Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 115737 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 579(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115737 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 579(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
He halts mid-rummage and looks up at me with a cute smile. If he wasn’t so adorable, I’d still have an indignant look on my face, but instead I’m smiling too. ‘Is it sad that I can’t think of anything I’d rather do than veg out and eat crap with you?’
‘That sounded poetic,’ I laugh, kicking off my flip-flops.
He switches the bag to one hand before circling me and picking me up from behind with an arm curled around my waist. He carries me into the lounge. Or what was my lounge. Now it looks like it’s been set up for a glorified slumber party.
‘I got everything ready,’ Jack says, heading for the kitchen. ‘I’ll cook later. After we’ve watched a film.’
‘Okay,’ I agree, looking around. He’s dragged in all the pillows from my bedroom, along with the duvet, and pulled the throw and cushions down from the couch. My king-size bedcover is spread across the floor, the pillows propped up against the sofa and the cushions haphazardly spread around the sides. He’s drawn the curtains, making the room dusky and cosy, and turned the TV on, although the screen is paused. ‘Top Gun?’ I ask, bemused.
‘Shit, yeah.’ Jack comes back in from the kitchen with his Giant Strawbs, takes my hand and pulls me onto the covers. ‘Best film ever made.’ He starts to strip me until he has me down to my knickers. He wants jet planes and sweets.
I can do no more than let him do his thing and arrange me where he wants me, smiling the whole time. ‘Who did you want to be?’
‘Iceman,’ he answers immediately, not needing an elaboration on the question and not sensing the mockery in my tone. ‘You good?’ He sits back on his haunches and looks at me propped up cosily on the cushions in my knickers.
‘I’m good.’
‘Good.’ He grabs the remote, settles beside me and starts shoving jelly strawberries into his mouth.
I shake my head with a smile as I lift his arm and crawl into his side, getting snuggly. I’m not going to deny it. This is some seriously enjoyable stuff.
I watch Top Gun for the first time in twenty years, but my head’s not totally in it. I’m listening to Jack munch, feeling his chest compress and decompress and just generally relishing our closeness. It’s a novelty to just . . . be. Every so often, half a jelly strawberry blocks my view of the screen, and I open up and let Jack slip it into my mouth until I’m stuffed and have to push his hand away. ‘I won’t eat whatever you’re going to cook me.’ My eyes become heavy, my body naturally moulds into his side, until the last thing I remember is Maverick and Goose rocking out to ‘Great Balls of Fire’.
I’ve never felt so serene and comfortable. I’m somewhere between sleep and consciousness, Jack’s chest warm under my cheek, my leg sprawled across his thighs, my palm on his pec. His arm is curled around my waist, holding me to him, his chin resting on top of my head. In my sleepy wonderland, I note the film must have finished, because there’s silence except for Jack’s light breathing. Burrowing into his body some more, I sigh happily into the darkness, feeling him respond to my move, kissing the top of my head in his sleep. Then I’m drifting back off again.
The sharp jerk of his body beneath mine wakes me, then the soft sound of my name has my lids flickering and slowly peeling open. ‘Annie,’ Jack says again. I turn my face up to his, but he’s not looking at me. He’s looking across the room, and when I slowly crane my neck to find out what has his attention, all the warmth I’m feeling turns to ice. I push myself away from his body abruptly, ignoring my waking muscles that are screaming their protest, pulling painfully. There’s no time for me to consider giving them the slow moves they need, because though they’re not fully awake, my mind is. And so are my eyes, which are open wide and staring at Lizzy and Micky, who are standing at the entrance to my lounge.
Chapter 22
I clam up, looking away, ashamed. The disappointment on their faces is more than I can bear and only a smidgen of what I expect is to come. Their silence is excruciating.
Jack shifts next to me and I look at him. His face is serious, but I can see he’s desperately trying to feed me some reassurance. It’s in vain. ‘Do you want me to go?’ he asks quietly, instantly giving me something else to make my mind spin about.
I don’t know. Do I? Will Jack serve as a support, or will he fuel the situation? My face must tell him that I’m in a muddle over how best to approach this, because he reaches for my hand and squeezes.