Archive of Our Own

Penelope sipped her coffee and stared out the window of Sydney International Airport, watching planes taxi up and down the tarmac. The sky was so blue it seemed absurd, and around her the chatter of travellers was low and twangy. Tinsel hung from every possible surface surrounding her, alien in contrast to the sunshine and blue skies, at least to her. Hot Christmas would be weird, but still better than Christmas at the Featheringtons’ by a mile. She sat back, feeling almost relaxed. As much as she was apprehensive about the assignment, at least she was in a beautiful country with good coffee.

Muffled announcements rang over the PA and she checked the time on her phone. Nearly ten. She was exhausted, her flight arriving only an hour before, and she was desperate for a shower, her hotel room and a coma-like sleep. It was midnight at home, and she’d been too in tune with her body clock to sleep much on the planes here. Plus, she wasn’t very good at sleeping places that weren’t her bed. It had been a monster of a journey, and if she had it her way she’d already be asleep, but she’d promised her editor she’d meet the photographer since his flight from somewhere in South America got in just after hers. She was regretting agreeing now, though, since there was no sign of him.

She checked the name of the little café she sat in for the hundredth time and just like the previous 99, it was the one she said she’d meet him at. She should have asked for his phone number, or what he looked like, or literally anything, but she’d been too eager to take the job. She’d just said yes, yes, and absolutely, and now here she was. This was her chance to move into topics that actually interested her, finally, and she was going to take it. Even if it meant spending a week in Australia over Christmas.

Agatha had been dubious offering it to her, unsure if she’d be willing to be away for the holiday, then pleasantly surprised at her eagerness. They needed to be there that week for the coral spawn, she said, and Christmas week was the only time in December they could book the photographer they wanted; someone they trusted with experience with underwater photography. Penelope had taken it all on board, desperately trying to seem professional while secretly thrilled at not only the chance to break into their newly established environment and international division, but also having a rock-solid excuse not to spend the holiday with her family. She loved her work for Whistledown so far, she did, but she wanted to challenge herself. And interviewing marine biologists about how climate change had affected coral spawn events seemed like a perfect way to do that. Not to mention she could do with a fucking holiday.

She was about to message Agatha and hope she was awake to ask for a phone number when a deep voice startled her.

“Penelope?”

She looked up in shock, the man standing at her table looking down at her with disbelief and confusion.

Oh for fuck’s sake.

“Colin?” she spluttered. What the fuck was he doing here? Oh that’s right, probably fucking his way around the world on his grand slut tour.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, his face looking insultingly surprised that she dared to be anywhere that wasn’t London.

“Working,” she snapped, wondering what she had to do to make him lose interest and carry on. Exist, judging from experience. Colin rolled his eyes at her tone and looked around the coffee shop.

“Alright, sorry to disturb you, Jesus…” he muttered. He cast his eyes around himself again, like he was looking for something. An exit, probably.

“See ya,” she dismissed him and took another sip of her coffee. She was sure she’d pretend to be more civil another day, but right now she was jetlagged, exhausted and waiting for this fucking photographer who she now hated for the pure fact that this interaction wouldn’t be happening if he’d been here on time. She glanced up at Colin, annoyed he hadn’t moved yet, and noticed he was carrying a small bag across his chest.

It looked like…

Oh fuck. No. No, she reassured herself, it was just a coincidence. He was an influencer. They used all sorts of cameras.

“Looking for a date?” she asked, annoyed at how bitterly she said it, when he looked around for the third time and still didn’t move from the table. Leave, her exhausted brain begged. God forbid her new coworker show up while she was having a bitch-off with her ex-best friend.

Colin looked at her, disgust on his stupid face.

“No I’m looking for….” he gulped, staring at her as horror washed over his face. “Penelope, do you still write for Whistledown?”

Penelope narrowed her eyes.

“Yes, why?” she shot back, instantly suspicious. Colin looked like he’d been punched in the gut, which was gratifying, but also confusing.

“I’m the photographer from One Shot”. He stared at her as he spoke, like he couldn’t believe it either.

Fucking fuck.

“What the fuck.” She winced as her inner monologue spilled out unbidden. Colin rolled his eyes again.

“Yeah, well. Not ideal.”

“You think?” Penelope’s sluggish brain went over what this meant. A week with this guy, who she hated (and who hated her) in the middle of nowhere…sort of. Fucking aces.

“Great. I’ll see you in the morning then.”

She stood and Colin stepped back, surprised at her sudden movement.

“Where are you going?” Colin called after her as she rolled her suitcase behind her.

“To sleep,” she answered over her shoulder, satisfied at the look of shock on his face as she did. Probably the first time someone had left him in a coffee shop in his life.

