This is just a single part story. I hope you enjoy it.

I awoke, my neck stiff from sleeping half the night on the sofa. I wondered why I was not cold, then became aware of the soft blanket covering me, tucked in around my shoulders. Knowing how lightly I slept, I realised it must have been placed with such gentleness, so as not to wake me. I rolled over, looking to see if he'd left a note, or perhaps a text message. Once I was asleep, he would surely have left. As my eyes adjusted to the dim light from the lamppost outside, I noticed a shape on the other sofa, and realised that the shape was snoring softly. This time, it was my turn to look after him. I sat up slowly, rubbing my neck, and felt the cold night air hit me as the blanket fell from around me. I noticed he'd laid his coat over his legs, but realised he must still have been cold. I laid the blanket over his body as gently as possible, tucking it in around his shoulders, as he must have done for me. He shifted slightly in his sleep and I froze still, hoping he would not wake, not wanting him to catch me, feeling suddenly awkward about the intimacy of this moment, seeing him asleep. He murmured something unintelligible before falling still and silent again, and I knew he was asleep now. I kissed my fingertips, unsure then where to lay them, and opted for his shoulder. Then, as quietly as possible, I stood up and left the room.

Alone now in my bedroom, I slipped off my clothes. Exhausted, I did not even bother hanging them up, allowing them to fall onto the floor. I unfolded my pyjamas, put them on, and slid into bed. As I lay between the familiar, crisp sheets, I felt my neck relax into the comfort of my pillow. But sleep failed to come. Despite the events of the previous day, I felt comfortable and safe now, knowing that he was nearby, and yet I missed the presence of that large, lolloping man, who was snoring softly on my sofa.

I must eventually have drifted off, as I was awoken by the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs. I leapt out of my bed, threw on my dressing gown to cover myself, and grabbed a spare toothbrush from my en-suite bathroom, still in its wrapper. I edged open my bedroom door to find Eddie looking awkward on my landing, his hair even more out of place than usual, and his shirt crumpled. Pointing, I told him, "that one's the bathroom."

"Thanks," he replied, heading toward the door.

Then I remembered the toothbrush in my hand and held it out to him. "Thanks," he said again, turning back toward the bathroom.

I added, "there's fresh towels in there if you want a shower."

"Thanks," he replied, yet again, this time going through the door.

As I stood alone in my bedroom doorway, relieved that awkward interaction was over, I felt somehow sad to see him leave. I stood for a while and listened to the sound of the shower door sliding shut, and the water flowing. Just hearing him moving around nearby felt comforting. Eventually it occurred to me to move, and I went back into my bedroom and closed the door, the sounds faint now, but still just about audible.

After getting myself showered and dressed, I made my way downstairs and found him sitting at my kitchen table nursing a mug of coffee. He looked up at me, smiling, alert now, and asked, "kettle's just boiled, do you want one?"

I did. I very much wanted a coffee, and to prolong this morning waking up with Eddie in my home. I stepped toward the kettle to pour myself a cup, but he didn't allow me to. Standing up, he instructed me to sit down, pulling out a chair, his hand lingering on my shoulder longer than was strictly necessary to guide me to sit. I looked up at him, and he smiled back at me with his wet hair and crumpled shirt, and I felt instantly relaxed.

He sat back opposite me, our fingers brushing briefly together as he passed me the steaming mug. I watched him stretch his arm out across the back of the chair beside him, and wished I was sitting there instead. I had so much I wanted to say, and the words swam around in my head, then began to settle into place as the coffee entered my system. Still though, I could not bring myself to speak them out loud. Suddenly, he broke the silence: "I found bacon in your fridge."

My confusion must have shown on my face, as he added, "I cook a mean fry up, if you want one."

I felt my mouth turn into a smile. I tried to control it, but I could not. I smiled while Eddie clattered around my kitchen, opening cupboards, somehow finding what he needed without needing to ask. I closed my eyes, taking in the sensations of his presence in my home, surprised by how comfortable I found it. "Rachel," he suddenly interrupted my thoughts.

I hadn't noticed, but now I found myself back in my kitchen, a steaming plate of food on the table in front of me, Eddie's hand on my shoulder. "Are you OK," he asked, looking concerned.

"I am now," I replied, looking at the food.

We ate in a companionable silence, occasionally looking up to smile at each other. I had not realised how hungry I was until I started eating. He laughed at how fast I ate, but somehow it did not matter. At least he could see how much I appreciated his efforts.

