Page 55 of Not So Happily Ever After (British Bad Boys)
Chapter Sixteen
Mackenzie
I could get used to this.
The happy thought floats through my mind as I stand under the shower at Will’s. And then the full force hits me.
I’m not supposed to be getting used to this.
Another four days and I’m back to Uni, which means I have four days to get over this crazy obsession with him.
Unease skitters through me. By rights, I should already be getting over him. In other words, I shouldn’t still be happy to spend every free moment we have together.
Stop overthinking it.
Good advice. It’s only because we’re spending so much time together that I feel this way.
You do know that makes no logical sense, right?
Since nothing makes a lot of sense when it comes to Will, I ignore that thought. He’s gone to the local bakery to get us breakfast, and I’m just going to enjoy the rest of this week for what it is.
A holiday fling.
Once I’m dressed, I make my way to the kitchen. I remember when he bought this flat, a few months before we first slept together. Although it’s absolutely gorgeous, with high ceilings and all the original fireplaces and decorative cornices, I always thought it was too contained for him. I never even used to know what I meant by that, but after our weekend in Wales, I do.
Although the pod was a lot smaller than his flat, he just seemed so much more relaxed with the mountains and rivers around us. As though the London scene is just something he’s always done because that’s where he’s based. So weird I never guessed that about him before.
The front door opens, and excited flutters dance in my stomach as I go to meet him. Should I be so happy to see him again? He’s only been gone twenty minutes.
Sod it. I wrap my arms around him and give him a lingering kiss, as though it’s been a month since we were last together.
“Miss me?” His tone is mocking, but his smile makes up for it.
“Not even a little bit.” I sniff the delicious aroma of freshly baked chocolate croissants coming from the bag he’s holding. “It’s your food I’m after.”
“Do you want to have this in the garden?”
“Sure.” The big downside to his flat is it doesn’t have a balcony. But he does have access to the communal garden square opposite.
I grab my bag and loop my arm through his as we leave the flat and cross the road. The garden is deserted, thanks to it being midweek, and we find a park bench without any problem. There’s a chill in the air, a sure sign it’s autumn, despite the great weather we’ve had lately, but at least it’s dry and the sky is blue. I sip my takeaway chai, and with the birdsong floating in the breeze, it’s not hard to forget we’re in the middle of the city.
After we finish eating, Will leans back against the bench, his long legs stretched out, and eyes half closed. His arm is along the back of the bench, and his fingers lightly caress my shoulder.
And I can’t tear my gaze from his breathtaking profile. My fingers tingle, and not just because I want to glide them over his irresistible morning stubble.
I want to sketch him. Immortalize this moment.
You can’t do that.
Except for when I visit Hartley Court, the only times I draw are when I’m alone. When there’s no one around to judge or askare you still doing that?As though my art is something disposable, that I’d no longer want to do now I’m a medical student.
Just do it.Why shouldn’t I? I’ve shared more with him over the last few days than I have with anyone else. It’s no big deal if he sees me drawing. I even told him the other day this is just a hobby. And he knows I sketch the residents at Hartley. Why am I getting so worked up about it?
There’s no answer to that, so I pull one of my many notebooks from my bag, find a fresh page, and rest it against my knee. He turns his head ever so slightly, and I steel my nerves for whatever he’s about to say.
He doesn’t say anything. Just resumes his previous position, as though there’s nothing strange about what I’m doing.
Although he might not realize what I’m about to do. Maybe he just thinks I’m going to write a to-do list or something.
