The Day She Came Back(41)

Flynn lifted her face to his and kissed her, kissed her properly, with promise. It felt a lot like a beginning. Her skin prickled and every nerve and every fibre in her being yearned to feel his skin against hers. Victoria peeled off her vest and shrugged her bony hips out of her cut-offs before lying on top of him. She liked the way he pushed down on her back muscles, forcing out any gap between them, as close as they could be – well, almost.

It was only tiredness that put a halt to their making out. And with the rare and wonderful comfort of being held and with her head resting on his chest, Victoria felt safe and slept until mid-morning.





SEVEN

Victoria opened her eyes and found she was smiling. This had been rare in recent weeks and the feeling of bunched-up excitement deep in her stomach even rarer. Flynn was no longer on the sofa, but she could hear him pottering in the kitchen as the bang and crash of pots and pans echoed along the hallway. She wasn’t sure how she felt about him still being here, about him having been here at all, but turning her head to inhale the cushion that held the scent of his head was enough to send her into a dizzying spin. Plus, it was nice to have company. She kicked her legs against the sofa cushions, childlike. They had enjoyed skin-on-skin fumbling in the dark, which had not only been exciting but also the most glorious distraction imaginable. Who would believe it? And, actually, the question was more: who did she have to tell now that Daksha was not instantly the person she felt she could text/call/speak to? A quick check on her phone confirmed her friend had not composed something comical and cutting by way of reparation, as she usually did after even the smallest tiff. This felt different, like a deeper cut, and she didn’t like it at all. It would have hurt a lot more, however, if she were not already feeling a little bruised and let down by life – what was one more loss?

She stood, stretched and raked her fingers through her unwashed hair, strangely caring little just how presentable she was, as if they had quickly got past such things. Her skin still glowed at the memory of his hand resting on the flat of her stomach.

The sight of him in the kitchen was both surprising and thrilling. Her concerns about his presence evaporated, wiped out by the frisson of joy in her gut. Flynn hummed as he whipped eggs in a bowl and took his time over grinding in fat twists of black pepper and then sprinkling salt flakes from a respectable height.

‘Eat your heart out, Nigella!’ She leaned against the dresser, happy to watch him work.

‘What time do you call this?’ He flapped the dishcloth towards her. ‘I’ve been slaving over a hot stove all morning and you roll in, expecting to be fed!’

She laughed, a softer, more natural kind of laugh this morning, because she felt the first forgotten flickering of happy, because he had kissed her passionately and she no longer had to fear that first kiss, because Flynn McNamara was the boy she had thought about for more nights than she could count and because he was still here and he was cooking her breakfast. There was also relief, and her interior monologue was very clear as to why:

See, you are not alone. Flynn is here, no need to be scared. Someone is here with you . . .

‘I see you found everything you need?’ She took a seat at the table and saw for the first time the messy counters, the sink full of dirty implements and the discarded rubbish strewn on the floor.

‘Yes!’ he shouted. ‘Apart from the toaster, and we can’t have bacon, egg and hash browns without toast; that would be so wrong.’

‘It would, and the toaster lives under the sink.’ She pointed.

‘Lives under the sink,’ he repeated. ‘Like a naughty or unwanted pet. Tommy the toaster!’

‘Tommy the toaster,’ she agreed. ‘I think he nibbles the trapped crumbs, those dark bits that fall from the bread and become charcoal, lurking in the crevices so you have to turn the machine upside down over the sink and give it a good whack. I always think it’s very satisfying to see them all tumble out. And very disappointing if you don’t get a rich haul.’

‘Poor Tommy, no wonder he hides under the sink if all you do is shove bread in his mouth and whack him on the arse.’

‘I think some people pay good money for that.’ She grinned.

‘True that!’ he yelled with a flourish of his whisk as he set the eggs to one side and placed the skillet on the stove. ‘What shall we do after breakfast?’

‘Oh.’ This was unexpected. She had thought that he might leave after eating, and yet here he was, arranging the day ahead. It made her feel a little giddy that he was making a plan and also a little relieved that he was not intending to leave any time soon. ‘I’m supposed to be working in the coffee shop today, a late shift.’

‘How late?’ he asked over his shoulder as he wrestled Tommy from under the sink.

‘Start at four, finish at eight.’

‘That’s not going to happen.’

‘It’s not?’

‘No, Victoria. After we have eaten breakfast we need to watch a movie.’

‘Which movie?’ She was confused, wondering if she had lost the thread.

‘Any movie! And then after that we might watch another.’

‘And after that?’ she asked playfully, feeling quite ecstatic at the thought of a duvet day in front of the TV with this boy she so liked and who she hoped might be up for more of that kissing. A day where she didn’t have to think about anything. The prospect of a mental break from her anguish was a welcome one and she relished the thought of not having to try and figure out who had lied and why.