“You’ll be doing the lessons?” I’m not totally sold on making a complete tit of myself in front of someone who looks like they could feature on the front page of one of my Men’s Health magazines.
“Only me here; that a problem?”
“No! I mean, no, of course not. I was just checking. What time should I come back tomorrow?”
“Eleven work for you?”
“Yep. Sure. See you then.” I smile awkwardly, then wave for no good fucking reason at all. When I turn to leave, I abruptly face-plant into the closed door because, evidently, humiliating myself in front of insanely attractive men is my speciality. Now would be a great time for a black hole to appear and swallow me up.Thankfully, he’s polite enough to wait until I’ve made my exit before he bursts out laughing. Wonderful.
My phone alarm wakes me at half eight in the morning. I turn it off and open my messenger app. I texted Noah last night to check he was okay since he left to visit that local witches’ coven. No reply. Scrubbing a hand over my face, I rub the sleep from my eyes and drag myself out of bed for a piss.
Inspecting my reflection in the bathroom mirror, I scratch my cheeks, the coarse hair making them a little itchy; I really need a shave. But will Ethan think I shaved for him? Is that weird?
Why would Ethan give one iota of a fuck about whether you’ve shaved your dumb face?
I decide to leave the scruff. I’ll just trim it a little later.
The Air BnB I’m staying in this week is a nice change to motels and camping, plus it’s only a twenty-minute walk to the beach. I pad down the stairs, enjoying the feel of the thick pile carpet under my toes as I go in search of caffeine.
“Jesus fuckin’ christ! When did you get here?” I yelp, startled.
Noah peers up from where he was scrolling on his phone, sprawled out across the settee.
“Like an hour ago.”
“You’re like a creepy little ghost, walking through locked doors.”
“I’m a hungry little ghost; make me breakfast.”
“I haven’t bought any food yet. I was gonna go out for breakfast,” I reply.
“I stocked the fridge. I’m sick of diner food. I haven’t had a shit in two days.”
“That does explain why you’re so full of it.”
I head to the kitchen to inspect Noah’s wares. Honestly, I’m also pretty sick of diner food so this is probably for the best.
Grabbing the box of eggs, I whisk up eight and then dice up some mushrooms, peppers and onions.
“Where did you get this bread?” I ask, eyeing the wholemeal seeded loaf.
“Canada. All the American bread I’ve tried has been oddly sweet,” Noah replies with his nose scrunched up disapprovingly.
I pop the bread in the toaster and finish making the omelettes. When they’re almost ready, I add nearly an entire bag of spinach that wilts to practically nothing.
“Breakfast is served, your highness.” I give Noah the majority of the food; with all the hopping from place to place, he must be using a tonne of magic.
“Yesssss. Thanks mate. This is what I needed.” He licks his lips and then proceeds to inhale his breakfast. He’s such a pleasant dining companion.
“Are you staying now?”
“Nah. Heading out again after this and probably won’t be back for like five days or so? I’ll come find you when I’m done.”
“Did you, um…find? Did you find who you were lookin' for?” I ask, trying to tread carefully.
“What did I say about not talking to me about that?” He narrows his eyes at me, trying to appear stern, but he’s always been more bark than bite.
“You asked me not to at a time when I couldn’t physically reply. That was not me agreein'.”
