Page 24 of Enemies to Lovers

‘Jesus!’ I utter, holding up my hands in surrender – partly to shield my face, and partly as an unconscious reaction that will let Jamie know: I had absolutely no idea he was: a) awake and b) stark bollock-naked. He’s bent over, rifling through a bag on the floor, and fromthis angle I can seeeverything. His ginormous swingingeverything.

‘What the—’ Jamie gasps, scuttling to stand up. He uses a hand to cover hisginormous swinging everything, but to be honest, despite the size of his hands, that doesn’t cover it all. His jaw drops and he swallows once, hard – a big, satisfying gulp. And I just stand. And wait. I don’t know what I’m waiting for, but I daren’t move, and we look at each other, shocked. I see his pupils dilate, and then he lunges for a pair of boxers and says, ‘Shit. Sorry. Urm …’

It’s then that I remember to shield my eyes and look away. ‘Sorry,’ I whisper, not wanting to wake up the rest of the house. ‘I didn’t think you’d be up.’

‘I couldn’t sleep,’ he mutters, finding a pair of shorts, too. They’re tiny things, the sort that only a man with thighs like his can pull off. He stands taller now he’s ‘dressed’. I am free to look, now. He adds, ‘I was planning to go for a run.’

I nod. ‘Same,’ I say.

‘You’re going for a run?’

‘I couldn’t sleep either,’ I reply.

And he says, ‘Oh.’

I narrow my eyes at him as he moves to pull on his trainers. ‘I didn’t know you were a runner,’ I comment.

‘I’m an everything,’ he says. ‘As long as it moves my body. I like to keep busy,’ he adds. ‘It helps. You know. My head, or whatever.’

I roll my eyes. I almost thought we had something in common there, with the running, but he’s not a runner. He’s aneverything.Well, excuse me, Your Excellency.

‘Anyway,’ he breezes, waving a hand, ‘I’ll leave you to it.’

He’s gone before I can reply.

I set off towards the hill behind the house, because Dad mentioned that the house ring-binder with all the info about the local area says it’s got great views, and although I prefer to run on the flat, occasionally pushing hard on hills feels good, just for the change. I half run, half hike, because it’s steep – steeper than yesterday. But I love the feeling of my blood pumping, of all the bad thoughts and feelings leaving my body.

And then I see Jamie.

He must sense me, because there, at the top of the big hill (I mean, we could call it a mountain, to be fair, from the way I am puffing and panting), he spins round and his face falls.

‘Are you following me?’ he asks crossly.

‘No,’ I say. I sound insulted. Iaminsulted. ‘Why would I follow you?’

He doesn’t say anything.

‘I’ll go,’ I offer, already backing away. It’s too early for this. I’ll head back and loop into town, like yesterday. ‘Sorry.’

I start to make my way back towards the trail. Iwould have liked to catch my breath more, but I can walk down, maybe find a bench on the hillside somewhere to take in the view.

‘Flo, wait.’

I almost ignore him, but decide against it. Ignoring Jamie isn’t in the spirit ofexposure therapy, after all. I turn round.

‘You don’t have to go,’ he says, in the same way that a person might offer to clean up after a party. He doesn’t mean it.

I narrow my eyes at him.

‘Nobody should be deprived of this view,’ he presses, gesturing around us. Finally I look up properly.

It really is gorgeous.

We’re in a small clearing right at the top. There are incredible panoramic views over the sea, the bay, and then right across to the old town where we had dinner, too. I get that feeling in my chest that I had when we arrived and I took my first dip in the ocean: space. Room to breathe. Contentedness. I don’t even realise I’ve said anything out loud until Jamie says, ‘I agree. Whoa, indeed.’

I’m gasping, sweating, and Jamie spots it before I can think to conceal it, wordlessly handing me a water bottle that I didn’t realise he’d been carrying. I take it and drink.

There’s a semicircular wooden bench, designed so that no matter which bit you sit on, you can see something amazing. I meander over, sitting down with theocean view, and let myself be for a moment. I won’t be long, I just need a beat.

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