Page 97 of How We Began

“Oh. Yes, if you like.” Between us we were saying the word like way too much.

“I just asked if I could help.”

“Not out with your new super-duper very important new friends, then?”

He met this, let’s be honest, weird question with two raised eyebrows. “I have been at the library?” he said, asking almost a question himself.

“What? For four hours?”

Stalker alert!

“There were some journals that I found interesting.”

“Really? You found some journals interesting?” I raised myself on shaky legs and picked up the knife on the countertop.

“Yes, Lilah. What are you cooking, and do you want my help?”

I should’ve said ‘No’, but he was there all gorgeous in a grey T-shirt and dark denim.

“Spaghetti Bolognese,” I said with a sigh of resignation. “And yes, please.” Please came out a pathetic squeak.

“You made this much mess for spaghetti Bolognese?” Ben looked around, his eyes wide and his kissable lips parted in wonder.

“Look, Mr Perfect, we can’t all be blessed with amazing culinary skills.”

“Well, that’s true.” He held his hand out for the knife.

I could’ve fought it but, really, what would be the point? Instead, I handed over the knife and grabbed another glass to pour some wine for him—my one true culinary skill. His smirk said he had the same thought.

I hopped onto the counter, determined to at least watch what he was doing so I could remember for next time. Next time, when he’s not around to help me anymore, and is probably making spaghetti with some skinny blonde American clad only in black lacy underwear.

Unfortunately, I didn’t watch him cook at all. Total waste.

What I did do was stare at his low-slung jeans encasing his tight arse, and at his long fingers preparing the vegetables—without any blood loss. I also watched his mouth as he spoke, and I watched his smile and the blues when he turned to me, occasionally giving me his killer grin with crinkles.

I gobbled it all up.

Stored it in the memory bank forever and ever and ever.

So basically I learnt absolutely nothing about cooking spaghetti Bolognese. But I did learn that I am still an outrageous Ben Chambers stalker.

And I’m most definitely still completely in love with him.

Like I could be anything else.

Thankfully, Tristan and Meredith came home before we had to do the whole awkward sit down to eat together. Though I was slurring badly by the time we ate, the food was delicious, as was the company. It was a great evening, the four of us sitting there just laughing and giggling over our food and drink, much like we did before the whole underwear incident, and much like we did at Christmas, except Christmas had ended with us having amazing sex.

Last night ended with a hand squeeze in the hallway outside our doors.

A hand squeeze.

A frigging hand squeeze.

Now I’m stuck in my room, with yet another hangover whilst trying to avoid the annoyingly sexy boy from next door.

I’m proud of how far I’ve come in the last five months.

Not.