“Don’t panic,” he told me. “This doesn’t have to change anything.” “How?” I whispered. “We’re friends,” he said, stroking my tangled hair. “Friends who are attracted to each other. We can keep doing this without complicating it.” “Sounds like a recipe for disaster.” “Do you want to stop? Say you want to stop, and we will.” “Our deal?” “Not the deal. Just this.” I shook my head. In the end, I couldn’t lie. “I don’t want to stop.” “Then we won’t.” He kissed me properly, then, and I hit his arm because our breath smelled horrible, and he’d just smiled and pulled me closer.
