Just for the summer.
And then he’ll go back to London in a few months, and then I’ll have to face another year—or however long—without seeing him again.
And what if I never see him again? What if he prefers his life there, decides to stay in London, meets someone, and—
“Ugh.” The thought makes me groan.
I kick the covers off, swinging my feet over the edge of the bed. I can’t do this. I can’t sit here all night, thinking about what-ifs.
“I need some food,” I murmur to myself, slipping out of bed and into the darkness. Without bothering to turn on the light, I head for the door, cracking it open.
The bright light from the kitchen floods my face, making me squint. Blinking to adjust, I see Chris, rummaging through the cabinets.
Chris twists his head at the sound of my door opening. “Oh shit,” he says, quickly closing the cabinet. “Did I wake you? I’mso—” His words trail off, his mouth falling open as his eyes widen, scanning down my body. “Fuck. I, uh…”
I glance down, suddenly aware that I’m only wearing a t-shirt and panties. “Shit.” I turn, and head back into my room, grabbing a pair of sweatpants and pulling them on. “Sorry for the strip show,” I joke, trying to lighten the mood.
“No, it’s… uh, fine. It’s your apartment,” he stutters, still looking flustered.
“It’s yours too,” I point out, stepping out of my bedroom, now more decent. “At least for the next two months.”
“Right.” The muscle in his jaw ticks. “I hope I didn’t wake you up.”
I shake my head, leaning against the kitchen island. “I couldn’t sleep.”
“Me either,” he says, a smile curling his lips. Chris’s smile is my favorite thing in the world. “Jet lag.”
I tilt my head. “Why is that funny?”
He shakes his head. “I used to make that excuse all the time in London. Now it’s actually true.”
My smile fades a little. He has a whole life away from me, with people who aren’t me.
“I was just looking for some cereal,” he says, gesturing with his thumb behind him. “Do you have any?”
My lips twitch. At least that hasn’t changed. “You still eat cereal as a midnight snack?”
He nods, raking a hand through his curly hair. “Nothing better, in my opinion.”
“I can think of something better,” I tell him, flicking my hair behind my shoulder, a playful glint in my eyes.
“Yeah?” he asks, his gaze tracking my movements before his lips turn up in a smirk. “What?”
“Pancakes.”
He lets out a soft laugh, and it eases my heart to hear it. I haven’t heard that in person for such a long time. “Now?”
I flutter my eyelashes innocently at him, a playful smile dancing on my lips. “You always made the best ones,” I tease, my tone lighthearted. “And I’m craving them so bad.”
He flashes me a smile, his eyes twinkling with amusement, and opens the cabinets again. “Where are your mixing bowls?”
“Wait. Seriously?” I chuckle.
“You want pancakes, right?” he asks, arching a brow.
I was only joking about him making me pancakes. I wanted to remind him of all the amazing times we had together, but if I’m honest, I don’t think I’ve had pancakes since senior year of high school, when Chris made them for me last. “Well, yeah, but—”
“Then we’re making pancakes.” He grabs a bowl from my cabinets and opens another. “Do you even have the ingredients?”
