Boyfriend Material (London Calling, #1)

by Alexis Hall

Pulling on Oliver’s dressing gown, I headed downstairs. Oliver was eating something scarily healthy-looking from a mason jar, and reading the Financial Times on his iPad. God, he was adorable. “There’s toast.” He glanced up, looking like some kind of weird and highly specific porno for people who are really into incredibly cut men and funny-coloured newspapers. “Or fruit. Or bircher. I can make porridge if you prefer.” I was still a bit too emotioned out for that much fibre. So I helped myself to a banana, from a bunch that hung from what appeared to be a bespoke banana hanging place, next to, but not in, the offensively well-stocked fruit bowl. “What’s with the…?” I pointed. “Do you have a problem with bananas?” “Not personally. But they release ethylene, which is a ripening agent, and can cause other fruit to go bad.” “Oh. Right.” “I’m sorry. Would you rather I’d said that I was concerned about treason in my fruit bowl and strung them from a gibbet pour encourager les autres.” “You remember that time I pretended I spoke to French to impress you? Well, I still can’t.” He laughed and pulled me into a kiss—which got me not quite into his lap but very much lap adjacent. “You don’t need to speak French to impress me.” My heart stuttered. But I still wasn’t used to all of this…intimacy and okayness. “What are you eating?” I blurted out instead. “It looks like spunk with fruit in it.” “Thank you, Lucien. You always know exactly what to say.” Sheepishly, I nuzzled into his neck ...