Page 28 of Always Be My Pumpkin

I spot a note on the coffee table, with a sketch of me stuffing my face with a giant slice of pizza, and instructions to pick out a movie and make sure it’s soppy. I smile as I throw myself on the couch, tuck my legs underneath me, and start flicking through options. I keep looping back to Friends with Benefits and How to Lose a Guy in Ten Days.

Not sure why those two are popping out at me, maybe it’s what Flynn said about Meghan and how friends with benefits never works. And I guess I’m hoping for tips from How to Lose a Guy on ways to get Jamie off my case. Although neither of those movies ends with the outcome I’m hoping for. I don’t want Flynn flying back to the States to set up a flashmob for Meghan. And I don’t want me and Jamie singing to each other at the Corner Bar, even if that song ‘You’re So Vain’ does fit him perfectly, because he really is.

Flynn empties a carrier bag of supplies into the fridge when he gets back, then makes straight for the spot beside me on the couch. He’s wearing grey trackpants and an oversized blue hoodie. As he pulls off his trainers and socks, even his feet smell citrusy and fresh, like he’s bathed them in lemon water, which I guess he sort of did. He had a shower before me and the bathroom smelled like a lush Mediterranean garden. I was tempted to steal that fancy verbena gel for myself.

He opens two pizza boxes on the coffee table, and I lean forward and sigh dreamily as I inhale the warm herby smell. When I look up again, he’s got one arm propped on the back of the couch, face resting against his palm, staring at me with a big soppy grin.

‘I love how food makes you so happy.’

I roll my eyes and reach for a slice. ‘Flynn, this is not just food, this is Toni’s award-winning rocket and mozzarella.’ I take a bite and let out a soft purr as I chew, and Flynn shakes his head fondly. I keep going, mouth half full as I point to the second pizza. ‘And people travel from all over for her smoky barbecued chicken, so you’d better show your appreciation.’ I tug at his chin. ‘I want to hear at least one really good moan.’

He laughs and tears off half a slice, then leans back and makes obscene grunting noises as he shoves the lot into his mouth and starts chewing.

‘Are they your best fake orgasm noises?’ I snort. ‘Because I pity the poor woman who ends up with you if that’s what she has to listen to every night.’

He yanks my legs from underneath me while he’s still chewing and then pulls until I’m lying on my back with my calves draped over his lap, and in a flash, he’s leaning over me, tickling my waist, and I squeal. Then he stops just as abruptly, looking like he’s not sure what just happened, or why he did that. And his eyes settle on mine. And my heart skips a beat.

He leans back slowly, lifts my legs off his lap. And my stomach sinks. Flynn and I were always physical, both big huggers, or linking arms, and we always used to be so comfortable with each other. Sixteen-year-old Flynn wouldn’t have thought twice about tickling me, and I hate that there’s this awkwardness between us now, as though neither of us is sure what’s allowed.

I sit up straight and nudge his thigh with my foot. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.’ I tilt my head and smile because it’s easier to pretend that’s what this awkward moment is about, just my silly teasing, not the touching, and tickling, and heavy looks. Thankfully, he smiles back.

Then he arches his brow and puts on his best deep, offended voice. ‘I don’t make fake orgasm noises, Sullivan. And neither do my women. They don’t need to.’

I almost choke on a tiny morsel of mozzarella as I scoff in his face. ‘Your women? How many women do you have?’ I jerk my head to look over his shoulder and scan my eyes around the room. ‘And where exactly are you hiding them all?’

His eyes crinkle, and my mouth shoots before my brain gets a chance to shut it down, ‘Oh, I know. In your dreams.’ I let out a giggle. ‘Yeah, I definitely heard you moan in your sleep the other night and I don’t think you were dreaming about pizza.’

Flynn swallows and colour creeps up his face. He looks embarrassed and I want to kick myself. We’re back to awkward again. But part of me feels confused. Have I really crossed some imaginary line? I know it’s not ideal sleeping on the couch, and he has absolutely no privacy. And I guess it’s not completely appropriate that I sometimes tiptoe down for a glass of water and stay an extra minute to watch him breathe. He looks so sweet.

And it’s not my fault he sleeps with no top on and kicks off the covers, or that he trains so hard, and I can’t stop picturing him doing those push-ups. With me underneath.

‘I’m sorry. Flynn, I’m sorry.’ I lean forward and grab hold of his upper arm. ‘I’m just kidding, I’ve never heard you moan.’ I lean in closer. ‘But even if I did (I totally did) what would it matter?’ I chance a smile as I squeeze his arm. ‘We’re friends, aren’t we? What’s a little moaning between friends?’

He swats my hand away lightly with his fingertips. ‘Behave. Or I’ll make you sleep on the couch, and I’ll take that enormous comfy bed for myself.’

‘You should, you know,’ I say, all joking aside. ‘It’s not fair you have to sleep down here. It’s your house and I’m way smaller than you.’

He shakes his head. ‘No way, you need your privacy. Maybe I’ll get an airbed.’ He rolls his shoulders, and it occurs to me now that I’ve caught him doing that before. And rubbing his lower back when he thought I wasn’t looking, even though he hasn’t once complained.

I flop against the armrest. ‘Nope. That’ll be even less comfortable. We’re swapping.’ I cross my arms. ‘I’m not the one who needs privacy.’ I grin. ‘At least I can keep my top on.’

And my bottoms. But I don’t mention that his cover was on the floor and he was stretched out in his boxers when I came down for water last night.

His eyes widen.

‘I was thirsty. I forgot to bring a drink up.’

He swallows. ‘Sorry, I can’t sleep if it’s too warm.’

‘It’s no big deal.’ I squeeze my eyes shut. ‘I barely saw anything. You’d be wearing less on a beach.’ I shrug. ‘But it would be less of a deal if I slept down here instead.’

Flynn shakes his head with a smile as he reaches for another slice of pizza.

‘I’m not arguing with you, Sullivan, but you are not sleeping on this saggy couch when there’s a comfy king-size bed upstairs.’ He grins. ‘With a daisy print duvet that is definitely more your style than mine.’

I scoff as I point to the dusky pink couch, then the soft blue throw he shrugs off every night.

He stifles a grin. ‘Still not happening. Now, tell me what we’re watching. Oh wait, hold on.’ He reaches down to the shelf underneath the coffee table and produces a box of jumbo-sized tissues. ‘Better make sure we’re ready before the flood starts.’