We returned to the living room. I dumped my bag by the desk and turned back. “Seriously, Theo. I owe you big time.”
Theo stood in the doorway, one hand braced against the frame, watching me with that unreadable look, the one that made my stomach flip. “You don’t owe me anything.”
Maybe it was the way he said it, quiet and flat, but it sounded like a warning.
I nodded slowly. “Okay.” I gazed at my surroundings, trying to picture the rest of my belongings, and panicking a little. “I know you said to only bring stuff for tonight, but…” I swallowed.
“What’s wrong?” Theo’s voice lost a little of its edge.
I bit my lip. “I was thinking about my easel. There’s no room in here for it.”
Theo put his hands on his hips and surveyed the space. “It can go where the keyboard is. That’s probably the best place for it anyway.” He cocked his head. “Natural light, right?”
That touched me. “Yes. Thank you.” Thanking him seemed to be all I could do today.
Theo hesitated for a second. “I’ll leave you to unpack.” He indicated the large wooden coffee table. “That’s actually a chest. You can put stuff in there so it’s out of the way. Dinner’s going to be a takeaway. I’ve got rehearsal notes to write. There are menus next to the fridge. Pick something, then let me know and I’ll have it delivered. But first I need some tea.” He headed toward the kitchen. “If you need anything, I’ll be in my bedroom.”
I smiled at his retreating back. “You never stop, do you?”
“Someone has to keep order,” Theo said over his shoulder.
The echo of the words hit me like déjà vu. Theo had said those same words at the bar a month ago. Back then, I’d teased him.
That someone doesn’t have to be you all the time.
Now, standing in Theo’s flat, I wasn’t sure whether to laugh or shiver.
I unpacked slowly, my sketchbook landing open on the desk, my pencils rolling loose from the side pocket. I could hear Theo moving in the kitchen behind me, the rhythmic clink of a spoon, the low hum of the kettle, small domestic noises that shouldn’t have sounded intimate but somehow did. Then a door opened, closed, and Theo was gone.
When I sat on the edge of the sofa, my pulse still hadn’t settled.
This is supposed to be temporary. Simple. A couch to crash on.
But when I closed my eyes, the picture that filled my head wasn’t a couch—it was Theo leaning over the counter, his sleeves rolled up, his voice soft as smoke.
I exhaled hard and scraped my fingers through my hair.
Don’t be an idiot.
Theo was Gary’s best friend. Theo was off-limits.
But there was the way he’d said my name. The tiny, startled pause when our fingers touched. The look in his eyes, as though he was seeing a ghost he’d never expected to meet again.
I swallowed.Maybe I imagined it.Then again, maybe I hadn’t.
Either way, I was here now, under Theo’s roof.
And whether Theo liked it or not, two weeks was a long time for something to break.
Or for something to start.
I stared at Theo’s bedroom door, then at the sofa. I laughed under my breath.
“I’m crashing on Theo’s couch,” I murmured to myself.
And God help me?—
“What Ireallywant,” I whispered, smiling at nothing, “is Theo’s bed.”