The six-month housemate

Forty-One

FORTY-ONE

The ride to Cambridge seemed both longer and shorter than usual. The motorway's landscape slipped away in a repetitive blur of dappled shadows. Given the relative lateness of the trip - it was, after all, past 10pm, which might as well be past midnight on a Friday for families wishing to escape the "polluted London air" - the road was free from traffic, although we did overtake a couple of trucks. I had to concentrate so I wouldn't fall asleep (even with a helmet on, Alex's back was very comfortable), which made every mile seem like five.

Alas, when we finally arrived in front of the house's gate, and I was at last within walking distance of a comfortable bed, Morpheus loosened his grip on me. Typical.

"It's probably going to be a little chilly, the heating hasn't been on in ages. We have plenty of covers if you need, though." Alex smiled as we entered the house, my bag gallantly balanced on his shoulder.

He carried it to my room, claiming I was too tired to do it myself. He kissed me chastely on the cheek before retiring to his room, at the other end of the corridor. The truth is, I was actually more frozen than tired, although the latter surely did not help in the matter. Saying it was "chilly", though, was a grand understatement. Even tossing and turning in my warmest pyjamas and woolly jumper, rolled in a duvet and two additional blankets did not help me stop shivering.

On the verge of freezing to death -what do you mean, I'm exaggerating?- I had a Eureka moment as I recalled Alex also had a double bed. Far from me the idea of forgetting Henry by going straight into another man's arms, I decided I would go and ask the gentleman who shared my roof if I could sleep with him tonight. Platonically, of course.

The door of his bedroom was completely open, letting light into the corridor. He was still awake then, good. I tiptoed towards his room, and stopped when confronted to his sight. Well, the sight of his back. He was wearing his pyjama trousers, and was busy taking off his shirt. I knocked, trying not to gape at his muscled back, which contracted slightly as he tossed his garments at the foot of his bed. He turned around and smiled.

"Hey."

"Hey." My breath kind of hitched, as he was still topless. God, did his abs look toned. Don't look at them. I repeat, do not look at them.

"What can I do for you?" He picked his bed shirt from under his pillow and put it on. Too bad for me. Although not for my heart, which resumed beating at its cruise pace.

"Um, well, my bedroom and bed are ice-cold, and I was wondering if maybe you wouldn't mind if I slept with you. Not in that way, of course, it's just that, since you have a double bed and..."

Alex laughed sexily (can a laugh be sexy? I don't know but his sounded like it can. My tired state was making me very corny). "Relax, no problem. It's absolutely freezing in this house."

Well, you sure didn't look like you were freezing two minutes ago, I thought. He nearly made me forget about why we were even here in the first place. Almost.

"Thank you. I promise I'm not a bed-hog! You're just saving a poor soul from the not very appealing doom of becoming a white-walker." I joked, a little uneasily.

"I guess that's for the best, I fear I'd have no weapon to fend for myself were your transformation to occur, so I'm actually only protecting myself." He winked. "You sleep on the right, right?"

"Only if you don't, it's your bed after all. I wouldn't want to be too imposing."

"You could never be. And you're in luck, I sleep on the left."

I thanked him profusely as I made my way towards what would be my side of the bed for the night to come. Alex slipped in from the other side, and after agreeing that today had been a long day, we decided to turn off the lights.