Mel

  Wow, admittedly I hadn’t seen this place before, but everything is so clean and tidy that Mel must have been busy getting it ready for me. The same perfume I smelt by her bedroom delicately fragrances the air.

  “Anything else you need?” Zack asks.

  “Nah, this is amazing. Thanks. I guess I should go get some groceries, so I have some food for breakfast.”

  “Mum bought some stuff for you. I think it’s in the fridge and one of the cupboards.” I take a look and see milk, eggs, butter, and cheese in the fridge. And then bread and some cans and crisps in the cupboard.

  “She really didn't need to do all of this.” But I’m so glad she did. Perhaps all is not lost.

  “She said if it was me, she’d hope someone would do it for me. So I guess she wanted you to be comfortable. Want me to show you how to pull the couch out?”

  I look over at it with a frown. “I think we had one like that at home. I should be fine, but thanks.”

  “Wanna come back to the house and hang out? I’ve got some beers.”

  I grip the back of my neck. “Mind if I take a rain check tonight, Zack? I’m knackered, and even though I hardly have any stuff, I want to get it all sorted.”

  “No worries, man. Text if you need anything. Or just come in the back door and holler. It’s usually unlocked unless Mum’s gone to bed.” I frown at that. It wouldn’t be that hard for someone to come round from the front and just walk in.

  “Thanks, Zack. I’ll see you soon.” I walk over to the door as he opens it to step out.

  “Mum gave you the key, yeah?” I dig into my pocket to pull it out and waggle it in front of him. “Sweet, I’ll catch ya later.” He jogs down the stairs and raises a hand with a wave as he heads inside. I shut my door and look around in amazement. It’s only temporary, I know that. But it’s safe and having my own space is monumental after years of tiptoeing around Doug.

  After making some scrambled eggs on toast, I wrestle the sofa into a bed, grab the sheets that Mel left on the leather chair, and get busy making it. The honey scent of her perfume is more prominent on these sheets, as if she’s laid on them or sprayed it directly on them. I can’t help myself from inhaling deeply.

  I cleaned up after dinner and set my laptop up on the wifi, which thankfully works. I close the blinds at the two windows and lock the door before heading to the bathroom to grab a shower. Mel’s even left toiletries for me to use. She can’t help herself. She has to go above and beyond.

  By the time I’m clean, I am done in, not even having the energy to find some clothes to wear as pyjamas. I crawl between the sheets, naked, and breathe in the scent of Mel’s perfume as I fall asleep.

  Days pass by and I barely see Mel. I hear her car pull in and out every now and again, but I’ve mostly steered clear of the house. Zack invited me over one night for beers and gaming, but she’d been nowhere to be seen. I wasn’t sure if she’d been hiding upstairs or out for the evening.

  Abby offered me a clothes rail and some drawers as she was replacing hers. Her and Tom drop them off late one morning before the bar opens. Tom and I lift the wooden drawers up the stairs while Abby carries the dismantled rail. They both look around as we enter and seem impressed with the set-up.

  “Glad you got sorted.” Abby pats me on the shoulder.

  “Me too. Still on the lookout for something else, but this is amazing.”

  “Why leave then? You’re well set up,” she asks, quirking a brow in my direction.

  “It’s not a long-term solution. Just to help me out.”

  “Talk to Mel. If you’re happy here and not giving her any trouble, perhaps she’ll let you stay longer.”

  “Yeah, maybe.”

  Tom, as usual, stays quiet but is paying attention to the conversation.

  “Have you seen much of her? Mel?” Abby asks, and it’s only because I was glancing at Tom that I notice his frown.

  “Err, no, trying to keep out of the way. She’s already done so much. I don’t want to end up being like an extra person she’s responsible for.” I wince at the thought.

  “Maybe you should offer to cook her dinner as a thank you. Or wash her car or something?” I glance sharply at her at the carwash comment. Does she know about Mel and I? Did Mel spill the beans on the bet we’d had when I’d made her come multiple times? There’s nothing in Abby’s gaze that I can see, but I wonder if it’s a feigned innocence.

