Free Limerence by Claire C Riley Page A

give me the courtesy of a phone call. Even a text would do .
    I’ve been sitting around all week wondering if he is all right and when he would be getting home. Well I’m not about to spend the next three months—like he’d said it would take—doing the same thing. Next week will have to be different. I need to speak to him about a lot of things. I wonder whether to mention what happened in the coffee shop with Mr Breckt. What would I tell him though? Your boss fed me some of my Banoffee pie. That just sounds ridiculous. He probably won’t even take me seriously. However, it had been more than just feeding me the pie; it had been raw and sexual. I know in my heart that something is happening between Mr Breckt and me. Something that a part of me deep down wants, but my heart does not.
    I love Oliver, that I do not doubt, but there is something about Mr Breckt that sets my body alight when he’s near. I’m sure he feels it too; it can’t just be me, can it?
    Footsteps interrupt my thoughts, and I glance behind me, but don’t see anything. Even so, I pick up my pace. A chill runs down my spine for some inexplicable reason. I’m only round the corner from the apartment now; I cannot wait to get inside in the warmth and order some food. My stomach rumbles in joy at the thought of food and no more alcohol.
    I hear footsteps again and take another look behind me. Still nothing, but I am definitely spooked. I look round and notice that there isn’t anyone else about. A couple of the corner shops are shutting, the lights going off, but no other signs of movement. I fumble in my bag for my key as I see my door approaching, and realise I am near enough jogging now.
    Too bad I’m not wearing trainers, I think as I trip over in my heels and land heavily on my knees. Pain shoots up them and I cry out.
    I stumble to my feet, my stomach lurching in protest at the too quick movements. The beer sloshes about inside me and my mouth begins to water. I panic for a moment that I am going to throw it all back up, and try to take deep, steadying breaths to settle my stomach back down. In through my nose, out through my mouth; in through my nose, out through my mouth. I lean back against the wall and close my eyes. Well this is embarrassing. I laugh at myself for getting into this situation.
    “Mia, are you okay?” The sound of his voice does its usual trick on my stomach and it flips. It’s more than my body can take, and I find myself heaving on to the floor, the contents of my stomach hitting the pavement in a loud and unattractive splat.
    His arms wrap round my waist as he holds me up, but I push him away. This cannot be happening, I think as I retch repeatedly. He reaches for my hair, to hold it back from my face.
    “Get off me!” I yell, as I wipe my face with the back of my hand.
    Mr Breckt’s arms are around my shoulders again as I try to stand. I try to push him away but he’s made of stone and doesn’t budge. Looking into his handsome face, I expect to see pity, but instead there’s only concern, and perhaps a little annoyance. His strong arms hold me steady on my feet, which I am both glad for and uncomfortable with.
    “Let me help you, Mia,” he says firmly.
    “Thanks, but I’m feeling much better,” I lie, fumbling in my bag for my keys. His hand holds them out to me, and I have a vague memory of dropping them. It’s all I can do to pray that I didn’t throw up on them. I take them and thankfully they’re dry.
    I struggle for a few moments to get the key in the little hole: but the hole is small and the key is being difficult. I feel him behind me, waiting for me to open the door. His breath on the back of my neck, his proximity far too close and intimate. I want to shout at him to go away. Of all the ways I want him to see me, this is not one of them. What is he even doing here? my subconscious jumps in. Oh god, I am so embarrassed. My cheeks flush again and the sudden blood makes my head spin as I tilt to