Page 114 of Cream & Sugar

So why is a knot forming in my stomach?

“I meant every word, you know,” I say without planning to. When Shaun looks confused, I clarify: “What I said the other day after Rory left.”

Realisation dawns upon his face, which blossoms into a smile that would melt an iceberg. “I know. I believe you.”

The knot tightens. It feels just like the one that appeared when Rory told me about the burglary.

“You okay?” Shaun asks, gently rubbing my lower back.

“Yeah. I think so.” I tilt my head up to look at him. “Listen, I want to be yours, Shaun. I really, really do, but I have to check… I mean, I have totellyou…”

My heart’s skidding all over the place. I’m feeling so nervous all of a sudden. What the hell is going on? Freddie Young doesn’t get nervous!

“I want to be your boyfriend,” I continue, “but only if it isn't going to ruin your dream. I don’t want things to turn sour if we don’t work out—not that I think that’ll happen, but you never know, do you? So, if you’d rather not risk it, if you think mixing business with pleasure isn’t a good idea, then I’ll understand and I’ll leave. I’d rather have you than this job, even though I really like both. I just don’t want you to compromise your dream for me—”

“Please don’t.” Shaun interrupts me, firmly. “Freddie, you have nothing to worry about. You make this place so much better. You makemebetter. Don’t even think about leaving. I’d never ask youto, not unless you wanted, and I wouldn’t stand in your way, but I want you to keep working here as long as you like.”

His arm curls around me in a reassuring embrace. I sigh as the knot in my stomach loosens and evaporates.

“Really? Oh man, that’s a relief.” I try to backpedal. “Sorry, it’s just you’ve worked so hard on this place, so I didn’t want to—”

Shaun shushes me and interlocks his hands across my lower back. He pulls me in tighter and says in a soft voice: “I have two dreams now. Lucky for me, they’re both under the same roof.”

My heart skips as a strange feeling comes over me. Like I could walk through fire. Like I could fight off an army. Before I can stop them, my lips are moving. “Okay. Can I say something else then?”

“Of course.”

Shaun gives me a knowing look, but I see the nervousness behind his eyes, feel his heart slamming against his ribcage. I steel myself and whisper, “I think I’m falling for you, Shaun Harrison. I think I’m falling hard.”

He blinks. Once, twice, then he exhales slowly.

“Okay,” he says after the longest seconds of my life. “That’s good, then.” He plants a gentle kiss on my forehead. “Because IknowI’m falling for you, Freddie Young.”

Smiling like a lunatic, I press my lips against his and, like warm caramel, we melt into the floor.

It’s gone midnight by the time I get home. To my surprise, Rory is still up, watching something on his phone.

“Hey,” I call, shutting the door behind me. “Did you wait up?”

Ignoring my question, Rory holds his phone aloft, pointing the screen towards me. “‘The singing barista’?”

Taking a few steps towards him, I see what he’s looking at: a post on the Cream & Sugar Instagram page, advertising my upcoming gig. Someone, I assume Anna, has captured a still from the viral video, cropped out everything but me, and stylised it with a black and white filter. It has hundreds of likes. I look pretty hot.

“I told them not to call me that,” I gently shove his phone arm away. “It’s just a little thing. A gig. It was Anna’s idea.”

“Anna?”

“The supervisor.”

“Right.”

I can tell he doesn’t believe me. He probably thinks I begged them to let me play, which isn’t true at all. The truth is I hijacked a child’s toy keyboard and forced a concert on the non-consenting public. Which is completely different.

Rory’s taking up the length of the sofa. There are three cans of the weird non-alcoholic protein beer he drinks crushed up on the coffee table behind him. A dirty Tupperware lies on the counter, unwashed. Red flag. Roryhatesmess. It’s why he can’t stand living with me.

“Have you been sitting on your phone all evening?” I ask, tentatively.

Rory waves an arm around the stark, empty room. “Not much else to do, is there?”