Page 16 of Lovers in Lockdown

Honey materialises after a couple of hours and plops down beside me on the sofa.

‘Hey,’ she yawns.

I resist the urge to stick my finger in her mouth.

‘Sleep well?’

‘Like a baby.’

Her cheeks are still rosy and her hair is sticking out in so many places that she looks as if she’s been electrocuted. Actually, in this light, she looks concerningly like Albert Einstein. It’s not the prettiest picture, but if anyone can pull off looking like a mad scientist, it’s Honey.

‘Did you miss me?’ she asks with a playful smile.

‘Of course,’ I grin and her eyes widen in surprise. ‘I needed you to make me a cup of tea when I couldn’t be bothered to get up.’

She laughs and slaps me gently on the arm. I toss a throw pillow at her face in retaliation, laughing and smiling so widely that my jaw aches, when it occurs to me that I’m flirting with Honey. And the realisation hits me like a throw pillow to the face.

Fuck.

I’m not supposed to be doing this. I’m supposed to be keeping her at arm's length. I’m supposed to be keeping her safely in the friendzone. I’msupposedto be doing anything that isn’t flirting with my best friend’s little sister and imagining what would happen if our play fighting turned to fucking.

I’ve known Reid for ten years, and never in the history of our friendship have I crossed the line. And I’m sure as hell not going to start now.

It makes no difference that Reid doesn’t think me hooking up with Honey is a big deal. It’s a fact of life that you justdon’tmake a move on your best friend’s little sister.

Even if I really did miss her while she was napping. The flat is unnervingly quiet without her tearing around the place like a tornado and diagnosing me with obscure diseases. According to Honey, I’ve suffered from liver disease, osteoporosis and lupus in just this week alone. It should freak me out, but I find her wide knowledge of health conditions impressive, and sometimes even endearing.

I don’t know what’s wrong with me.

My stomach rumbles loudly and I use it as an excuse to move back to my corner of the couch and change the subject. ‘I was thinking about having take-out for dinner.’

‘Sounds good to me. I’ve had a right hankering for hotdogs recently.’

Hell no.

There will be no hotdogs. No sausages. No phallic shaped foods of any kind until I get my cock under control.

‘Um, I don’t fancy hotdogs. How about Thai?’

‘Oh, okay, sure. Thai’s fine too.’

Thai is good. We’ll get noodles. There’s nothing about noodles that is remotely similar to my cock. Except maybe the length.

Wink.

Our food arrives surprisingly quickly for a Saturday night in the centre of London and Honey disappears to the kitchen while I fetch the food from the front door. She returns with a set of cutlery.

‘What’ve you got there, Honey?’

She narrows her eyes at me. ‘You’re a chef. It would speak volumes about your abilities if you weren’t able to identify a fork and a spoon.’

Oh, sassy Honey is out to play tonight.

‘You mean to say that you can’t use chopsticks?’ I throw a hand over my heart and gasp dramatically.

Honey is not impressed.

‘Not all of us have lived in China for the past several years, Noah, and it would be grossly unfair of you to expect complete perfection from me. We all have our vices. I couldn’t possibly be a master of everything.’

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