No Control | Holding Me Ransom (Book 2)

45 - Don't Overthink, Just Let It Go

"Callie," I squeaked. "I thought you were Callie."

I felt suddenly breathless as I stared at him, my heart thundering against my rib cage.

"Nope. Just me," he shrugged. "Sorry to disappoint."

"You could never disappoint," I said, and then snapped my mouth shut again. Why had I lost my cool all of a sudden?

He smiled softly at me, still hovering in the doorway. I crossed my arms over my chest, feeling very self-conscious and acutely aware I was wearing a tight tshirt with no bra.

"What are you doing here?" I asked in a more level tone. "I thought you were..." In a posh hotel playing Scrabble with a shrill-sounding Victoria's Secret model wearing nothing but a dressing gown. "...busy this week," I finished, hoping my hesitation hadn't been too obvious.

He averted his eyes. "You said you'd had a bad day, and Mother Nature was being unkind to you. I thought maybe you'd appreciate some comforts."

He indicated awkwardly to the carrier bag in his left hand, and I looked down at it, and then back up to his face. He met my gaze for a moment, cleared his throat and then opened the bag.

"So, I stopped at Tesco Express and got you a Double Decker - " (he pulled it out of the bag and handed it to me) "some cherry ice cream - " (he handed me the tub) "and, uh, some girl supplies." (He pulled out a box of tampons and a packet of towels and held them out to me without looking at me.)

"Ohh," I said softly as I took them, completely blindsided by this unbelievably sweet gesture.

"I don't know which you, um, use, so I got both. I also got you this -" (he pulled a pink furry hot water bottle out of the bag, still with its label attached) "and I brought you one of my hoodies, since you said your favourite one was in the wash." (He produced a purple Jack Wills hoodie that I recognised from old photos of him from the X Factor days.) "It doesn't really fit me anymore, it's a bit small now," he explained, screwing the now empty carrier bag into a ball. "I thought it would probably fit you, though. You can keep it, if you want. Since, uh, my Green Bay one is no more."

I didn't know what to say. He had just levelled up, big time. My stomach was in knots at his mere presence, without even taking into account the effort he had gone to for me, and the amount of thought he'd put into this.

I looked up at him, at his perfect face, and wished with all my heart I could go back a few days and tell him how I felt. Before he got involved with some high-pitched, size-zero stick insect.

"Thank you," I said, softly. "I don't know what to say. This is the sweetest thing ever."

He shrugged. "It's nothing. You sounded really fed up on the phone, so I just thought it might cheer you up."

"How did you know I wanted a Double Decker?" I asked. "And cherry ice cream?"

"You told me they were your favourites, once," he said, shyly.

"Did I? When? I don't remember that."

"Maybe you don't, but I do," he smiled. "It was when we went out for dinner in LA, and you were mocking my accent."

"I often mock your accent," I teased.

"That is true," he acknowledged.

"That is true," I mimicked, and he frowned.

"I just brought you comfort in a carrier bag. You're not allowed to take the piss."

"You're not allowed to take the piss," I repeated slowly, adopting his frown as well as his accent, and he pressed his lips together and shook his head at me.