Page 75 of Only Ever You

Faye slumped on the edge of the bed, staring at the empty space where Bash had been for four seconds before letting out a heavy groan and folding forwards over her knees.

This was single-handedly the most mortifying moment of her life. More than when she’d walked in on one of their old house mates getting frisky with their girlfriend. More than when her dad and Ruth had come home early from their evening at the theatre and caught her kissing goodbye to her first ever boyfriend at the door. More mortifying than waking up only days ago to find that her derrière had become the temporary home to Bash’s morning glory.

Her hand pressed to her chest where her heart raced as if it was trying to beat some kind of sprint record.

Once more, how was she supposed to look him in the eye ever again? How was she supposed to share this bed with him tonight?

“Oh god—” Faye sprang to her feet while water dripped down her legs like the bed they shared had been sullied by acts her very state of nakedness would suit.

Bash had seen …everything.

Full view.

Head to toe and everything in between.

She hadn’t even been standing remotely attractive at all; pigeon-toed and hips pushed forwards, chin tucked to her chest to rearrange the towel she may as well have not bothered with now. He’d caught her unprepared for being looked at naked which felt like a nightmare come true.

Could she claim she was sick from all of the cold weather and hide up in this room to miss out on seeing him at the party? No? Faye didn’t think so either.

She didn’t have time to dwell on this. The nightstand clock said she had only twenty minutes to dry her hair and add some make-up, and she was going to need every minute if she was going to recover herself from insecurity.

Stressing about how repulsed Bash would be by her was a problem forlaterFaye to work through.

23

BASH

By order of his mother,he’d been put on guest greeting duty, perpetually smoothing down the front of his jumper and pushing up the curl of hair from his forehead that annoyed him with how much it refused to stay in place. Bash would’ve gone back to the bedroom to steal some of Faye’s hairspray to tame the curl, but he wanted to give her space.

The vision he’d accidentally walked in on was imprinted on his retinas as a new permanent feature. He’d told Faye to lock the door if she didn’t want anyone to walk in whilst she dressed – meaning his excitable nieces – and she hadn’t.

Still, he didn’t know why he’d assumedhecould walk in without knocking. He’d only wanted to fetch the watch he’d forgotten. Instead, he’d been halted by the sight of Faye opening up that soft white cotton towel like she unwrapped herself as a gift. Angels had sung and cherubs floated through a clouded sky. It had been a minute instead of the literal split second of Bash left stunned in the prime spot for a full view of her, and?—

God, he shouldn’t think about how he’d reacted too late tonotsee Faye completely naked without her consent. Guilt and desire mixed within him and neither side was winning. He’d resisted the hardening in his trousers – because this was a family affair – with more willpower than he’d given to anything before.

“Son? Are you alright?”

“Hm?” Bash reined himself back from his daydream.

“You look as if your mind’s wandered off and found paradise.”

It had. It very much had.

Bash blinked long and hard and remembered where he was beside his father. “Sorry, must be the wine.”

“In that case, you might want to go easy tonight, Sébastien.” His father’s eyes wandered down to the half glass of red in his hand. Bash promised himself no more than one glass tonight and made his way in increments. When Uncle Mortimer began to talk nonsense, he’d go for the other half.

“Think of your liver,” Arthur added.

“Will do, Dad.” Bash only drank light socially anyway – another thing he’d learned not to indulge in to make himself feel better.

The last of the guests arrived in dribs and drabs. Bash knew some names from Christmases and birthdays of years gone by, but he didn’t spend enough time around his parents’ friends to hazard a guess at much more than that.

His social battery often emptied at times like this when there were so many strangers around him. It was exhausting to constantly worry about what people saw when they looked at him.

Was it the wrinkles by his eyes? Or the crookedness of a few of his teeth when he smiled? The grey hairs above his ears were a fairly new addition to the list. Did they look at his stomach and wonder why he clenched in so much? Or why he couldn’t seem to hold anybody’s eye for more than a few sentences at a time.

Exhausting. Micromanaging the tension of each and of every muscle – keeping the right ones taut. Twisting himself into just the right angle to whoever he stood with took so many of the metaphorical spoons he’d told Faye about. He was better at letting go of control than he used to be, but damn there were strangers in this house judging hisfamily even if they didn’t know it, and they would judge him too.

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