Page 35 of Outlier
“Is it ever quiet up there?” I asked.
“It was quiet when you were kissing me,” she whispered.
A low, almost-growl came from the back of my throat, the urge to silence her thoughts again surging through me, but she hadn’t eaten in hours, and yesterday had been tough, so I took a step back and put her tea in front of her.
As I moved back to the stove, she took a cautious sip of her tea and then shot me a surprised look.
“How did you know how I take my tea?” she asked, then belatedly looked down at the plate in front of her. “And how did you know what I liked for breakfast?”
Her toast was sliced into triangles, and there were two rashers of bacon on top of them.
Lottie had said that eggs would be “too high risk”. Apparently, Vicky was pretty extreme about her eggs. The actual colour chart Lottie texted over for Vicky’s tea was quite something, so I decided not to attempt eggs.
“Lottie,” I told her.
“Lottie? But Lottie’s not here.”
“I spoke to Lottie.”
“What? Why would you?—?”
“I had about a hundred missed calls from Ollie and Lottie, and I wanted to know what you would eat. You were asleep, so I rang Lottie back.”
She blinked down at her plate and then back up at me with a stunned expression.
“It’s not a big deal, love,” I told her. “I knew you’d lost a bit of weight, and I wanted to give you something you could eat. Okay?”
“Not a big deal,” she muttered, shaking her head. “That is an inaccurate statement. It is averybig deal to me.”
I smiled at her, but my chest felt tight at the realisation that someone making her some food that she would like and eat would feel like a big deal to her. But instead of demanding a list of all those other thoughtless fuckers, I picked up my plate and sat down on the handmade wooden stool next to her.
“So, I was thinking,” Vicky said, and I braced.
Over the course of the few conversations we’d had, I realised that literally anything could fly out of her mouth.
“I did want a romantic relationship with you in the conventional sense.”
I almost choked on my tea but managed to swallow the rest down without incident.
“Youdidwant that?” I asked after I’d recovered. “You mean, past tense?”
“Yes. Well, now, I realise that it’s unlikely you would be amenable to a romantic type of situation with me.”
My eyes went wide. “What the fuck about the last twelve hours makes you think that?”
She shrugged and broke eye contact to concentrate on her food. “Because you think I’mempty inside, devoid ofpersonality,and you wouldn’t touch me with abarge pole.”
I closed my eyes as I dropped my fork to rub my temples.
Bloody hell, I was such a prick.
“Vicky, I?—”
“You don’t have to explain,” she said, cutting me off in that matter-of-fact tone that she seemed to adopt when she wanted to mask her emotions, but I could just about detect the small thread of hurt through her words. “But last night andthis morning would suggest that you have now got over your aversion to touching me. So maybe you’re not open to a romantic relationship, but you might be interested in continuing the touching element?”
“Touching element?” I asked, taking a very ill-advised sip of my tea.
“Touching, as in sexual intercourse.”
