In Over His Head

Chapter 33

"Go away, I am currently not functional," Sharla moaned.

Someone was knocking on her doorway too early for her liking. She groaned and flopped over, noticing the rain spattering across the window, the sound much too loud.

Whoever that is better have coffee, she thought as she burrowed out of the comforter and stared malevolently at the door.

"Shar, stop being ridiculous and open the damned door."

"It's not locked," she replied, and combed at her hair, her heart suddenly in overdrive. It was early, and Kevin was coming to her room, likely to talk about yesterday and she was incredibly not ready for that.

Her door creaked open, and Kevin stepped through, two steaming mugs on a tray with what looked to be croissant. He was the last person she wanted to see, but at least the coffee gods had listened... and apparently the pastry ones too.

"Good morning, Shar," he said, and shoved the door closed with his foot, carrying the tray over to the foot of her bed. They stared at one another for a moment, and he then blinked and set the tray down.

"How are you able to function so early? We didn't get in until after one in the morning," she grumbled, and reached for the throw blanket jumbled on the other side of the bed. She wrapped it around herself, turning herself into a giant blanket-wrapped burrito, sticking her arms out through the front folds.

"I've always been an early riser," he said, and shrugged. "I can come back."

"You've woken me up now, so here you are. Hand over the caffeine before I murder you," she said.

He set a mug into her outstretched hands. She sipped, the immediate relief coursing through her body.

"Ohhhh, God, yes," she moaned and slouched in her makeshift cocoon while the steam from the coffee wafted up. "Thank you."

Kevin cleared his throat and she turned to take him in. In typical Kevin fashion, he was in a button down shirt, and denim, dressed for the day, perfectly polished oxford dress shoes and shiny watch to complete the stuffy earl requirements pummelled into him.

"Do you ever wear sweats?" she asked. "Like, outside of the gym."

He gave her an odd look, and then sipped at his coffee. "No, I can't say it has ever crossed my mind."

Sharla made a mental note to buy him some, but then wondered if it would be appropriate. They weren't together, and that was a couple-thing, if there was such a term.

"Shar," he said quietly as she contemplated what he would look like in low-slung grey sweatpants and nothing else, and blinked away the image as the tone in his voice caught her. He did not sound relaxed.

"What is it? You're all scrunchy again," she said.

He let out a big breath and pulled his phone out from his back pocket. "I need you to see these before you see them on your own. We are dealing with it, so there is no need to panic."

"Don't panic? Well now I will, gimme," she said, and gestured for the phone. She knew what she was going to see. Headlines and pictures of them last night. Likely one of her from a very bad angle, with all the headlines like before. Inside, she was shaking, but she frowned as he unlocked his phone and handed it to her.

It was queued to the Tatler, and there she was, with him, on the front page. It wasn't a bad photo. In fact, it took her breath away as she catalogued the way they were looking at one another. Did she really look at him like that? It was completely over-the-top, puppy-love infatuation on her damned face. And his?