Tell Me Our Story
Page 19
“They’ve been swapping lines online for months. They were almost shy around one another at the con, but now . . . surely they must see it.”
“That doesn’t mean they can admit it.”
A pause. “No. Maybe they don’t know how. Or if they should.”
Jonathan pressed his lips together and gave a sharp nod.
O’Hara scrolled the feed. The Sapphire Twins had a clip of them out in the rain. One opened his umbrella and held it aloft, and the other grabbed his soaking brother close so they could huddle under it together.
The soaking wet one had to be the twin that believed in soulmates.
Jonathan approved. “I can see why they got through.”
“Hey, more excitement for us, please.”
Jonathan shook his head, lips twitching. “Yes, you were also amazing.”
“Team effort, but nevertheless—” O’Hara threw his head back and splayed his arms theatrically. “Jonathan Hart praising me! Let me soak in this moment!”
Heat shot up Jonathan’s neck; he heaved himself off the couch.
“Nooooo, stay. I’ll tone it down. A smidge.”
Reluctantly, Jonathan folded himself onto the cushion again.
O’Hara’s feet landed in his lap, crossed at the ankles. Jonathan whipped his head around to O’Hara getting comfortable, hands looping behind his head. “Tell me something, Jonathan.”
“What?”
A smile. “Whatever comes to mind.”
“. . .”
O’Hara’s heels dug around his inner thigh.
Jonathan lifted and removed them. “You’re even wrigglier than I remember.”
O’Hara sprang into a sitting position, folding his legs. He cupped his chin in both hands. “What else?”
“You hate being told what to do.”
“I’m extremely good at reading people.”
“You’re restless and impatient.”
“I don’t hold grudges.”
“You conceal your emotional vulnerability.”
O’Hara smiled but his eyelids shuttered briefly.
Jonathan cleared his throat. “And you’re a searching soul. You philosophise about life and l—” His stomach was back on that swing bridge. “You’re always there when someone needs you.”
O’Hara cocked his head. “When a friend needs me.”
Jonathan swallowed.
O’Hara swivelled onto his knees, cutting the distance between them by half. “Know what? We have great communication together.”
Jonathan raised a brow.
“We make excellent friends. Our interests mesh. And we’re emotionally compatible. I mean, look at us.”
“. . .”
“Please let me read your book . . .”
“Relentless.” He rose from the couch.
“Jonathan!”
“Bedtime.”
“Wait. Come back!”
Jonathan shut his bedroom door.
O’Hara in bed, sleepily blinking in the sunlight stretching over his pillow.
I’ve been woken at this ungodly hour of . . . huh. Well, it’s Sunday, the day of rest. Hart whipped open these curtains on purpose. So passive aggressive. He’s just upset I smuggled my poster back into his bed again—Hey, give it back!
Chapter Seven
Social Challenge 2: Love is Friendship
Jonathan confiscated O’Hara’s phone, sliding it into his back pocket. “You’ll get this back once you’re ready. We have a midday deadline.”
“I saw it,” O’Hara said grumpily. “Love is Friendship. And you know what friendship is? Letting me sleep another half hour! There. We post that. Done. Bring on the next round.”
“Up.” Jonathan walked out of the room.
O’Hara’s inexorable whining followed him to the table. While O’Hara took his time dragging himself out of bed, Jonathan called Jacquie and checked in.
“Mum just called, she needs me to drive down tomorrow and help her out. But I was wondering . . .” She cleared her throat. “Maybe Savvy can stay with me next weekend?”
“Jacquie . . .”
“What? You need more alone time. And with O’Hara back . . . Besides, you suck at Gloomhaven.”
Jonathan rubbed two fingers at his temple.
“So, deal?”
“Hm.”
“Also . . . if you need help filming or anything today . . .”
Jonathan thanked her, wrapped up the call, and returned to his earlier conundrum: how to interpret today’s challenge. Love is friendship . . .
He’d noted some ideas on cue cards and laid them out.
Take O’Hara out horse-riding?
* * *
Buy him brunch?
* * *
Teach him how to row properly.
* * *
Tell the world something interesting about O’Hara. (What?)
O’Hara swept into the room and picked that last card up. He read it aloud and laughed. “What do you mean what? You can’t think of a single interesting thing about me?”
“Put it down.”
“Like you just put me down?”
Jonathan delivered him a blank look. “You’re reading it wrong.”
O’Hara perked up. “Am I? How should I read it? Ohhhh. Like there are so many interesting things about me you don’t even know where to start?”
“. . .”
O’Hara dropped into the chair next to him with a whoosh that made the cue cards scatter, half falling to the floor. He dropped his chin into his palms, grinning. “What do you find interesting about me?”
Jonathan picked up the offending cue card and ripped it up. “We’re not doing that one.”
“Why’s that?”
“Eat your breakfast.”
“But then brunch is off the table.”
Jonathan scoured the cue cards and then the floor. “It was already.”
O’Hara laughed. “Anyway, I already know what we can do for today’s post.”
Jonathan shifted, relief slowing his pulse a notch. He hadn’t been sold on any of his own ideas, and that he’d drawn such a blank frustrated him. He’d sensed how important winning the Social Challenge was for O’Hara and he didn’t want to be the one dragging them down.