Page 40 of Love, Academically

Limerence (noun) lim·er·ance

Lila

Rhys woke her up in the early hours of the morning for slow, sleepy, warm sex, and again at nine for more. He was insatiable and she loved it.

Jason had always been perfunctory and as regular as clockwork. Well, it made sense, because he was getting his kicks elsewhere with Leanne and probably a whole host of other women throughout their relationship. But she didn’t care.

Rhys made her feel desired, beautiful and needed and that’s exactly how she wanted to feel after a night of sex. Because that’s what it was. A night of sex. Otherwise, her heart couldn’t take it. They were friends, yes. Friends who’d had sex one night.

“Lila, would you like to go out for breakfast?” Rhys asked, kissing the groove of her collarbone.

“Sure, where do you want to go?” she asked, absently pulling her fingers through his hair.

“Where do you like?”

“Um,” she said, crinkling her nose. “Don’t know. Where do you like?”

“There is an amazing brunch place called Crwst in Cardigan, West Wales, but a four- and-a-half-hour drive is a little far for bacon.” He looked at her pointedly. “So, where do you like?”

There was a beautiful little French-style cafe on the other side of town.

It served the most delicious patisseries, the sweetest hot chocolate she had ever tasted, and she felt like Audrey Hepburn any time she stepped into it.

But it was too sappy for Jason, too chintzy and quaint for Jasmeet, and didn’t have enough space for Maddy’s buggy.

There was only so many times she could go there by herself before the staff started giving her pity macaroons.

Rhys would hate it. It was full of stuff, colourful and bright, and the tables were close together and small.

“Let’s go there,” he said, decisively.

“But I didn’t say anywhere.”

“You were thinking it.”

How did he know her so well? Yes, she had been thinking of a pain au chocolat and an almond croissant. And possibly the sweetest raspberry tart to finish.

“No, it’s okay,” she said. “You won’t like it.”

“Maybe I will, maybe I won’t.” Rhys raised an eyebrow at her. “But you will.”

Lila’s heart swelled as he kissed her cheek and scrambled out of bed.

“Do you mind if I have a shower?”

“Of course, help yourself,” she said. “Towels are in the cupboard.”

She watched the muscles of his bum move as he headed out of the door.

He threw a wink over his shoulder at her.

Rhys was so different from the first time he had accidentally on purpose slept over.

He had been so bristly, so awkward, hiding his body.

Now, it was as if a switch had been flipped in him.

Once they’d done all the things that they were supposed to do – going on a date, holding hands, leaving her on the doorstep, having sex all night – he was relaxed and calm and downright hot.

She enjoyed Relaxed Rhys. Enjoyed him a lot.

As much as she told herself she didn’t want a relationship, she did want someone to wake up with, to go to French brunch places with her, to sit with through Susie Dent.

She liked being excited when Rhys texted her.

She liked telling him random things and him enjoying hearing her talk.

She liked learning about Henry II and Welsh words.

Lila liked caring for people and prickly, soft-centred Rhys, needed caring for.

Would a relationship with Rhys be the worst thing in the world?

Perhaps not. Perhaps it was exactly what she wanted, what she needed.

But she wasn’t even sure if he wanted a relationship and that was certainly not a conversation she was going to broach, because how awkward would that be?

Oh sorry, going for brunch was actually just a way of saying thanks for the great sex, see you at work.

And then she would have to see him at work, knowing that he had rejected her after literally shagging all coherent thoughts out of her head.

So no, she would not be bringing up that conversation. If he did, she could be breezy and bright and oh yeah, sure, I’m happy with a one-night thing, that’s fine. See you at work, bestie!

Her face fell at the thought. Nope. She was one hundred percent not happy with a one-night thing. She didn’t want to go back to just being friends and seeing him at work. Yep, she wanted Rhys for more than one night and for more than his excellent tongue and dick.

She was in real trouble with this beautiful man who cared about what she thought and cared about what she wanted.

She wanted Rhys as a boyfriend.

Oh fuck.

Rhys

Well, the coffee wasn’t bad, and neither was the plain croissant he had, but the pastel-coloured chairs were uncomfortable and the little round table was too small for his coffee, two plates of pastries and Lila’s teacup and teapot (obviously).

She was remarkably pretty in a clingy flamingo-print dress, and bee-stung pink lips. He was so lucky to be here with her.

