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There hadn’t been a heatwave yet this summer, thank God. Last year had been horrible, the heat, the stupid boyfriend, the—well, it was horrible.
This summer seemed like it might be alright. Lily preferred cooler weather, liked rain.
And James was here. At her house. Talking to her mother in the kitchen, since he’d insisted on helping. Lily resisted every urge to eavesdrop. It would only make her anxious.
He returned with tea and sandwiches, balancing three plates in two hands and grinning, glasses half-slipped down his nose. The bump always stopped them.
“Alright,” he said, putting the food on the coffee table and joining Lily on the couch. “I think your mum is satisfied.”
“Satisfied?”
“With the amount of food she’s provided.” He motioned to the sandwiches, stacked five high. “She gave me an extra, said she didn’t remember me being taller than her.”
Lily’s eyes flashed in a way she knew read as angry, not anxious, but James seemed unperturbed, leaning back into the cushions and stretching an arm over the back of the couch.
Strange, this was. Was it a date? Could anything where your mam made tea be a date?
Lily sipped her tea. It was flagrant, floral, with a touch of sweetness, as Lily liked. She took another sip, leaning back into the couch, expertly just-almost-but-not-quite touching James’ arm.
“The tea is good,” she said.
His smile softened.
“Mum added rosehips from her garden.”
His mother, who’d made him bring the nice tin of tea, because it was his first time visiting.
“She has a garden?”
“It’s huge. Her and dad compete, they’ve each got their patches, best rosebush, biggest pumpkins, y’know. Anyway, movie?”
“Yeah,” Lily used magic to turn the television on. A commercial played, and James looked quite intrigued. “This isn’t it, it’s er, an ad.”
“I can tell when something’s an advertisement, Evans, we have them, too.”
“Well, I wanted to be sure. Besides, it’s not a movie. It’s just, one of the books I was reading that you borrowed, one you said you’d liked.” James brushed his thumb over her shoulder, leaving such a distracting tingle on her skin it cleared out her scattered thoughts. “It’s a series, not a movie. Pride and Prejudice.”
“With the terrible parents? And the stubborn couple?”
“Yes, that one.”
James leaned forward, his arm on her shoulders now, to take his tea in hand. When he settled into the couch, his arm stayed on her shoulders.
The program started. Lily studied James, his eyes fixed on the screen. He’d initiated, so getting closer would be fine, perfectly fine. She settled her head against his shoulder, and in an instant, as if his body moved without thinking, he shifted closer, his arm wrapped more securely around her. Warmth bloomed in her chest; her insides fluttered pleasantly. Despite her nerves, she’d never felt so comfortable with a boy.
“They left out Mary,” Lily said, a few scenes after the Bennet sisters were introduced.
“Poor Mary.”
“It’s a bit cruel, I think, and a bit ironic. Mary gets such poor treatment in the books. Plain, talentless, and now not even worth being on screen.”
James didn’t answer, so she dared a look away from the television to him, and found him watching her. He had such long eyelashes, such a dreamy, quiet look about him. Quiet was a rarity with James.
“I daresay I agree. I don’t remember much of Mary,” he said. “I’m more interested in your opinion than my own, since you’re the expert.”
“Well, not an expert.” Lily looked back to the show as James chuckled. “‘M not. People go to school for this. They study for years, publish papers.”
“You’re being quite literal. I expect you could write a brilliant paper, anyhow.”
“Stop being nice.”
“Stop being nice,” James mocked, and Lily’s head shot up to give him a glare. “The opposite of what you’ve been telling me for the past six years.”
“Watch the program!”
The bickering calmed Lily. In the quiet, she settled into him, arm snuck behind his back to hold his shoulder—she quite liked his shoulders—legs curled up, her knees bumping the side of his leg. Comfortable. Cosy.
They ate the sandwiches and watched, but once she was no longer occupied with food, Lily couldn’t help but make comments every few minutes.
“I hope I’m not going on too much. I invited you over to watch, not listen to me talk.”
“You’re not going on too much.”
It was a simple phrasing, scant in affirmation, but the warmth underneath, the way his voice had gotten a bit lower, reminded her of how he’d sounded after they kissed on the train.
Lily tilted her head up to look at him looking at her. He smiled. One of his cheeks dimpled, only one, only ever one; she used to make fun of him for it. She’d always found it cute.
“Can I kiss you?” James asked, and Lily nodded, cupped his jaw, led his lips to hers for their second kiss.
Slower, tentative; She tangled her hand in his shirt and felt the soft sound James made against her lips. He was gentle, cradling her face, leaving a final, lingering kiss before pulling back. She’d never been kissed like this, like they had all the time in the world. Like she was delicate. Lily hated the idea of being delicate.
But she did want him to kiss her like that, again. Nothing was ever straightforward with James. There was always a knot, a turn, occasionally, Lily could admit, caused by her own stubbornness.
“Are you even watching the show?”
“No,” he grinned, his eyes shining.
“I’m much more amusing?”
“Much more something.”
“You’re so…” Lily blushed. Handsome, annoying, a flatterer.
“Don’t go quiet now, I’ve enjoyed the narration.”
“Fine,” Lily said, as if it was a burden to ramble about Austen. “If you insist.”
He kissed her hair for the first time as she started in on episode two.