Page 90 of Red Flag
“I said I’d go on a date with Frankwhen he wins next. I didn’t say hewouldwin.”
“What if he never wins again?” he said into my hair.
I could already feel him rising to the challenge.
With a salty finger, I gestured between us. “I thought this was friends with benefits.”
“No, I…” He looked at a complete loss. There was no hint of anger, just… helplessness. “Am I mad? There’s more here. When you said you wouldn’t come over the other week because you were on your period, I felt like absolute shit. That you thought I only wanted you to come over to have sex. And I have absolutely no issue having sex while you’re on your period,” he rambled. “But I didn’t know if you had cramps or just didn’t want to see me or—” He took in a deep breath and turned to me. “I was a phone call away from sending chocolates and flowers to your room. Like a boyfriend. I want to be able to buy you flowers. I want to see what this is,Livie.”
My voice was hoarse as I covered his hand with mine. “I want to do that too.”
He released a heavy breath and kissed me. A sweet kiss, one less charged with sexual energy than what we were used to.
“So things with Clara can end too,” he said. “Because I know you weren’t enjoying that either.”
“Maybe so, but not so suddenly,” I said. “You were interviewed about your relationshiptoday.”
He groaned and, arms around my waist, pulled me closer to him on the step.
“Just another month,” I said. “Maybe a little longer.”
He nodded, his head on my shoulder. “So we’re good?”
“We’re good,” I said and hated the emphasis I’d put on that word the second I’d done it.
His arm stiffened around me. “Areyougood?”
“Not really,” I admitted. “I got my contract. Handed in my notice at my flat. Now I’ve got to sell my stuff — all of my dad’s things — and it’s making me feel sick. Sick that I might now lose my job.”
“I’m not letting them let you go,” he said firmly, his hand on my knee. “You’re too good at your job. I’ve never had so many nice comments on my posts. That’s down to you, not anything else. You’re not going anywhere.”
“I am, though,” I whispered, looking at where he touched me. “I’m moving out of my flat. I’m not even going to have a home. Everything I have of my dad’s…”
“Livie,” he said, voice full of worry. “We can find somewhere for his stuff to go. Can’t he take it—”
“He’s dead.”
His hand froze. “Oh,Livie,” he said and wrapped an arm around my shoulder, stroking my exposed skin. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t realise—”
“You wouldn’t. OnlySalihaknows.” I was good at bottling everything up. A key talent. Power through.
He pressed a kiss into my hair.
“He had Parkinson’s,” I told him. “A year ago. It was a long, long end. I was such a mess. I think sometimes I still am.”
“It takes a long time,” he comforted. “And some days are messier than others,Livie. We’ll find somewhere to keep his things.”
I let myself relax into his side, uncaring for how pissed off I was, just needing the comfort that was him.
I sat up and when he stopped the strokes, I covered his hand, making him continue the movement. He smiled with a short, tiredlaugh.
A minute later, a hand on each of my knees, he reached over to kiss me.
At first, I didn’t reciprocate. I let him press his lips to mine. I lasted two seconds before parting my lips under his and inviting him in.
Tipsy, the kiss aroused me far faster than normal. I pulled him over me as I leaned back on more of the steps. He covered me, his hands roaming over my dress as he deepened the kiss, getting that perfect angle.
Fuck, I needed him. Right here. In the stairwell of a club.