  “Maybe. Or cook her breakfast, perhaps?” Her eyebrows lift at that. Ha, gotcha! So the ladies have been talking about me, have they? I hope it’s good.

  “Come on Ab, we should get going,” Tom interrupts. “Glad you’re settled, Alex. I should have more shifts for you from next week if you want them. We’ll be busier over the Christmas period and then Sean is off travelling after that.”

  “That would be great. As many as I can get. I can work the pottery stuff around it.”

  “Ooh, do you have any of your pottery here for me to look at?” Abby asks, her face lighting up.

  “Not much, just some mugs I made and a bowl.” I gesture to the kitchen where they’re kept. She gives Tom a quick pleading glance, and he gives a slight nod.

  “Show me.”

  I walk her over to the kitchen and show her the mug and bowl on the drainer where I washed them after breakfast. They’re pretty rudimentary. Some of my earlier stuff but serviceable. I could pick apart the flaws I see in them now that I have more experience, but the signature of my evolving design is clear in the lip of the bowl and the handle of the mug. They are both glazed in a deep blue with flecks of brown. It’s one of my favourite glazes.

  “Oh wow, amazing. Do you sell this stuff?” she asks.

  “Not that stuff. It’s my earlier practice. I’ve got a shelf at the Art Centre with stuff I sell. And an Instagram page too.”

  “Oooh, what’s your IG handle? I’ll add you.” I tell her and she pulls up the app, searches for me, and hits the follow button. “I’d love to buy a mug from you.”

  “Pick one you like from my page and I’ll bring it for my next shift,” I tell her, knowing full well that I won’t charge her. It’ll be a small token of thanks for the furniture and support she’s given me since I started at the pub.

  “Awesome, thanks.” She hesitates and then stands on her tiptoes to plant a kiss on my cheek and give me a hug. My arms come around her with a squeeze of surprise. “I really am glad you’re settled. Don’t forget to do something to thank Mel. Maybe she’d like some of your pottery, too. If you charm her, I’m sure she’d be happy for you to stay longer.” She gives me a wink and turns towards the door. “Let’s go,” she says to Tom as if it’s been him holding her up all this time. He rolls his eyes as she goes out the door and then gives me a friendly nod. He pauses at the door and looks back at me.

  “She’s interfering, but I think she means well.”

  “Yeah, I know. Thanks.”

  Chapter seventeen

  Mel

  I’m trying my hardest to avoid Alex at all costs. I’ve been working more at the office and even reaching out to people I’ve been meaning to catch up with for ages to make plenty of appointments outside of the house. I’m worried that if I’m home too often and he’s there that I’ll be drawn up those stairs to knock on his door and see how he’s doing.

  He’s been here nearly two weeks though and as far as I know, has only been in the house a couple of times when Zack has invited him over and I’ve made myself scarce. He must surely need to do some laundry by now. Does he even know how to do it? Perhaps his mum used to do it for him? If I take ten minutes to show him how it all works and agree a day he can do it, I can then leave him to it. I can also check if there’s anything else he needs at the same time.

  I shoot him a text:

  Me:

  Hey, it’s Mel. If you’re around today, I can show you how to use the washing machine and dryer if you want. Surely you must need some clean clothes by now?

  It’s not too long before my phone beeps with his reply:

  Alex:

  That would be good, thanks. I can be over in half an hour if that works for you.

  Me:

  Sure, see you then. *smiley face emoji*

  I make myself a cup of herbal tea and tidy up some paperwork that’s been accumulating on the kitchen counter while I wait for him. I’ve got a quiet day at work, meeting-wise, and I’m taking some time out as it’s about to get manic with the end of the year rush of events we have on.

  It doesn’t seem like much time has passed before I hear a knock at the back door. I head over and can see his silhouette through the frosted glass. I open up, being sure to paste a polite smile on my face.

  “Come in.” I stand back, and he carries in a big reusable shopping bag full to the brim with clothes. I can’t hold in my laugh. “You were waiting for an invitation, I take it?”

