Page 17 of Strawberry Kisses

I rolled my eyes, gripped the handle of my suitcase, and tapped my ass to double-check my phone was in the back pocket of my jeans. I grabbed my keys off the little table by the door and my pink, faux-leather jacket—which was one of my favourites for the summer—before running through a quick mental checklist.

“Okay, I’ve got everything. We can go now,” I said, giving Patrick my most charming smile. Patrick was staring at me, a faraway look in his eyes. “You okay?”

“Yeah… I was thinking. You look very nice by the way.” He leant down and gently pressed a kiss to my cheek. “And I like your perfume.”

My skin burned under his lips, his touch sending a million electric shocks through my nerves. He’d never done that before.

“Sorry,” he said gently. “I just… I thought I ought to get used to doing that. You know, so people don’t suspect we’re faking.”

The electricity turned to ice in my veins, pain lancing through me.

“Y-yeah, no, I get it.” I swallowed and nodded, trying not to let it show how much his words had crushed me. This was just fake, and I fucking well needed to remember that, or it was gonna hurt a lot more on Monday. “Let’s go then.”

Patrick picked up my suitcase, because of fucking course he was a gentleman like that, leaving me to lock my flat door before we made our way down the three flights of stairs to the little car park behind my building. Patrick’s little blue Fiesta was parked in one of the visitor’s bays, and he carefully placed my case on the back seat without even so much as a tiny swear when it needed a push to slide onto the seat. He seemed genuinely unfazed while I felt like I’d just ridden The Smiler at Alton Towers twice in a row. I wasn’t sure whether I wanted to laugh, cry, or vomit into a bag.

At this rate, I was going to be a complete mess by Monday. And by that I meant an even bigger mess than I already was.

“Are you ready?” Patrick asked, looking at me from the driver’s side door.

“Yeah, all ready.” I pulled open the door and slid onto the seat, noticing the shopping bag tucked in by my feet. A quick glance showed me bottles of water, some of my favourite Pepsi Max Cherry, and some snacks, including my all-time favourite, wine gums. Damn, Patrick knew me well. My stomach clenched again. Patrick being adorably caring and automatically bringing me my favourite sweets and some drinks was not going to help the situation.

Instead, I looked around, trying to find something else to focus on. Anything to take my mind off the fact that I could still feel Patrick’s lips against my cheek. I glanced at the old TomTom SatNav stuck onto the windscreen, noting the driving time was currently sitting at four hours, twenty-three minutes. I was going to have to find something to talk to Patrick about, otherwise it was going to be a very long trip.

“So,” I said as we turned out of the car park and onto the leafy street where my flat was located. “How’re you feeling about this? You doing okay?”

“Er, I think so. I mean, it’ll be nice to see everyone again I suppose. I haven’t actually seen them since before Christmas last year.”

“Been avoiding them?”

“Maybe a little.”

“I get that. I mean, your family sounds lovely but ever so slightly overbearing.” Patrick had spent an hour the other night telling me about his sisters and his parents, and they all sounded completely bonkers. Even if it was in a loving way. “How long do you think it’ll be until someone asks if we’re going to get married?”

Patrick laughed weakly as we stopped at some traffic lights. “I mean, do you want an honest guess?”

“Oh, definitely.” I kicked off my Converse, wondering if it was too early to start the wine gums.

“Well, if anyone’s going to ask, it’ll be Mary or Cara because they’re both nosy as hell. But I don’t know if they’d ask me when you’re around.” I made a mental note and rummaged in the shopping bag, giving in to my desire for sweets. I’d been trying to hold out until we got to the motorway, but since it always took forever to get out of Nottingham, I’d decided I couldn’t wait.

“Anyone else?” I asked, opening the bag.

“Probably a couple of aunts since they all love a good wedding, and they wouldn’t want us ‘living in sin’ together. Mum doesn’t think they’ll be fussed about the gay thing at all. It might just be the whole ‘having sex before I’ve made an honest man of you’ thing.”

I snorted. “Well you could always be honest and tell them we haven’t had sex.”

Patrick’s face turned a beautiful shade of beetroot. “No thanks. I’d rather they keep thinking the opposite.”

Oh… that was interesting. Very interesting…

Unprompted, because it clearly hated me, my brain started to wonder just what Patrick would be like in bed and what he might look like naked. I’d never seen him in less than a T-shirt and shorts, but my brain was happy to fill in the picture, reminding me that if we had to share a room, there might be a chance I’d get to see Patrick shirtless. Or even in his boxers…

My cock twitched in my jeans.

Shit. No. Bad dick. Very bad. We were not allowed to imagine Patrick naked, and we were not allowed to try to sneak peeks at him over the weekend either.

I shoved two wine gums into my mouth.

This was going to be a long, long four days.

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