She glared at him for a moment and then suddenly she was laughing too.
‘Come on,’ Cyrus said, still grinning, picking up the plate with the cupcakes and the water. ‘This I do remember.’
She followed him towards the door at the back of the store that opened into the stairwell. They went past Margaret’s office and up another flight. Cyrus pushed open the door to an attic room with skylights set into the flat roof. There were two sofas and a couple of bean bags, a stash of magazines piled messily in one corner, heaps of books – some with their spines bent back as if whoever was here had just been disturbed mid-way through reading a chapter.
‘What is this place?’
‘I used to hang out here when I was younger,’ Cyrus said, setting the cupcakes and the water down, ‘when my mum was working. You know, after school.’
Evie stood in the centre of the room and looked around.
‘Did you bring girls here?’
‘Why are you so interested?’ Cyrus asked, flashing her an amused look.
She glanced away hastily and bent down to read the spine of one of the open books. Tolstoy. She found herself smiling despite herself.
‘I don’t think I did bring any girls though.’
Evie glanced up.
Cyrus waved a tattered copy of Hustler magazine in her face. ‘Judging from my magazine collection, I think this was a male-only space.’ He dropped it back down onto the pile.
‘Well, I guess I’m honoured then,’ Evie said.
Cyrus straightened the patchwork blanket draped over the back of one of the sofas and pointed at it. ‘You should sit down.’
Evie considered the sofa. It looked way more inviting than a hospital bed. She had a sudden urge to lie down and let him wrap her up in the blanket. And, as if he had read her mind, that’s exactly what he did. As soon as she’d sat down, he lifted her legs and gently laid them out, pulling the blanket up to her waist and tucking it in.
‘Thanks,’ she mumbled.
He was crouched awkwardly beside her head, his hand still resting on her waist where he’d pulled the blanket up. She noted the golden stubble across his jaw, the fullness of his bottom lip and the streak of dried blood, probably hers, just under his chin.
‘Do you need anything?’ he asked.
She paused, chewing the inside of her cheek. She didn’t want him to go. But she didn’t want to give him the wrong idea either. She liked him being near to her. That was all.
‘Can you stay?’ she asked, swallowing nervously. Her heart had started to beat more rapidly. She could feel the pulse of it in her neck, making her stitches stretch and sting. ‘I mean … I just …’
He smiled. ‘I’ll stay. I’m not going anywhere. Here, lift up.’
She frowned, then realised what he was doing and lifted her head off the cushion so that he could slide onto the sofa. She lowered her head onto his lap and felt his arm come down, his hand resting lightly on her hip. There was a moment of pure awkwardness where she could feel him tense, could feel her own breath stuck in her throat and then he placed his other hand gently on her head and started stroking her hair. She closed her eyes and felt the sigh rush out of her.
It felt good, lying here. It felt like peace, with his fingers pressing warmth back into her body. She felt herself sinking into the sofa even as the butterflies in her stomach started to test their wings.
With her eyes half-closed, she could almost imagine it was Lucas who was holding her, stroking her hair. At the thought she felt something stir deep inside her, something she’d not felt in months – a hunger that sent the butterflies into a flurry. If she lay really still and tried not to breathe she could pretend it was Lucas’s hand moving slowly up her hip and now caressing her waist, softly, very softly.
She made a noise, a low moan escaping from her lips before she could stop it. Cyrus paused, his hand instantly stilling. Evie’s eyes flew open and then, before she knew what was happening, she was on her knees facing Cyrus, his lips an inch from her own. He had stopped breathing, was staring at her, watching her carefully. She shut her eyes, then leant forward and kissed him, feeling the heat of his lips, the softness of them as he kissed her back,