“Come on in.” Theo held the door for me, and I brushed past into the living room, the bay windows looking down into the street. There was even a fireplace, although I couldn’t see any evidence it had been used recently. Bookshelves lined the walls, and I peered at them, hoping they’d tell me more about my temporary landlord.
“A lot of those belong to my aunt,” Theo said from behind me. “This is her flat.” In the bay window sat a keyboard, and next to it a little table, neatly stacked with music scores. The place was small but immaculate, and it was so Theo it hurt.
I felt as though I was walking inside Theo’s head, a precise, efficient space that managed somehow to be warm at the edges. The air held a faint trace of coffee and cologne.
“Tea? Coffee?”
I flashed him a grateful smile. “Tea would be good.”
Theo didn’t return it but headed into another part of the flat.
I followed.
I watched Theo move. Everything about him was deliberate, even the way he reached for the kettle. He stirred sugar into a mug as if he was conducting an orchestra no one else could hear. I wanted to say something easy, to cut through the tension humming between us, but my tongue wouldn’t cooperate.
I shouldn’t still feel this way. I’m twenty-two, for God’s sake. I’d had crushes since. I’d even dated a bit, not that those had gone anywhere or lasted all that long. Butnoneof it had ever hit like this, the slow gravitational pull that was Theo Sinclair.
What came to mind was the leather bar. The flicker of surprise in Theo’s eyes. The sharp, low warning.
You shouldn’t be here.
At the time, it had stung. Now, seeing Theo again under the soft kitchen light, I thought maybe it had been fear more than judgment.
Theo set the mug down on the counter and pushed it toward me. “One sugar.”
I smiled before I could stop myself. “You remembered?”
Theo’s hand stilled for a second before he stirred it again, removed the spoon, and slid the cup closer, his gaze fixed somewhere over my shoulder. “Of course.”
Our fingers brushed as I reached for it, nothing but the slightest touch of skin on skin, brief and electric, but it was enough to make every cell in my body light up.
I took a breath to steady myself.
It didn’t work.
“Thanks.” It was all I could manage.
Theo’s jaw flexed. “There isn’t a spare room here, so you’ll have to sleep on the sofa bed.” He pointed to the wide grey sofa along one wall. “But it opens into a double bed.” He took a step back, putting distance between us. “The sheets are fresh.” Then he pointed to the desk on the left of the chimney breast. “You can use that when you need to work.”
“Won’t you need it?”
Theo shook his head. “There’s a table in the bedroom, like one of those you find in a hospital. It slides on wheels. I think my aunt got it for my uncle before he died. And I’ve already set upmy PC in there, so I won’t be in your way.” A faint frown creased his brow. “I work from home. I wasn’t sure if you knew that.”
“I didn’t, but I do now. I won’t disturb you when you’re working.”
I wanted to tell Theo it didn’t have to be awkward, that I wasn’t a kid anymore, that I could handle this. But one look at Theo’s face—composed, guarded, beautiful in that understated, impossible way—and all the words died on my tongue.
“I’ll show you the bathroom.” Theo led me through another door.
I peered inside. “This is great,” I said, trying for lightness. “Better than my last place. No mushrooms growing in the shower.” It was a decent size too.
Theo’s lips twitched. “That’s a low bar.”
“It’s London,” I said with a grin. “The bar’s several feet underground.”
For a second, something eased in Theo’s face. It wasn’t a smile exactly, but close enough.
A tiny crack in Theo’s armour, and I longed to reach through it.