Curiosity burned within me, but I held my tongue.
Tom came to a stop in front of our door and I hurried to catch up to him. He glanced back at me, phone slightly raised. “Mum says dinner is on her and Dad. We can use her credit card for it.” He smiled, and I felt an immediate surge of relief.
Not that it mattered. He might still be single, but that didn’t mean he was any more interested than he had been before.
With a sigh, I trudged inside after him.
Then came to an immediate stop.
For a twin room, I’d expected two beds of the same size. Fair assumption, right?
Nope.
There was one huge king-size bed and one tiny little single. Fuck. My feet were going to dangle over the edge. I rolled my case over to the bed, hefted it on top, then plopped down next to it.
Tom stood in the middle of the room, frowning.
“What’s up?” I winced at my loaded question and hoped he didn’t decide to have our talk now. I need alcohol in me first.
With a wry smile, he gestured between the two beds. “Bit of a difference in size.”
I resisted the urge to make a smutty comment. We certainly weren’t there yet. “It’s fine. You’ve paid, after all.”
He wrinkled his nose. I’d always secretly found it cute.
“But yours is so small compared to mine.”
I couldn’t resist a snort at that.
“Oh fuck off, you know what I mean.” He grinned at me, our gazes locking, and just like that I was transported back to that night.
When I’d pressed him up against that wall, it’d been fairly evident we were evenly matched in size. My cock remembered all too well, and I coughed suddenly and stood. “Just need a piss.” Scurrying off to the bathroom wasn’t my most subtle move ever, but I couldn’t stand in front of him sporting a semi.
Once inside, I used the loo anyway. Might as well since I was already in there.
After splashing my face with cold water, I stared at my reflection.
What the fuck are you doing, Jared?
I’d like to deny it, but I’d been secretly hoping he’d offer to share that huge king-size.
With a resigned sigh, I shook my head and closed my eyes for a moment.
Never going to happen.
Friends.
That’s what you need to work on now.
But then I remembered the messages he’d sent me. With the excitement of nearly dying on the M42, I’d forgotten all about them.
He’d liked the kiss. He’d said that, hadn’t he? I reached for my phone to double-check, cursing when I remembered I’d left it on the bed.
Tom was right, we needed to talk.
With slightly sweaty palms and a racing pulse, I opened the bathroom door and stepped out into the room.
Tom sat on the bed, hands clasped in his lap. He’d changed his T-shirt, and I silently cursed for missing out on that. “Um . . .” Feeling suddenly shy, which was ridiculous, I shuffled past him and sat on my bed.
An awkward silence settled between us.
I had the words right there on the tip of my tongue, but they wouldn’t come. Scrubbing a hand over my face, I heaved out a heavy sigh.
Fuck.
Why was this so hard?
“Shall we go get that drink?”
I looked up to find Tom staring at me, his expression guarded. Maybe he was as nervous as me? Whatever, a little alcohol seemed like a fine idea. With any luck, it would loosen my tongue so we could get this out of the way. “Yeah, sounds good.”
We left the room in silence, and it stayed like that as we made our way outside.
“Oh wow.” The snow had eased off a bit, but a thick layer of white covered the whole car park. We couldn’t have been inside for more than forty minutes tops, but Tom’s car was covered enough that I couldn’t easily pick it out. Small flakes clung to my eyelashes and I laughed as I blinked them away and glanced over at Tom.
Which proved to be a terrible idea.
My breath caught in my throat.
He stood, head tilted towards the sky, eyes closed, snowflakes landing on his face. The outside lights of the pub lit him up, and I took a moment to watch him unnoticed. Stubble coated his strong jaw, like he’d not shaved for a couple of days.
It’d been like that when I’d kissed him: a little rough against my lips. I liked it best that way.
A flake landed on his mouth, and I had to look away hurriedly when he flicked at it with his tongue. “We going in or what?”
He flashed me a curious look but stepped towards the doors and opened them.
A welcome warmth hit us like a wall as we went in, and thank god, because it was bloody freezing outside. I shivered, stamped my feet to get rid of the snow, and took a good look around. “Oh.”
I was a huge fan of Christmas, don’t get me wrong, but sometimes places went over the top with their gaudy decorations. But not this pub.
Two small trees decorated with soft white fairy lights sat on either side of the double doors. The same warm-white lights hung across the bar, along with a long dark-green wreath. A full-sized Christmas tree stood in the corner, tastefully adorned with red and green ornaments. Miniature holly wreaths were dotted about the pub, along with springs of mistletoe.
A quick glance upwards told me we were, in fact, stood under some.
Since our table wouldn’t be ready for a while, I nudged Tom towards the bar before he noticed what was above us. There was only so much awkward I could handle in an evening.
Perched on the end two stools at the bar, we ordered a couple of pints, and then . . . silence. Was he expecting me to start this talk? I blew out a breath, wondering what to open with, when the barmen set our drinks down.
Tom picked his up and took a long swig. “Christ, I needed that.”
Taking my cue from him, I did the same. Despite the biting cold outside, I was already pleasantly warm in the pub, and the cool beer was a welcome relief to both my parched throat and frayed nerves. “Yeah. Not gonna lie, I was pretty fucking terrified at the end there.” I shuddered just thinking about it. I hated driving in snow, and being a passenger was even worse.
“Same,” Tom murmured between sips.
I snorted. “I’m glad you didn’t say that when we were driving.”
He turned to face me, grinning. “Didn’t think it’d go down too well.”
“Thanks, though.” I know I’d already thanked him before, but I felt the need to say it again. “For getting us here in one piece. And you know . . . paying.” It might technically be his parents paying, but whatever.
He lifted his glass in a silent cheers, and I clinked mine against it. His expression morphed into one I recognised—serious, intent—and I knew what was coming. With a sigh, he ran a finger along the rim of his glass. “You read the texts?”
I swallowed past the sudden lump in my throat. “Yeah.”
“All of them?”
“Yep.” I popped the p without meaning to, and it sounded way too loud.
He narrowed his eyes when I didn’t elaborate. “And?”
Fuck. Where to start?
“You said you liked it.” There, apparently. No beating about the bush with me tonight.
“I did.” Another sigh. I’d lost count by this point. “I didn’t think that was ever in question.”
“But—”
“You were there that night. You remember it?”