I pretend to look busy, scanning over a chart, but keep my ears sharp on the conversation, eager to know why the police are sniffing around.

“As thrilling as this conversation is, can you take us to Mr Shaw now?” one of the officers interrupts, tone flat.

“Yes, of course, sorry.”

---