Page 59 of Love at First Sight

‘I actually can’t see anything at all,’ Cal says, because it’s pitch-black in the garden. I giggle.

‘Dad uninstalled his motion-sensor security light after the neighbours complained it was too bright,’ I explain, reaching for his shoulder to guide him through the gate. ‘Stoke Newington has an urban fox problem, and when they started getting really prolific they’d set the lights off scores of times throughout the night. And the noise of them, too. You’ve heard foxes having sex, haven’t you?’

‘I have,’ Cal says. ‘God bless them.’

We reach the house, and I let go of Cal to run my fingers along the window at the side of the French doors.

‘The trick is,’ I explain, as I undertake my work, ‘to find the little gap …’ Which I do at that exact moment,and wiggle my finger until there’s a space big enough for me to unhook it. It pops open. ‘And there we go! Give me a lift, would you?’

Cal bends down so I can stand on his knee, and I hoist myself up and slip through the open window. Then I undo all my elegance by stepping on something on the floor and fall to my knees with a thud.

‘Gah!’

Outside, Cal laughs, then catches himself and says, ‘Wait. Are you okay?’

I brush myself off, get up and look for the light switch. It’s a dimmer, so I can put it on low and wait for our eyes to adjust. I find the back-door key and let Cal in.

‘Nice place,’ he says, eyeing up the kitchen. ‘And ten-out-of-ten on the break-in skills. Quite impressive, really.’

‘Compliment accepted. Right. I’m going to go wake up Dad.’

‘I’ll …’ Cal looks around, eyes landing on the Nespresso. ‘Make coffee?’ he says. I instinctively look at the clock. 1.30 a.m.

‘Yeah,’ I say. ‘I need it.’

Dad is absolutely out for the count. I can’t blame him. When Craig and I ended things, I found myself in a similar state, only I turned to cheap prosecco instead of hard spirits. I close the blinds, put on a lamp in the corner, and turn off the big overhead light. He looks peaceful, asleep like this, I think to myself, despite knowing his head isgoing to hurt like hell in the morning. I cover him with a blanket and kiss his forehead, but even that doesn’t make him stir.Oh Dad, I think.I love you. And I do. I really, really do. It isn’t lost on me that I was the first person he called. He knew I’d come. Family always does.

He still owes me one hell of an apology though.

Maybe I’ll apologise too.

‘How is he?’ Cal asks, handing me a steaming mug when I re-enter the kitchen.

‘Okay,’ I say through a yawn. We should have been in bed hours ago. Cal eyes me, the start of a smirk playing across his mouth. ‘I don’t know how you’re still functioning,’ I add.

He tips his head, shaking it, the smirk breaking into an all-out smile.

‘What?’ I say, thinking he’s about to laugh at me. He sighs instead.

‘You just look so pretty,’ he says. ‘Your cheeks have gone all rosy and you’ve got mascara …’ He gestures to under my eyes, and I immediately panic.

‘Oh,’ I say, looking in the reflection of the metal extractor fan to try to fix it.

‘No,’ Cal says, reaching out to pull my hand away from my face. ‘I didn’t mean it’s bad. It’s … good? You look good, even though you’re a bit dishevelled. Well. Not dishevelled. You know. Oh god, this was meant to be a compliment.’

I bite down on my lip because otherwise I might laugh at him.

‘You’re an idiot,’ I say, and it isn’t until the words leave my mouth that I hear how they sound. They don’t sound like I’m teasing or reassuring him; they sound soft, quiet, an invitation for him to step closer so he can hear me better. Lessyou’re an idiotand moreI like how you’re still holding on to my wrist and maybe you should stay there. ‘An idiot?’ Cal says, his tone matching my own: low, suggestive. ‘How rude …’

The air is thick with tension, and it terrifies me, my heart thumping in my chest, breathing suddenly shallow and quick. Cal, here in my dad’s kitchen, after driving me through the night to check he’s okay. But then I think of Henry, and Ali, and her ultimatum. Cal tugs gently on my arm, and with his other hand reaches towards my face, pushing hair away from it, tucking it behind my ear. Those kind eyes of his could be my undoing. How he looks at me feels like a drug, like he wants to eat me and protect me and ravish me, all at once. This is real – whatever is between us. Cal’s thumb rubs across my lip, and I couldn’t stop the noise of pleasure that escapes from me even if I wanted to.

‘Do you ever think about that day, when we met?’ he says, and before I can answer he adds: ‘Because I do, Jessie. I think about it all the goddamn time.’

I nod.

‘Yes,’ I say, breathlessly. ‘I think about it all the time too, Cal.’

He leans in closer, happy with my reply, his fingers snaking under my hair at the back of my neck, grip preciseand firm. I could do this; I could surrender to this moment and pretend consequences don’t exist.

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