Page 132 of The Dating Ban
I let out a laugh, already picturing some grand, overly decorated house with an eccentric,pearls-and-cashmere-clad woman barking orders at her formally named sons. “I have to meet her one day.”
Theo arches a brow. “Are you mad?”
I grin. “A little.”
He chuckles, taking a sip of his drink, but before the moment can stretch, something clicks in my brain, and I sit up straighter, suddenly very excited.
“Wait, wait, wait.” I point at him, eyes wide. “You grew up on Guernsey?”
He nods, amused by my sudden enthusiasm. “Yes…?”
I gasp. “Like Henry Cavill?!”
Theo freezes for half a second, then groans, rolling his eyes so hard I’m surprised they don’t fall out of his head. “Oh my God.”
I lean in, practically bouncing. “Do you know him?”
He lets his head fall back against the sofa. “Right. That’s it. Date’s over. Get out... I mean, I’ll leave.” He tries to get up, but I burst out laughing, and I stop him placing a hand on his arm.
“Come on! You both lived on a tiny island—you must have crossed paths at some point!”
Theo narrows his eyes at me, lips twitching. “First of all, no, I do not know everyone that lives on Guernsey. It is small but not that small. Second of all, he’s from Jersey, not Guernsey.”
I wave a hand dismissively. “Close enough.”
“It is not close enough!” He looks deeply offended, and it just makes me laugh harder.
“I mean, it’s all the Channel Islands, right?”
Theo groans again. “Okay, this is the highest level of insulting.”
I clutch my stomach, absolutely delighted. “But imagine if you did! You and Superman! Just two lads growing up together on a little island, sharing your deepest dreams—”
Theo levels me with a dry look. “Yes, Ivy. That’s exactly what happened. In fact, Henry and I used to have tea every Thursday. We’d sit on the cliffs and discuss our futures. He wanted to be a movie star, and I wanted to learn yoga.”
I cackle, tipping my head back against the sofa.
He shakes his head in mock despair. “Unbelievable. Unbelievable.”
But even as he’s playing it off, there’s a flicker of something else in his expression. A tiny, good-humoured flicker of jealousy.
I smirk, leaning in closer, dropping my voice into something conspiratorial. “Admit it. You’re just bitter that I brought up Henry Cavill.”
Theo scoffs. “Oh, absolutely. Gutted. Devastated, even.”
“You are!” I tease. “You wanted me to say ‘Wow, Theo, you’re the most handsome Channel Islander I’ve ever met!’”
He leans in, close enough that I can feel the warmth of his breath. “Iamthe most handsome Channel Islander you’ve ever met.”
My smile falters slightly. Because suddenly, we’re not joking anymore.
I swallow, my throat suddenly dry. I exhale, forcing a casual tone. “Fine. You win. You’re officially the hottest person to come out of the Channel Islands.”
Theo grins. “I should hope so.”
But my heart is still hammering. Because we’re sitting here, on this sofa, joking, laughing, flirting—and underneath it all, the tension is still there.
Simmering. Waiting.
