Page 141 of In at the Deep End

Work.

Write.

Sleep.

Repeat.

Except it wasn’t working.

Every paragraph reminded him of Owen.

He caught himself typing Owen’s name instead of the academic he was quoting.

He smiled at memories of things Owen had said.

He found himself wondering whether Owen had remembered to water the new plants near the pergola.

His phone lay within reach. More than one evening during this week he’d picked it up. Opened Owen’s contact.

And every time he’d put it down again.

Don’t.

The hardest part wasn’t staying away. It was pretending he wanted to.

Leaving at five each afternoon had become an act of will. Every evening he caught the same faint flicker of surprise in Owen’s eyes before Owen smiled and wished him a good night.

Matt hated himself for that.

He wasn’t trying to push Owen away. He was trying to stop himself wanting more than Owen could ever give. And if he kept lingering, kept accepting another coffee, kept finding excuses to spend another hour with Owen…

He wasn’t sure he’d ever leave.

Matt stared at the blinking cursor. He hadn’t written a word in nearly ten minutes.

“Damn it.”

He looked out of the conservatory window, and his gaze drifted, almost of its own accord, towards Owen’s house.

Then he caught himself.

This isn’t helping.

He turned back to the screen. The cursor continued to blink.

“You’ve hardly moved in three hours.”

He jumped at the sound of Mum’s voice.

“I’m nearly finished.”

“You said that yesterday.”

“So?”

“I’ve been watching you. I think you’ve looked out of the window more than you’ve looked at your books.”

“I have not.”