Page 89 of Enemies to Lovers

Jamie doesn’t say anything for a minute, and I feel every second ticking by. I can’t rush him – it wouldn’t be fair. But I do watch him process what I’ve said, turning over my admission in his mind. He looks out to sea, down at his hands, then swiftly at me, with his trademark half-unreadable stare. Then he smiles.

Shaking his head, he says, ‘I’m head-over-heels for you, too.’

I don’t know how I thought it might feel to hear a wonderful, handsome, kind and funny man tell methat, but it feels a hundred times better than any song I’ve ever heard or any movie I’ve ever seen. I let out a smallsquee-like sound of happiness, and Jamie laughs.

‘It was like freaking lightning striking when we met. You were wearing denim shorts and a red vest top.’

He remembers what I was wearing? That’s funny. Because I remember what he was wearing, too.

‘You had on cargo shorts,’ I say. ‘And a Ramones T-shirt.’

He looks at me, his tongue darting out over those full lips, happy that I have these memories, too.

‘I’m sorry for everything,’ I tell him.

He holds out a hand, which, seated so closely, is hard to do. It means his palm is very close to his stomach, so when I reach out to take it, my knuckles brush his T-shirt.

‘Truce?’ he says.

‘Truce,’ I reply.

We shake hands, grinning like idiots, and neither of us wants to be the one to let go first. He gives a gentle tug, so that our hands are entwined in his lap and I’m leaning closer to him.

I release my hand from his and cup his face, a hand up either cheek. I pull his mouth to mine, softly and with care, kissing him with every feeling I have in my body, slowly, slowly, slowly, admiring every inch of his chin, his stubble, his chiselled cheekbones, the way hetastes like oranges and smells like spice. He pulls on the back of my neck and it makes us both laugh, but we don’t break apart. It’s him and me, and I have no idea what this means now, but I know I feel safe. Like anything is possible. Like if it’s going to be him and me, nothing can go wrong.

I lose myself in the kiss until a roar of applause forces us apart. My family. Mum, Dad, Alex, Laurie and Kate are standing by the bottom of the villa’s steps, cheering us on with glee. Even Laurie looks happy.

‘Finally!’ shouts Dad, and I bury my face in Jamie’s T-shirt. I’m not embarrassed to be with him, or ashamed that everyone has seen, but the things I want to do to this man sitting beside me … I don’t want my family reading all these filthy thoughts I’m having.Thatwould be embarrassing.

I see that they’ve all got beach chairs and blankets, the Bluetooth speaker and a cool box of drinks, so I sit with my head on Jamie’s shoulder, looking at the sea as they set up a small way from us, laughing and joking and generally carrying on as if the most perfect thing in the worldhasn’tjust happened.

Eventually, though, I have to ask, ‘So … are you really leaving?’

Jamie uses a finger to guide my face in his direction and nods. ‘I am,’ he says. ‘It’s time.’

My heart sinks. ‘Okay,’ I reply. Maybe this means we have to put things on pause for a while, then. I can’texpect him to drop everything for me. Although I suppose I thought he might. Maybe acknowledging our feelings will have to be enough.

‘I think you should come with me, though,’ he says, eyes alight with mischief.

‘Ha ha,’ I say. ‘Sure. I’ll simply throw my bikini in my bag …’ I can tell by the way he’s looking at me, though, that he’s not kidding. ‘But,’ I say, because of course this is ridiculous, ‘I don’t know anything about sailing!’

‘I can teach you,’ Jamie says, as if it’s the most obvious thing ever. ‘I didn’t know how to sail until somebody taught me.’

‘Is it even allowed?’ I ask. ‘Won’t the boat’s owner mind?’

Jamie shrugs. ‘She’s not there,’ he says. ‘That’s the point. I just have to get the boattoher in one piece. I mean, she won’t pay you or anything.’

‘I have savings,’ I say, before I can stop myself.

‘You’ll be fed …’ Jamie adds. ‘Fuck it, Flo. What else have you got planned? No pressure, okay? But I love you. And you love me. And it would be a shame not to spend the rest of the summer having more of that lovely sex.’ I hit his arm. But he has a point. Itislovely sex. ‘It’s up to you.’

I shake my head, my heart beating out of my chest to let me know what I should do.

‘How long do I have to decide?’ I ask.

‘Half an hour.’

I blink. Okay. I’ve never been impulsive before or jumped without looking in my life. What was it Mum said? Sometimes a pause is better than a misstep? Well, I don’t think that’s true. Missteps are what life is made of. The adventure of not knowing and trusting I’ll be okay is the point. And it’s then that it hits me – I don’t feel anxious about this one tiny bit. I trust it will all work out. I’m okay.I’m okay, I’m okay, I’m okay.

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