  “Err, still getting the hang of it all, to be honest. Good thing you texted because I’m currently wearing my last clean pair of boxers.” He gives a rueful grimace.

  “Come through, I’ll show you how it all works.” He follows me through to the tiny laundry room off to the side of the kitchen. I hadn’t thought this through. It’s very close quarters in here.

  I open the door for the washing machine, which is stacked underneath the dryer.

  “It should all fit in here. Chuck it in.” I take a step to the side, but he still has to brush close to me to load it. “There’s laundry detergent here… just use this. No need to have your own.”

  “Thanks. I hadn’t even thought to get some.” I pass him the bottle and our fingers brush as he takes it from me. He draws in what sounds like a shaky breath. “How much do I use?”

  “Fill up the cap and then chuck the whole thing in the machine.” I watch as he does as instructed. “Then this is probably the best setting for everyday washing. If you have any more dirty stuff from the pottery, I’d use this one.” I point at a different setting.

  “Thanks. I rinse it out at the studio so most of the clay dust and silt is gone.”

  “It should take about an hour. You’ll need to check your labels to see if it can go in the dryer. That’s really simple… just flick this dial round to the time you want. Usually an hour does it. But be sure to set a timer, so you remember to come and get it. It’ll smell of damp if you leave it in there.”

  “Okay, thanks.” He gives me a nod and pulls his phone out of his back pocket, setting a timer for an hours’ time. “Is it okay if I come back to switch it over?”

  “Yeah, no worries. How’s everything else over there? Do you have everything you need?”

  “It’s great, thanks. I’m sleeping like a hibernating bear. The sofa bed is surprisingly comfortable.”

  “Excellent, and the wifi is all good?”

  “Yeah, no problems.” A pause and he looks at me as if trying to decide what to say next. “Abby suggested I do something to say thank you, like washing your car.”

  The blush floods my cheeks. Dammit, Abby, I mentioned that in confidence. He has a knowing look in his eyes and I’m sure my blush isn’t helping.

  “Did she?” I frown.

  “I haven’t paid you any rent yet. Should I set up an automatic payment?”

  “There’s no rush.”

  “I want to pay my way.”

  “Okay.” I give him a nod. At least we’re no longer talking about that daft bet we made in bed. “Come through, I’ll write down my bank details.” He follows me to the breakfast bar and I grab a notepad. I add the amount we agreed underneath and pass it over.

  He looks it over. “Thanks. I’ll get this set up today.”

  “Honestly, there’s no rush.”

  “I’ll be back in a bit to switch the laundry. I’ll knock before I come in.”

  “Okay, probably see you soon then.”

  “You’re home all day?”

  “Yes, I’ve got a work event tonight, but here until then.”

  He heads out, and I breathe a big sigh as he does.

  Once I’m sure he’s gone and peek out the window to see him go into his place, I grab my phone and bring up Abby’s number. I hit the call button and listen to it ring several times.

  “Hey, Mel.”

  “You've been meddling again?” I don’t bother with a greeting.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Don’t take that innocent tone with me. Did you, or did you not, suggest that Alex does something to ‘thank me?’ Something like washing my car?” I should have video called her so I could watch as she tries to get out of this.

  “Ahh, it was too good not to. Sorry, Mel. How’s he doing?”

  “He’s fine. Keeping himself to himself. I was just showing him how to use the washer and dryer.”

  “It seems such a shame to have him so close, knowing that he’s so willing to please you in bed and not do anything about it.”

  I humph, not knowing what else to say. I daren’t admit to her it’s crossed my mind more than a few times.

  “Have you seen his pottery pieces?”

  “No, not yet. I’ve got a meeting at the Arts Centre later this week. Maybe I’ll pop by and have a look.”

  “You totally should. His stuff is amazing. He gifted me a beautiful mug as a thank you for the furniture I gave him. It’s stunning. Do you follow him on Instagram?”

  “What? No.” I haven’t let myself search his name online. That seems like a step too far.

