Page 91 of Short Stack 3

He climbs out of bed and pads over, drawing me back against him and resting his chin on my shoulder. “Wow.”

We’re looking out onto the canal, and the water sparkles, reflecting the light from the ornate lampposts that line the canal. A small bridge festooned with fairy lights arches over the water, and strings of beautiful snowflake decorations have been draped along the street. They’re waving in the breeze, making everything twinkle.

“Sopretty,” I breathe again. I turn in his arms, feeling all his hot skin against mine, and clasp my hands around his neck. “Thank you,” I say, smiling up at him. “You’re the best boyfriend ever.”

He seems to pause. Even his breathing stops, and I look at him in concern. “Tom?”

He jerks as if I just applied electrodes. “Yes?”

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah, fine. Why?”

“You’re just being a bit weird.”

“I don’t know how you can use that label on me after we hosted your friend from college last month.”

I grimace. “I am sorry about that. I’m sure eating soap is a delicacy for some people.”

“Only if they live in the Dove factory.”

He wanders into the bathroom whistling, and I take a second to admire the sight of his arse. Then I realise he never answered my question.

I shake my head and stoop to pick up our clothes scattered across the floor. We’d barely got two feet into the room before Tom had picked me up and shagged me against the wall. We’d then staggered to the bed for a second round.

I hear the shower start, and he pops his head around the door. “You coming?”

“Yeah.” I grin at him as I put the clothes on the soft chair in the corner of the room. His jeans are heavy when I start to fold them. “What have you got in here?” I laugh. “Did you forget to leave your work phone behind again?” I let out a startled gasp as he leaps across the floor in one bound and snatches them from my hands. “What thefuck, Tom?”

“Sorry,” he says, backing away from me as if I were radioactive.

I stare at him. “What is the matter with you? Have you lost your mind?”

“That happened a long time ago.”

“Well, there’s no need to snatch.”

“Sorry,” he says again.

“I was just going to unpack and pop them in the wardrobe with the other clothes.”

“No need,” he says quickly. He takes another step back, catching his foot in the trailing sheets and falling over with a grunt of surprise.

“What the fuck?” I hurry over and peer down at him. He’s lying on the floor, still clutching those bloody jeans. “Are you okay?” I ask anxiously. “Did you hurt yourself?”

“I’m fine.Absolutelyfine. Couldn’t be better.” I blink as he sits up and shoves the jeans behind him. “I’ll wear them tonight.”

“Fine. I wasn’t going to chop them up and make you eat them.”

“Haha.” It’s way too loud.

I stare at him. “Are you quite sure you’re okay, lovey? You’ve been so busy lately. Are you tired?”

His company is very busy at the moment, and he’s had to work away a lot over the last few months. He’s also taken on more overtime for some secret project he won’t tell me about.

He gets to his feet and pats my cheek affectionately. “I’m fine, babe. Thank you, though.”

I open my mouth to argue, but he steps past me, and I notice he’s still clutching those bloody jeans.

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