Page 40 of An Unexpected Kind of Love

“Filming’s going to be tough tomorrow. I guess today,” I say gamely. “You think you’ll be able to get some sleep?”

“Maybe. Sometimes it’s better just to keep going. It’s totally worth the missed sleep, though. This night out with you.”

He gazes intently at me and I meet his gaze just as intently. Then, he brushes his lips against mine. And we melt into each other for a stolen moment beneath the awakening city. We’re all pink-gold sunrise too. And right now, here, Blake is all mine, in a private moment just for us.

Out here, in this early morning London, everything’s ours.

Chapter Ten

When I collapse—alone—onto the creak of my sofa bed, I’m light-headed with exhaustion. And something like joy, if I’m completely honest. The room reels. Morning sunlight spills into the room from the gap between the curtains where they’re not fully drawn.

As I drift off, my last vision is that of Blake, following a furtive peek on Instagram.

Social media isn’t entirely terrible, after all. It’s my last coherent thought before passing out.

By the time I open my eyes much later, the room swelters. The angle of sunlight creeping up the wall tells me it’s far later than I usually wake. With the filming chaos downstairs rumbling through the hardwood due to shoddy soundproofing between floors, I have the luxury of a rare lie-in.

Downstairs, it could be a break in the filming, given the noise. Which means I’ll have a chance at the kettle to temper the dull thump in my head. Too much fun, not enough water.

But God, it was worth it. Something dangerous like euphoria still lingers, the secret thrill when I look at the picture we took together at dawn. Imagine relaxing with Blake, a day spent lazy in bed.

Lying sprawled on the bed, it’s terribly easy to think the whole thing last night was a very vivid dream. I imagine being in Blake’s arms. Dancing. With me, his mouth brushing my cheekbone. Later, we shared teasing kisses along the river.

That had to be some other Aubrey. Some other Blake. And reality borrowed from someone else who isn’t me.

Right now, all I need to think about is tea.

Something tangible. Something real.

…

The day passes in a rare lazy idyll. As the sunbeam shifts through my bedsit, me and my cat chasing the warmth, I spend the day alternately reading and drowsing, with a couple of trips out to the catering tent to bring out food. I haven’t seen Blake amid the filming today.

There’s a fair bit of waffling that occupies the hours.

Should I text? Do we have a texting sort of…well, certainly not relationship. Status?

Even friendship seems far-fetched. Though all evidence points to more than a one-time hookup, if vegan meals and midnight kebabs are any proof. And—the dancing. Plus, there’s the lust that took us in the corner of the club.

I still can’t get over being so close with him, our bodies pressed in the swelter of the dance floor. Or his hands teasing me despite being surrounded by people. And God, how much I liked it.

What kind of text is adequate after all of that? Instead, I skip the lamehow are you todaytext to send a shameless photo of a chickpea and a simple text. Even so, I wrote and deleted three versions of awkward texts. After all, the photo of a chickpea should alone be at least worth a thousand words. Double word score given how wholesome and ethical that is.

I had fun with you last night. xx

Okay. Simple. Too earnest, though. God. Why did I send that?

I’m revealing way too much. Fun leads to liking. Liking leads to my certain downfall. And I can’t fall for him. Too dangerous. And he’s only in London for a short time anyway.

Be practical, Aubrey. This can’t last.

Can it?

Yet, I lose myself to the agonizingly hopeful wait for a response.

To pass the time, I text Gemma from my sprawl on the bed. She reports spinach and strawberry salads in the catering tent, fruit salsas, and more that they’ve just brought out. The shop still stands. She says she only made out once with the security guard. We’ve had a few messages to the shop about our closure, about when we might reopen for business.

If only I knew. It’s terrifying to think of the lost sales, even with the daily rate I’m receiving. What if those customers never come back?

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