Page 101 of Power Play
“You mean I’ll remindyou,” she says, poking my chest. “You’ve left toothpaste in my sink every day this week.”
“You love it.”
“I loveyou.”
That’s all I need.
I drive home whistling, already phoning the agent back.
Let’s do this.
Later that night, Sophie shows up at mine with a bottle of cheap prosecco and a bag of frozen chips.
“We’re celebrating,” she says, breezing past me like she owns the place, which, technically, she kind of half does already. “And I want oven carbs. Don’t judge me.”
I raise my hands. “Wouldn’t dream of it. Kitchen’s yours.”
While the chips bake, we curl up on the sofa, both of us barefoot and in old hoodies. My telly’s on, muted, playing some wildlife documentary neither of us are watching. Her legs are tangled over mine, and I’ve got one hand resting on her thigh like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
“I can’t believe we actually found it,” she murmurs after a while.
“The place?”
She nods. “I thought we’d have to settle. I didn’t think we’d find something that worked for both of us. With all our weird little wish list items.”
“Hey, underground parking is avaliddream.”
She smirks. “So’s a kitchen that doesn’t smell like deep-fried failure.”
We fall into a comfortable silence. Her head rests on my shoulder, and I can feel the slow rhythm of her breathing, steady and calm. It’s stupid how much peace that gives me.
“I was scared, you know,” she says suddenly.
“Of moving in together?”
“Of wanting to.” She lifts her head to look at me. “It’s a big thing. And part of me kept thinking I’d mess it up. Or we’d get in eachother’s way. That maybe the thing we have only works because it’s got space around it.”
I tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Soph. If I had to pick one person to share a fridge with for the rest of my life, it’d be you.”
She blinks. “That might be the most romantic thing you’ve ever said.”
“Give it time. Wait till I label my leftovers.”
She laughs, bright and warm, and it fills the whole room.
“I want this,” she says softly, settling back against me. “All of it. With you.”
“Good,” I say, kissing the top of her head. “Because I already changed my address on FIFA.”
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
SOPHIE
There’s a box of old mugs on the passenger seat of my car and a suspicious rattle every time I brake, which I’m choosing to believe is the spirit of domestic responsibility whispering,you’re doing amazing, sweetie.
I’ve got half a dozen voicemails from my mum asking if Murphy’s “properly house-trained”, he’s not, one overly enthusiastic group chat message from my cousin who wants to do a full “moving in together” tarot reading; absolutely not. The flat isn’t even officially ours yet, but somehow, I already have a Pinterest board labelled ‘our ridiculously impractical but adorable life.’
Naturally, the first thing I do is drag my anxious, commitment-dodging arse to the one person who’s been putting up with my chaos for years; Mia.