  “I’m sending you the link now. You should have a look. He’s amazing.” I hear the notification bell for the message she’s just sent.

  “I’ll take a look.”

  “When are you coming in for a drink? Cassidy and Tom are off to New York next week. We should all catch up before they go.”

  “That sounds good. We should do something when you’re not working.”

  We agree to catch up towards the end of the week. I suggest the girls come to me and send Cassidy a message to see if she can make it too. I’ll need to warn Zack. Perhaps he can go out with friends that night. Unless he wants to drink wine and talk about smutty books.

  I’m sitting at the breakfast bar, pouring over Alex’s Instagram feed. It’s hot. There’s no other way to describe it. It alternates between stylish, simple photos of his finished pieces, shot from all angles and blatant thirst traps. Videos with him sat at the potter's wheel, slapping the clay down and using his magnificent hands to sculpt it. Occasionally, he looks directly at the camera, and it’s like he’s looking into my soul. He doesn’t talk on the videos but occasionally has music accompanying them.

  I’ve just spent almost an hour engrossed in them. The photos of his work drew me in and I get now what Abby was saying about how talented he is. But the videos, the videos have me hooked. What a genius idea. He’s got over 5,000 followers and I can see why. I would lay good money on ninety per cent of his audience being female. When I hear a knock on the door, I drop the phone in my haste to close the app and not look suspicious.

  Alex opens the door after waiting a moment and his brows lift in surprise at seeing me sitting there.

  “Should I come back later?”

  “No, no, it’s all good. Go for it.” I gesture to the laundry room and then use the same hand to tuck my hair behind my ear. I pick my phone back up and flick to my work emails, deleting any junk and marking a few to read later when I’m less distracted.

  I hear him switching the laundry from the washer to the drier and he comes back out with some damp clothing over his arm.

  “Uh, these don’t go in. I’ll hang them up to dry. I’ll be back again in an hour.”

  “Wait, Alex,” I call out without thinking about it. Something makes me want to engage him in conversation, to get to know him better. “Do you want a coffee?”

  His head tilts to the side, his eyes sparkling, “Sounds good, thank you.”

  “There’s a clothes airer in the laundry—you can hang those items on that if you like.”

  I prepare his coffee and one for myself and bring them over to the breakfast bar as he comes back into the kitchen.

  “Grab a seat.” I pat the stool next to me. “I’d love to hear more about your pottery work. How long have you been doing it?” What am I playing at? After weeks of avoiding him, I’m now suddenly chatty.

  “I had an art teacher who was a potter. He had a kiln at school. We did a term of pottery and then he set up a club. I was hooked. I love getting my hands dirty. It’s always been kinda magic to me that I can take a lump of clay and turn it into something beautiful.”

  I can’t look away, entranced by his passion for the craft. His whole face lights up as he talks about it.

  “What sort of stuff do you make?” I know fine well after my recent Instagram stalking, but I want him to tell me about it.

  “All sorts. As part of my apprenticeship, I need to learn and be able to demonstrate different forms and techniques. I really love creating on the wheel. I’ve been working up with sizes. Last week I made a huge vase with a massive lump of clay. It took several attempts to get it right.” A satisfied grin tugs at the corners of his mouth, causing dimples in his cheeks. My hand twitches with the need to reach up and stroke his face.

  “How many times does it go wrong?” I ask.

  “Loads. And at all stages of the process. It could look amazing and then end up exploding in the kiln. You really have to be able to let go of perfectionism and just go with the flow.”

  “That sounds difficult,” I respond with a wince. “Going with the flow isn’t exactly my strong suit.”

  “But in your line of work, you must have to be flexible, right?” he asks. “I guess stuff changes all the time when you’re running events.” I look across to the window while I ponder his question to stop myself from staring at him.

  “Yeah, I guess I can be flexible. But I find it difficult when I’m not the one making the decisions.” Our eyes meet, lighting up a fire deep in my belly. He’s so easy to talk to. I could sit here for hours.