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Euan smiles at me. The skin around his eyes crinkles beautifully, his blue irises appearing lighter and brighter in the afternoon sunlight. He is so damned gorgeous, and he’s staring right into my eyes, and I’m falling for him all over again. I am doomed.

“Thanks, Cam.”

Cam. It’s only the second time he’s called me by my nickname. The first time was while I was buried deep inside him. My knees sag. I’m swooning like the women in my favourite black-and-white movies.

“Did you have fun making cakes?” Elliott asks.

My cheeks flush with heat. I rub the back of my neck. “Uh, yeah. It was fun.” I catch Euan’s eye again, even though I shouldn’t.

He blushes too.

“Did you get your marking done?” Peter asks him.

Euan clears his throat. “Cupcake-making took longer than we anticipated.”

The boys glance at each other, smirking. Elliott pats Peter on the arm, and they run ahead, whispering to each other.

“What’s that about?” I ask Euan.

“No clue. They’re probably plotting something.”

“Yeah, but what?”

He shrugs. “Hopefully, we won’t ever find out.”

“Euan—”

Elliott stops and waves to us. “Hurry up! We want to see the cupcakes.”

I sigh and pick up the pace. Now isn’t the right time to talk to Euan anyway. The boys could overhear. The trouble is, we’re unlikely to get a moment alone anytime soon. I guess that’s it, then. One and done. I should be grateful I got to have him at all. Iamgrateful. It was amazing. But our encounter hasn’t done anything to work my crush on him out of my system. If anything, I want him more. Is there a chance he might want me too? Not for another one-off. Truly want to be with me. If he did, I’d want to be open and honest about it. I wouldn’t want to pretend I’m not crazy about him.

Peter unlocks the door to his house. The boys dump their belongings by the door and dash into the kitchen. Out of habit, I pick up their things and hang them up, even though it’s not my house.

“You didn’t need to do that. We should have called them back to do it,” Euan says.

“It’s fine. I don’t mind.”

We follow the boys into the kitchen, where they’re scrutinising the cupcakes.

“They look good,” Euan whispers.

It’s the first time he’s seen them decorated because we stayed in bed together until the last possible second. More orgasms were had. I was correct: he has an excellent hand technique.

“Why are there only twenty-two?” Elliott asks.

“We had to taste-test them,” I reply.

I’ll never forget how the icing crumbled onto Euan’s beard and lips or the taste of cake and icing on his tongue as I kissed him. I shouldn’t be thinking about it right now. I do not want to get a hard-on in front of my ten-year-old brother and his best friend. Think unsexy thoughts. Think unsexy thoughts.

“They look great,” Peter says.

“You can tell they’re not shop-bought. You know what this means, don’t you?” Elliott asks.

I shake my head.

“You’ve got no excuse to make cupcakes next time.”

“Next time? What next time?”