This is another crossroads moment. She could tell him about knowing Kit.Hey funny story but I met your sister and wanted to snog her face off and she sexily encouraged me to buy this book, which is like the pinnacle of wlw literature?
But he looks tired, and today has been enough of a revelation fest, she thinks.
‘Oh, I’m not sure. I just liked the cover.’
‘Fair enough,’ he says, slinging his pyjamas over his shoulder. ‘I’ll get changed in the bathroom.’
‘I can just shut my eyes.’
Christopher moves awkwardly.
‘You don’t trust me to not peek? I’m wounded!’
‘It’s not that. I’m just a bit... you know, shy about this stuff,’ he says, before brushing past this with, ‘And you would totally peek.’
‘I would. Go on then, off with you.’
‘I’m not a sheepdog,’ he mutters as he leaves the room.
He’s delicate, she thinks. It’s sweet. Not many men have ever showed their fears to her. Most men seem obsessed with projecting some kind of horrifying masculinity. Freddie certainly did, so intent that he never have an emotion that they ended up never really talking about anything that mattered.
Christopher must trust her a lot.
And it would probably freak him out to mention Kit and her flirting in the bookshop. He doesn’t need to know, it’ll just worry him.
Haf puts her phone on airplane mode under her pillow, and snuggles back down under the duvet, pulling it over her head again.
A few minutes later, she hears Christopher come into the room, and he slides under the covers, trying not to disturb them. He brings a wave of fresh cold air, and the bright smell of minty toothpaste.
‘Bloody hell,’ mutters Haf. ‘I’d just gotten it the right temperature under here.’
‘It’ll warm up in no time,’ he says, shivering, his head still above the blanket.
‘You can come all the way under, you know. It’s much warmer.’
‘I don’t want to intrude.’
‘It’s fine – I’m inviting you, aren’t I? It’s like a sleepover.’
He wriggles down under the cover. ‘Oh no, my feet are out.’
‘Long-people problems.’ Haf laughs as he rolls over and curls up into a little ball.
They’re face to face now, and if this was any other situation, any other person, maybe this would be almost romantic.
‘This feels very “there was only one bed”.’
‘Is that a thing?’
‘Yeah, a romance trope, but don’t worry. This is more like secret hideout planning time.’
‘In bed?’
‘A bed can be a hideout. A hidden base for planning and making confidential plans.’
He thinks about this for a moment. ‘All right. Do I have to tell you some secrets now?’
‘If you feel like it. Or you can ask me some. I feel like there’s a lot of gaps.’