Mostly, though, she looked thoroughly delighted that they were in this tiny cafe with overpriced bottled water.

“This is my most favourite place. This pain au chocolat is beautiful,” she said, a crumb dropping from her lips.

Rhys reached across the tiny table and linked his fingers with hers.

She glanced at their intertwined fingers and a frown flashed across her face.

Was she embarrassed? Did she not want people to know they were together?

Were they together? Usually, that conversation would have to be after date five, but everything was so topsy-turvy with Lila that perhaps it was a conversation to be had now.

When they first started their agreement, she mentioned that she had sworn off all men.

Perhaps that was still true. But perhaps, just perhaps, he had done enough that she wanted him in her life. Proved that he cared.

Hopefully.

Besides, he wasn’t ready to go home.

“Lila,” he started, unlinking their hands and dabbing his mouth with a napkin. She sighed, her shoulders dropping, but plastered a kind smile on her face.

“Rhys.”

“Can I spend the day with you? Do you have other plans?”

Lila blinked in surprise.

“Because if you have other plans, then don’t worry.”

“No, I just thought,” she hesitated, some internal debate going on inside her. “I thought you’d want to go.”

Rhys watched Lila tear apart the remnants of her pain au chocolat.

“Want to go? No. Lila,” he said, reaching across and tipping her chin up so she was looking at him. His heart stuttered. She was vulnerable and worried, a small crease in between her eyebrows that he’d never seen before.

“Lila, I would like to spend the day with you. I’d like to spend every day with you.

I would very much like to have a relationship with you, call you my girlfriend, but I know you’ve sworn off men.

You can call us whatever you’d like, but I would like to be in your life, as more than a friend.

” He dropped his hand to his coffee cup.

“But only if you want to. I don’t want you to do something just because you think it will make someone else happy. ”

Well, it was not the most flowery of speeches, but it did the job.

Accurately conveyed his feelings. What he hadn’t banked on was the pounding of his heart against his ribs, the dryness of his mouth, the nearly imperceptible tremor in his hand as he sipped his coffee.

He was fucking nervous about what she would say.

What if she said, thanks for the dick, see you at work?

Then that was that, he would see her at work and be whatever she wanted him to be.

Just a work colleague, if that’s what she wanted.

He wouldn’t pretend to himself that he wouldn’t be hurt. Because he would be terribly hurt. But that was something to deal with if or when the time came.

“You want to be in a relationship? With me?” She was pretty incredulous.

“Yes,” he answered. “That’s exactly what I want.”

Another sip of coffee and a non-threatening smile.

“You don’t have to answer me now,” he said, placing his coffee down on the table. “We can spend the day together, or if you feel you need some time to yourself, I’ll go home.”

Rhys watched Lila’s throat bob in a swallow and clenched his fist under the table. He was not ready to say goodbye just yet. Not at all.

“Um.” Her tongue stroked across her bottom lip. “I, uh—”

“I’ll tell you what, Lila,” he said, kindly. “I’ll go home. You have a think about what’s best for you. Call me when you want to.”

Lila adjusted her teacup, the clattering against the saucer betraying her nerves.

“Why do you always make things my choice?” she blurted.

Rhys’s head tilted and he frowned.

“Because it is,” he said simply. “It’s up to you who you spend time with, who you’re in a relationship with and I don’t want to take away any decision from you.”

“Oh.” She focused on her torn-up pain au chocolat.

“I think that you’re so busy trying to please everyone that you don’t do what you want to do, things that make you happy. And I like seeing you happy.”

Her eyes flicked to his.

“You like seeing me happy?” Her voice was small, tentative.

“Yes.” He grinned, because that was an easy question. “I like the way your eyes sparkle when you’re surprised. I like your satisfied smile when you taste a particularly good cookie. I like your grin when Richard Gere does something stupidly romantic.”

“You do?”

“Yes, I do.” he said firmly. “But—”

Lila’s shoulders sank, but he pushed on.

“But, I don’t want you to think about me. I want you to think about you. Whether you want this. Whether you don’t want this. This is entirely your decision and I will be happy that you’ve made it for yourself.”

Inside, he was screaming Pick me! Pick me! but everything he said was true. It was her decision and he would not take that away from her. He was worried that if he didn’t give her that specific choice, she’d go with the flow because it was what he wanted, which is precisely what he didn’t want.