I was reluctant to send him away, but we both had work to get on with, and there was nothing more I needed from him now. I knew he would be keen to get some clean clothes as well. Having left work in a hurry on Friday afternoon, he had promised me a lift back to school in the morning to collect my papers and my car. I did not want to take advantage of his time, especially after he had ended up staying all night and cooking my breakfast. I had already taken more than was strictly necessary. I had only expected him to drop me home. I could so easily have arranged a taxi back to the school.

"Of course I will," he replied when I asked him for a lift, "but you can't concentrate in this state. You need some fresh air first to clear your head. I'm taking you for a walk."

He was right, a walk was exactly what I needed. I did not need Eddie for that though. I could easily send him home and have a walk by myself. But, he was offering, and I really would like more of his company. I sat on the bottom stair doing up my shoes, while he took my coat off the hook and held it out for me to slide my arms into.

He led me off the road, down a narrow footpath, which opened out at a pond which I had never known existed. We continued to follow the path around the water, chatting easily about the things we saw around us. He surprised me, pointing out trees and birds as we walked, telling me what they were and how they lived. I never had him down as a twitcher, and this insight into his mind, his interests, was endearing. We paused, trying to spot the bird we could hear singing loudly from the hedgerow, a small brown bird eventually making itself visible on a low branch. "A wren," Eddie confirmed, "can you see how its tail points upwards?"

As we set off to continue walking, I became aware of Eddie's hand in mine. I did not know when this connection had formed, but now I squeezed his hand gently, appreciating the sensation of his warm skin against my own. I saw him turn his face to me and a smile spread from his eyes to his mouth. I realised my legs had stopped moving and we were standing still in the woods by the pond, holding hands and smiling at each other. I felt myself leaning into his body, his free hand wrapping around my shoulders, holding me close, as he pressed his lips to my forehead.

The bark of a dog disturbed the moment. We turned to continue our walk, just as the dog and its owner rounded the corner, and headed back to my house, still hand-in-hand.

Once we got to the school, I headed up to my office to collect my things, while Eddie went to his classroom. When he arrived back at my office with his pile of books, I looked at him confused, seeing his clean shirt. "I always keep a spare at work," he explained.

I was already buried in my work, having noticed new emails on my computer. "I think I'll get this done here," I said, "I'll probably get more done at work than at home."

I saw disappointment form on his face, and realised that he had taken this as a dismissal. Noticing that I really did not want him to leave, I added, "I'm not using the table if you want to work there."

He smiled as he set his books down, taking a seat, and beginning to work alongside me. For a while we both worked, separately, not speaking, but enjoying the presence of each other in the room. Eventually he spoke, "Rach, can I talk you through my plans for the Maths budget?"

"Sure," I replied, coming to sit beside him where I could see the papers he had laid out.

As he spoke, his arm came to rest on the back of my chair, as he had done in my kitchen this morning, yet this time I was in the chair. He did not make contact until we had finished the conversation, and I appreciated the way he had not intruded the personal on our work. I felt his hand on my shoulder, and I looked at his face, those lips that had kissed my forehead earlier by the pond. I felt myself once again leaning into him, my hands wrapping around his body, and my lips settling on his in a kiss.

Whatever I had been afraid of all this time had now dissipated. I could not understand why I had ever pushed him away. Now I just wanted to draw him closer, hold him in my arms and never let him go. And for a while, that is exactly what we did.

The following morning, awaking beside him, I experienced love for the first time. Of course I'd had relationships before, woken up in bed with a man before, even thought I'd been in love before. Until now though, the morning had brought feelings of awkwardness and shame. Wanting to stand under a hot shower to wash away all reminders of what had happened the night before. Craving escape from the situation, wanting aloneness. I'd just thought that was what relationships were. Effort, work, pleasing someone else. But not this time. This time I felt no rush to leave his side. I studied his face, as if seeing him properly for the first time, noticing how relaxed he looked in his sleep. I listened to his slow, restful breaths, and felt the movement of air against my forehead. I felt his legs against mine, his hand resting on my waist, and enjoyed the sensation of his warm skin touching mine. When I allowed my thoughts to turn to the night before, I did not want to leap away from him, as usually I would. I remembered the gentle way he had kissed me, held me, undressed me, and slowly, tentatively, made love to me. Where previously I had given, with Eddie it felt like I was being given to. And yet, he gained pleasure from this too. If it was all just an effort to him, that second time wouldn't have happened. Lying here beside him, I realised so much more than an absence of shame, but also a presence of love, of comfort, of companionship, of safety. He was going to need a few spare shirts at my house too . . . maybe all of them.