Page 58 of Enemies to Lovers

‘Damn,’ he says, moving it off the burner as he tries to figure out why the ring won’t turn down. ‘I really thought I could impress you with how good a cook I am. Urgh. Why isn’t this working?’

I peer past him and point to the dials.

‘Try that one,’ I say, and he laughs.

‘Right,’ he nods. ‘So what you’re telling me is that the knob with the little picture saying it’s for the leftactuallycontrols the left and not the right?’

‘Wild, isn’t it?’

‘It’s a good job you’re here.’

‘I’ll say.’

Jamiewinksat me then. A grown man, looking right at me,winking. It’s so cheeky and unexpected that I burst out with a surprised ‘Huh!’ and splutter, ‘We’re winking now, are we? We’re bringing that back into style?’

He shrugs, ‘Let’s make itvogue,’ he says, using my dad’s word.

I wink back at him, making Jamie chew his bottom lip in amusement.

‘Yeah,’ he says. ‘We shoulddefinitelymake that vogue.’

As we chop and slice and boil and fry, Jamie keeps telling megood. Andthank you. Andwell done. I return the words of affirmation by sayingof course, chef, andyou’re welcome, chef, andanything else, chef?When he comes up behind me to stir the sauce for his prawns, he puts a hand over mine gently. ‘You’re being very helpful,’ he murmurs.

‘Just doing my job,chef,’ I reply.

He lingers this time, his chin over my shoulder on one side, his hand grazing my hip on the other.This, I think, not really understanding what ‘this’ means.

This.

I struggle to open a jar of capers and stand too close to him as I ask for help. He pops the lid off the jar and I hold eye-contact as I say, ‘My hero.’ The way he looks at me – dear Lord, I will remember that look for as long as I live. Jamie inhales sharply and flares his nostrils as he lets out a long, slow breath.

‘Flo,’ he says, like it’s a warning, like he can’t be held responsible for what he does next. His pupils are like saucers, big as planets. His tongue nips at his lip, and I realise then that every other single time he’s done that, it has never – not once – not been on purpose. It has been for my benefit every single time. Goddammit.

‘Sorry, guys,’ Alex’s voice suddenly booms. Jamie and I leap apart like we’ve been caught with our hands in the cookie jar, but luckily Alex is rubbing his temples and hasn’t noticed. ‘I’m gonna sack off dinner and call it a night,’ he tells us. ‘My head. Too much sun, I reckon.’

I nod, as Jamie turns his back to the stove and stirs a pot.

‘Yeah, mate,’ Jamie says. ‘No worries at all. I won’t be far behind you, I don’t think. I’m pretty pooped, too.’

‘Cheers,’ Alex says, shuffling along the room to get to the far door. ‘Look after yourself.’

‘Yeah, you too,’ Jamie says, and I watch Alex leave.

Jamie goes back to the table, but I linger when my phone beeps. Obviously it’s Hope. Anyone else who might text me is here. She’s sent a couple of photos from her day exploring Prague, including a selfie fromoutside a bar, where she’s holding up a beer as big as her head.This was one pound fifty!she’s written.Now tell me about Jamie whilst I drink it!

I tell her I can’t – that he’s here.

‘I could take you sailing,’ Jamie announces when I’ve put my phone down.

‘Sailing?’ I say, confused.

‘It would be good to … hang out,’ he says. ‘If you want.’

I nod. ‘Okay,’ I reply. ‘Yeah.’

‘We could … chat,’ he offers.

‘Chat,’ I repeat, with a smirk. It doesn’t sound like he’s suggestingchat.

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