Page 32 of The Fly-Half

He chuckled dryly and shook his head as he slid off his trainers. Like me, he was only wearing a hoodie and joggers, and I tried not to imagine what they’d look like on my bedroom floor. Or what I’d look like wandering around in his hoodie and nothing else. “No, not really.”

“Are you ill? Do you need some pills? I think I’ve got some cold and flu in the kitchen.”

He shook his head again as he walked through to my sitting room whereDix pour centwas still playing on the TV and my plate of nearly finished pancakes was resting on the coffee table with my half-drunk mug of coffee. “Nah, it’s not that. Just didn’t get much sleep,” he said. “Sorry, I’ve disturbed you.”

“You’re fine,” I said, picking up the remote to flick the TV off as I gestured for him to sit down. “Do you want a drink?”

“No, I’m okay. Thanks.” He sat on the end of the sofa, foot bouncing as he watched me. It was like watching a predator prowling around a cage, completely on edge and two seconds away from snapping. What the fuck had Mason and West said to him? I’d trusted the pair of them to go easy on him, but now I was wondering if I’d somehow handed Jonny over to the mob.

“What’s going on?” I asked as I sat down at the other end of the sofa, leaving plenty of room between us. “Did something happen? Is this about yesterday?”

“Sort of, but it’s not about the match. I’m sure I’ll get my ass chewed out at some point, though, even though Clive went pretty easy on me yesterday.”

“Then what’s it about?”

His foot was still bouncing as he turned to look at me. “Did West and Mason say anything to you?”

“Yeah,” I said. This was not the right time to lie or try and play games, mostly because I needed Jonny to be honest with me. “They just asked me if there was something going on with you because they were worried.”

Okay, so maybe a tiny white lie was necessary. But I wasn’t going to pour out my feelings until I knew what they’d said.

Jonny chuckled again. “Worried? That’s one way to put it.”

“What happened?”

“Nothing,” he said and for the first time in days he smiled. It made my chest ache because I realised how much I missed seeing him like this. I wasn’t used to him being so grumpy, wound-up, and snappy, and it made me realise how much I wanted my Jonny—the quiet, sarcastic, sweet man—back. “Not really, anyway. They cornered me last night and pretty much read me the riot act. And they said a bunch of other stuff too.” He waved his hand and glanced back at the TV, even though it was off. And I realised he was trying to look everywhere but at me.

“Oh yeah, what about?”

“Me. You. My feelings. My behaviour. What might be causing me to act like a complete twat.”

I swallowed, my heart beating so fast I almost felt dizzy. “What… er, what did you… did they…” Why were words so damn hard? My tongue suddenly felt like lead and I could barely speak.

“They think I’m jealous,” he said quietly, still not looking at me. I was transfixed on him, hanging on his every word. “That I’m lashing out because I don’t like the idea of you spending time with other people… with Peaches.”

“Are you?”

“Yeah, I think I am.” I let out a choked gasp as my breath caught in my throat. “Every time I think about you two together I get so angry I want to fucking punch something. The idea of himputting his hands on you, God, it makes me want to break his fucking fingers.”

“But you said… you told me…”

“Yeah, well, I lied,” he said, finally turning to face me. His eyes were burning with a possessive desire I’d never seen before and it floored me. In my wildest dreams, I’d never imagined Jonny looking at me like this—like if he couldn’t have me, then nobody should.

“I’ve been lying to myself, Dev, and to you. I fucking hate the idea of you being with anyone else. If you’re with anyone, it should be me and only me. Because, fuck, if I have to think about you shagging someone else one more time, then—”

His words ended in a muffled huff as I threw myself across the sofa, grabbed the front of his hoodie, and pulled him in to kiss.

It wasn’t soft or sweet or in any way romantic. Instead it was rough and awkward and almost clumsy, like our faces had collided for a second, but then Jonny’s hand wrapped around the back of my neck as his mouth moved against mine, deepening the kiss into something fierce and possessive. And I fucking groaned.

“Better?” I asked when we finally broke apart, our faces barely an inch from each other. Jonny’s eyes were wide, but that might have just been the fucked-up perspective. His hand was still gripping my neck, though, his fingers hot against my skin.

“Yes,” he said in a low, rumbling growl that didsomethingto my insides. I’d never thought of Jonny as a possessive, jealous man but Peaches had been right—he’d wanted me all along. Only he hadn’t figured it out until now. And fuck, I didn’t know how to live with that information. It was like a complete overload. I’d wanted him for so damn long and here we were, kissing on my sofa.

It didn’t feel anywhere close to real.

“I can hear you thinking,” Jonny said, the tiniest smile twisting the corner of his lips. “Tell me what’s going on, Dev.”

“How is this real?” I asked, my fingers still clasped tightly in the front of his hoodie, knuckles turning almost white. “It can’t be real.”

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