Page 58 of No Strings Christmas

‘I mean, I really like it. And I like you.’ He clears his throat. ‘Fuck. As it turns out, I’m not good at this.’

‘Good at what?’ My heart is going crazy for no reason I can think of. Hope—an impossible to define, all-consuming hope—fills me. ‘Zach?’

Suddenly I wish I had a wine, rather than a tea.

‘I like you. Like you like you. And I don’t want you to go back to London.’

He stares at me for several seconds then runs a hand through his hair. ‘Say something.’

I shake my head, numb and electrified all at once. I don’t know what to say but I know that pieces of me are clicking into place in a way I didn’t realise I needed them to. I do know that my own feelings are starting to make more sense. I do know that I ‘like like’ him too. And that’s only the beginning of how I feel. I’m terrified by that but as soon as I realise it I know I can’t run from this—from him. I stare at him blankly as finally everything starts to make sense, and I mean everything.

‘You don’t need to look so panicked. I’m not offering marriage. I’m not saying that I love you or can’t live without you. I’m just suggesting you extend your trip a bit. Until this thing has really run its course.’

My heart swoops. My stomach feels hollowed out. Crushing disappointment follows the strange realisation of what I’ve been feeling.

‘Nothing more than what we’ve got now.’ He leans closer, brushing his lips to mine, perhaps misunderstanding my silence. ‘Just a few weeks more of this. Meaningless, amazing sex.’

My heart almost grinds to a halt.

I ache all over. It’s the champagne and eggnog, right? Making me woozy and confused? Making me think I feel something I’ve never ever felt in my whole life? This can’t be happening.

‘Because that’s what this is,’ I say uncertainly, but he must think I’m being emphatic, reminding him of the terms of our agreement.

‘Scout’s honour.’ He nods.

Crap.

I shake my head, standing up, rejecting his words, rejecting this.

‘I know it’s not what we said.’ He speaks quietly, gently trying to convince me. ‘But are you really ready to go?’

I stare out over Singapore.

‘Think about it, Jessica. The day after Christmas was just some arbitrary date—the date you happen to be leaving. Do you really feel like this is over between us? Are you ready to not see me again?’

My heart squeezes and I make a strange, strangling noise as I try to suck in enough air to sustain me. Oh, God. I’m such an idiot. How could I let this happen? I turn to face him, the drowning sensation not abating.

‘No.’ The word is just a whisper. ‘But that’s why I have to go.’

He stands up, his frustration obvious.

‘That doesn’t make any sense.’

‘Yes, it does.’

‘You don’t want to leave me.’

‘No.’

Tears fill my throat. I swallow hard, refusing to give into them.

‘So stay. Just another week. Stay here, not at the hotel. Be here, in my life, my bed. Nothing has to change—we both know what we want from each other. This is so perfect, Jessica. I’ve never been with anyone who had the same outlook on life and relationships as me.’

I feel like the biggest fraud in the world. I feel as if I’ve duped him completely, but, in my defence, I duped myself too. I didn’t see any of this coming. I’m completely blindsided to realise how I feel about him, but there’s no avoiding it.

‘This is just sex?’ I say quietly, my eyes locked to his, my heart needing to hear the truth of how he feels.

‘Absolutely.’ He frowns. ‘I mean, I really like you, so no, I guess there’s something more there too, but it’s nothing serious. It’s just fun, like we said.’

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