Page 34 of The Best Book Boyfriend
“That’s good. There’s coffee in the cafetiere there if you want one.” He nods towards the counter where he’s left a mug out for me, along with milk and a little sugar bowl. I pour a cup and ghost my fingers along the countertop. This feels... normal? Nice? Not as awkward as I thought it would be.
His garden is waking up with the morning sun. I take a seat at the end of the sofa nearest the window and watch the birds while he finishes reading. The first coffee of the day always feels a bit special to me, and I cradle the cup the same way I’ve seen him do when he seems nervous. After a little while, he nudges the outside of my leg with his foot and puts his phone down on the table.
“What do you think?” I say.
“Of?”
“The book.”
“Oh,” he laughs gently, “well these two are awful, but it’s early days.”
“I know, they’re so mean to each other, but you’ll soon see chinks in their armour. Have you got to the fake date yet?” I ask, my thumb sweeping back and forth against the lip of my coffee.
“Not yet.”
“That’s my favourite bit. You have lots to look forward to.”
He lets out a long slow sigh and sits up taller. “So last night was—”
“I have a real vulnerability hangover—” We both speak at once and then break into smiles and then laughter, only setting each other off more when we make eye contact. Thank fuck for laughing, because my chest feels heavy and I appreciate a moment of lightness.
“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks.
“Not particularly. I’m feeling quite embarrassed about the whole thing. I mean, you’re grieving and I’m sworn off men, and not really over getting dumped. I owe you an apology for getting carried away.”
His brow furrows. “I don’t feel that way, but I’m also sorry if I rushed you into something.”
“You didn’t. It’s just—” I don’t even know how to explain myself. “I had a really nice time last night, and I ruined it by getting hysterical. I’m obviously not ready for this sort of thing. I’m hoping we can just forget about it and still be friends?”
I wish I wasn’t saying this. What I actually want is to crawl over there and climb him like a tree. “I hope this won’t make things weird between us. I still want to do the book club if that’s OK?”
“Of course it is. Nothing has to change. Look, it was probably good for us both to have a…” he waves his hands around in the air as he tries to find the right words. “An... interaction with someone else. Rip off the plaster, if you will. Kickstart the engine. Unblock the sink.”
That is quite a revolting image, and my face must give me away. He laughs and holds his head in his hands. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I say these awful things. I’m not good at this.”
“It’s OK, I’m no good either. Hattie and Megan have been pestering me about dating for ages and I’ve been terrified at the thought of having aninteractionwith anyone. So thank you, I guess, for being that person. You’re a good friend.”
“It was my pleasure.” Then we’re laughing at the innuendo again and the wobbly feeling in my stomach feels more like a good one than a bad one.
I am not handling last night well at all. On one hand, my thighs are still twitching every time I think about Luke sitting across from me with his dick in his hand. I need tostopthinking about it because I’ve got work to get on with today, and all I want to do is crawl into my bed and relive it over and over.
On the other hand, I feel sad, and I can’t explain why. I know I’ve done nothing wrong, but my entire being aches. I’m embarrassed that he saw me touching myself, embarrassed that he saw me crying, embarrassed that he had to look after me. And why, oh why, do I feel like I’ve cheated on Adam?
On the third hand... Wait, that’s too many hands. For thirdly?Whatever.I feel awful for Luke. He’s such a kind and genuine man, and I’ve defiled him and his beautiful fresh start home with my filthmongering. The poor guy is a widower, for goodness’ sake.
He said himself how he can’t imagine being with anyone else, and yet there I was practically throwing myself at him with those questions. Why did I have to tell him about the dining table? I hadn’t even had that much to drink, though I guess it was enough to loosen up.
I said I still want to be friends, and he says he wants that too, but honestly, how on earth will I be able to be friends with him now that I’ve seen his penis?And what a penis.Friends do not talk like that, or do those things, and I one million percent want to do it again, and more. It was the hottest thing that’s happened to me in ages. Maybe ever.
Though I love a Book Boyfriend with a filthy way with words, Adam was never into dirty talk, and some of the stuff that came out of my mouth last night surprised me. I’ve been holding these thoughts and fantasies in my head when I’m reading, but it felt good to confess. I felt like someone else entirely. Not the soppy little girlfriend I was when I was a teenager.
Falling for Adam had been so easy. He was the most gorgeous boy in school, and after having a huge crush on him all through year eleven, we shared a messy snog at the Christmas disco. We’d spent the whole of the school holidays texting each other, much to the annoyance of our mums, who found that no amount of chocolate or roast potatoes could drag us from our bedrooms.
When we got back to school in January, it was like a scene from a film; me walking into the playground with Hattie and Megan, Adam standing there with his mates, then walking over and kissing me in front of everyone while the morning bell rang. I still remember how amazing it felt, both the kiss and the boldness of kissingin school. We were inseparable from then on.
My whole life I’ve only ever loved one man. Sure, hundreds of fictional ones on regular rotation, but only ever one real man. My Adam. I never imagined myself with anyone else because I neverwantedto bewith anyone but him. It’s like my brain has been closed off to other men since seventeen, and while I can appreciate them from afar, the idea of being with another man still feels crazy.
Before I waste another second thinking about Adam, I throw myself into Book Club planning and spend Sunday evening designing posters and social media posts while catching up with my favourite podcast.
