Page 63 of A Copenhagen Snowmance
“Get your coat, Jamie,” Anna announces, walking into the living room. “We’re going for a ride.”
“I can think of a ride we could take and not even leave this room,” he says, catching her wrist from his spot in the sofa.
She looks down into his face and feels the pull in the pit of her belly. It would be so easy to let him tug her down into his lap, for them to continue where they left off this morning. She’s been replaying last night and sees quite clearly that it would be just as easy to become used to it, and fall for it, forhim, and she knows this would be the worst thing to happen.
“Come on, Anna,” he coaxes, his voice husky, “I haven’t seen you for hours.” This is true. She’s been squirrelled away in her room, under the excuse of an “emergency web post” for Katrine. There is something about a husky-slightly-desperate Jamie, which makes breathing a little painful for her. Her resolve, though, is stronger, not least because she’s slightly desperate herself, but to give him her gift.
“Come on,” she mimics back, “coat on.”
“Bossy,” she hears him murmur, sulkily.
“No, just direct. You know the Danes,” she calls from the hallway, pulling on her boots.
He stomps lightly across to follow her, then tries to feel her up, which she points out is pointless as she extracts herself, given all the layers. Jamie’s mouth purses and he leans against the wall, arms crossed.
“You OK?”
“Sure.”
“You aren’t freaking out?”
“Freaking out? Me? No. Of course not.” She does her best to look him right in the eyes, face open and with a smile.
“You’re being weird.”
She pulls an offended face. “No, I’m not. I’ve been working on something and now I want to show you.” Why can’t he just follow along as instructed?
“OK, not weird. But youarebeing distant,” he corrects.
“Because I said no to going at it on the sofa?” she asks. Now Jamie looks offended, that muscle pulsing in his jaw again. Anna feels the mood has shifted. This isn’t what she wants. She doesn’t want to have a discussion aboutthem, not now– not at all, to be honest– and especially when they have somewhere to be.
“I’m not being distant, I just have something up my sleeve, something I’ve been arranging, and it’s time-sensitive, so we need to go.”
The look Jamie sends her says he’s neither convinced nor letting this go, but willing to pause it for now. She’ll take that– The Conversation can be Future Anna’s problem.
“You’re in the front this time,” she throws at him, opening the front door, changing the subject.
“You’re driving the chariot?”
“I am,” she says, determined. “Today you are the princess.”
This turns out to be something Anna regrets by the time they reach the end of the street. Jamie has apparently bought an old Christiania bike, one built before batteries, and each rotation of the pedals is exhausting.
“Do you want to swap?” he asks.
“No,” she insists through gritted teeth.
“It saves on the gym membership.” Great.
“I do that in London, by not actually joining. Much cheaper.”
“I wanted a second-hand one. It’s literally recycling.” Of course it is, Anna seethes in her head. Her quads are screaming already. His weight in the front is making this far worse, but her pride is calling the shots. She wants her gift to be epic, so delivering him to it under her own steam is part of the parcel.
“What are we doing?”
“Still not telling.” He’s asked her approximately every two minutes.
“Shall we stop and get a bottle of wine? Orgløgg?”
