‘No, tell me,’ he said.
She shut her eyes. ‘Make me,’ she whispered.
‘What?’
‘That tone you took before. I couldn’t argue with that. You could ask me to do anything.’
Rob’s eyes widened. He could use his voice to wield power? Well, there was a thought. It had always been the case that people tended to do as he asked; he was just that kind of person. It wasn’t bossiness, more a clear idea of what needed doing and the firm intention of getting it done. The idea that a girl might find it … Did she? Did she find it arousing? Did he turn her on when he ordered her around?
‘OK,’ he said firmly. ‘You’re going to tell me whatever this thing is.’
‘Maybe not in the kitchen,’ she demurred.
‘Your room or mine?’
‘Mine, I guess. No, it’s a mess. Yours.’
Rob’s room wasn’t a great deal tidier, the bed unmade and a tottering pile of books adorning the centre of the floor, but it had a desk chair to sit in, and he pulled up a squashy footstool so that Ruth could crouch at his feet. This seemed to suit the dynamic admirably, and she made no protest, so he crossed his feet at the ankles, steepled his fingers and raised an eyebrow.
‘Well?’
‘I can’t,’ she said, crimson of cheek.
‘You can, and you will. I won’t let it drop now. Tell me what’s on your mind.’
‘Oh, you’re going to make me,’ she said, with a little tremble in her voice that owed more to pleasure than fear. ‘Aren’t you?’ She glanced hopefully up at him.
He nodded, face perfectly straight.
‘Oh God,’ she fluttered, and then, sotto voce, ‘Why can’t Dave be like this?’
Because Dave’s not the right man for you.
Her chest was heaving like nobody’s business. He had an urge to grab her by the elbow and just … He had to shake it out of his head.
‘OK,’ she said. ‘This is going to sound weird.’
‘Weird’s fine with me. Go on.’
‘I want to be better at, you know, life in general. Tidier, more organised, on top of things. I’ve got so many bad habits I don’t know where to start. I thought it might be easier if I had a, like, kind of, like, a mentor.’
‘A mentor? Like a supervisor?’
‘Yeah,’ she said eagerly, ‘except for general stuff, not my PhD. Someone to check that my room’s tidy, and bills are paid, and there’s decent food in the fridge and, you know, just keep me on track.’
‘Keep you on track?’ Rob smiled. He couldn’t help it. He could see where this was going, and he liked it a lot.
‘Take charge,’ said Ruth, and her voice was barely there, though the eye contact certainly was.
‘Take charge of you?’
‘Yeah.’ She swallowed and looked at the door. ‘Sorry, it’s a stupid idea. I know you’re busy and I don’t want to impose.’
She half-clambered to her feet, but he put out a hand.
‘No, no, no,’ he said. ‘Don’t move.’
She subsided back on to the beanbag.