Patchwork Paradise(32)

“Would you though?” He sat up too, and for the first time since I’d known him, this brick of a man looked small. “Would you stay friends or would we have . . . gone our own ways?”

“Of course I’d have stayed friends with you,” I said, confused. I opened my mouth to say something else, but a loud groan erupted above us and we dove back under our pillows. “We could sneak up to the top floor,” I whispered. “We won’t hear them there.”

“But the painting,” Thomas said. He lifted my shield a little, and we were staring at each other in the semidarkness of our sanctuary. He laughed softly, and his breath whuffed against my face. I felt sleepy and comfortable. His eyes were dark pools of safety I could lose myself in.

“You’ve seen me naked now.” An embarrassing drunken giggle escaped me, and I covered my mouth. Thomas lifted his finger and traced the back of my hand.

“And it was glorious,” he said. I laughed. My hand fell away. His eyes locked on to mine. I didn’t know who reached for whom, but our mouths came together, warm and comfortable and a little off-center. My bottom lip stuck between his. I felt the moist press of his tongue. He laughed again, even as his eyes drooped, and then I was asleep.



I woke up with a pounding headache and with breath that could’ve come straight from the mouths of Cerberus. I groaned and stretched as I tried to peel my eyelids open. Sunlight spilled through the half-drawn curtains, but it was murky so I figured it was still pretty early. Someone had put a blanket over me. The couch beside me was empty. Had Thomas gone up to bed after all?

A small noise made me sit up. He was standing in the doorway, freshly showered and newly dressed. “I didn’t mean to wake you,” he said. “You can go back to sleep. It’s early.”

I frowned at him, pushed the bird’s nest out of my eyes, and stood on wobbly legs. “What about you?”

“I’m . . .” I realized he wasn’t looking at me. “I need to go.”

“Thomas?” His eyes flicked to mine and away again. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He finally looked at me, and there was . . . guilt? What the hell? “Go back to sleep, Ollie. I made coffee. It’s brewing now. It’ll still be fresh when you wake up again. I’ll—I’ll text you.” And then he was gone.

Stunned, I sat in my living room for a while until I realized I really needed to pee, and trudged up to my bathroom. Creeping by Cleo and Imran’s room, I was relieved to hear nothing but snores.

My hair was an absolute mess. I had pillow lines in the shape of a flower on my face. I brushed my teeth and stared at my reflection, tried to imagine Sam standing behind me, and couldn’t. I spit in the sink, wiped my mouth, and thought, Oh.

Thomas and I had kissed. Last night. I met my own eyes in the mirror and attempted to work out how I felt about that. Mostly confused about Thomas’s reaction, because that was why he’d run off. It’d been a harmless kiss. And I’d liked it. But he obviously . . . hadn’t.

I told Cleo about it while Imran showered. The longer I talked, the tighter her mouth pulled into a thin line.

“If Imran were here right now, he’d tell me it wasn’t any of my business, but Jesus, Oliver. Je-sus.”

Mind boggled, I sat back in my kitchen chair. “What?”

She blew out a breath that puffed up her cheeks, closed her eyes, and pinched her nose. All I had to do was wait, because I knew her, and I knew she’d talk eventually. Her eyes flew open. She grabbed my hands and gave them a rough shake.

“I love you,” she said. “You know I do.”

“Of course. I l—”

“But you can be remarkably dumb, Ollie. Remarkably dumb.”

“What? Cleo!”

Her jaw flexed, and she squeezed my hands. “Be quiet, because I’m going to make a big mistake and my conscience is about to take over. Thomas has been in love with you from the minute you brought him to that first dinner almost four years ago. He thought you two were going on a date, you *. And instead he walked in to see you canoodling with Sam. Who was, by the way, as perfect a specimen of manhood as I’ve ever seen. You broke Thomas’s heart.”

“Cleo . . .” I laughed, but my stomach twisted. “That’s not true. It can’t be.”

“We all knew, Ollie! Even Sam knew! You were the only one too dumb to see it.”

“Cleo!” She jumped guiltily in her chair, and Imran strode in, eyes dark with anger. “That wasn’t your secret to tell. I don’t believe you.”

“They kissed,” she snapped. “And as usual Ollie has no idea why Thomas might be upset.” She turned back to me. I’d never seen her this annoyed. “You know all those people he keeps sleeping with? It’s because he knows he’s not going to fall in love with anyone else.”

“Cleo, that’s enough!” Imran yelled. “Just because you’re in love with him—”

“I’m not!” She sprang to her feet and balled her tiny fists on her thighs. “But you’re never going to believe me, are you? You’re never going to forgive me!”

She stormed into the living room, and I got to my feet.

“I’ll go,” Imran said. He didn’t look mad anymore. Just sad. “But you might want to talk to Thomas.”