Good. It was some nice character development for him.

~~~

Penelope awoke an indeterminate number of hours later feeling somehow worse, and her hotel room phone ringing. She groaned as she saw the digital clock by the bed flash 12:24 and snatched up the phone.

“Hello?” she croaked, sounding like a dehydrated zombie.

“Penelope?” Colin’s voice came through and her lip curled in disgust. “Are you up? We have to be at the airport in an hour.”

Penelope bristled.

“Yes,” she lied. “I’m just heading out now, thanks for your concern.”

When he replied, he didn’t sound impressed.

“Sure you are. Just be downstairs in ten minutes so we can get the cab on time.”

Penelope fought the urge to smash the phone receiver against the bedside table a few times.

“And if I want to get my own taxi?” she challenged, unable to help herself.

Colin snorted.

“Then good luck finding one that hasn’t been prebooked in time, I guess.” There was a click as he hung up. Penelope collapsed back on the bed and screamed into her pillow.

Jesus fucking fuck, he was infuriating.

Fifteen minutes later she appeared downstairs, having waited five minutes later than the time he told her out of pure spite. He did not tell her what to do. She held her breath as the elevator doors opened and felt a little twinge of relief to see he hadn’t left without her. She didn’t think he would, but still. It wasn’t like she knew him anymore.

Colin stood from where he sat in the foyer, his mouth pressed in a line of barely concealed annoyance. He didn’t speak, just fiddled with something on his camera as she checked out and then silently led them out to the front where a taxi was waiting.

“Thanks for waiting,” he said to the driver genuinely, but she didn’t miss the way he looked pointedly at her as he said it. The driver who was helping them load their bags into the boot, waved him off.

“No worries, mate,” he said warmly and she couldn’t help but smile at the classic colloquialism.

Colin sat in the front seat and she sat behind him, staring resolutely out the window as the sun-soaked city passed in front of her. It was going to be a long fucking week.

~~~

Colin wondered how badly he needed a job. Technically he was a trust-fund baby. And as much as he had detested this truth most of the time, it could come in handy since he was seriously considering quitting his job so he didn’t have to endure the next week.

They sat next to each other in silence on the plane ride to Cairns, Penelope pretending to sleep (she wasn’t sleeping — she had never been able to sleep anywhere that wasn’t a bed and also she was a terrible actor — but she thought he was an idiot) while he tried to concentrate on the documentary on his iPad. Up until yesterday, he had been so excited about this project, Queensland and the Great Barrier Reef in particular being on his bucket list for his whole life.

Now he was wondering if,when he eventually dived in, he could just keep swimming. And how long it would be before he reached land and found somewhere to start his new life.

He should have asked for more information when he was given the assignment. Whistledown was enough to have him questioning things, but last he heard Penelope was working gossip, not environment, travel or international. But no, here she was, stubbornly pretending to be unconscious even though her eyes opened every thirty seconds and her breath was way too fast for anyone sleeping.

He sighed, rewinding the last five minutes for the twentieth time. It wouldn’t have made a difference even if he had known she’d be joining him. He could be civil. And he loved his job. And he wasn’t going to let his bestie turned nemesis ruin that. He scoffed internally. What kind of grown man had a nemesis? But it wasn’t his fault. She was the one who wanted to be childish. So there.

~~~

Colin tried not to feel too smug as he saw Penelope scowl in his peripheral vision. With all his travel, he was used to the humidity and heat by now, but she was coming straight from London in winter and had no chance to acclimatise. And it wasn’t like he wanted her to be uncomfortable. But she was going to pretend she was fine, and that would be amusing. If he couldn't be him — if she wouldn’t let him help her with her bags, or exchange smiles when the Aussie cab driver was particularly Australian, or talk to him on the plane — it felt like it was only fair that she sit there with her pride, all red and flustered and sweaty.

They were waiting at the front desk of their accommodation, while a woman in a loud Christmas shirt and reindeer earrings hummed Jingle Bells cheerfully and clicked at the computer in front of her. They had landed in Cairns about an hour ago, then spent half an hour in another taxi to Palm Cove, where they’d be staying. The weather was hot and muggy, a storm off the coast bringing in extra humidity and heavy, thick clouds. The resort was covered in lush plants, birds and butterflies fluttering everywhere. He couldn’t wait to get settled, then head back out with his camera. He may even see a snake if he was lucky…

“Colin?”

His thoughts were broken by Penelope’s irritated tone. He frowned.

“Yes?”

“What name did they reserve yours under? There’s nothing for Colin or Bridgerton,” she informed him, clearly trying (and failing) to sound patient. It would be safer for all of them once she’d had some proper sleep, it seemed.

He ignored her tone and spoke directly to the receptionist.

“Sorry, it’s under Whistledown as well,” he said, smiling at the woman whose name badge said Shazza. Shazza looked amused.

“Only one room under that name, sweetheart,” she smiled sympathetically, but also like she thought maybe he was a bit thick.

“His company name is One Shot” Penelope added helpfully, like he was the kind of idiot who didn't know who he worked for.

“I know the name of my employer, Pen,” the nickname slipped out by accident and he hoped she didn’t notice. “They always book it under the writer’s account because they cover it,” he explained, trying not to be as condescending and infuriating as she was.

Penelope glared at him, clearly mad she didn't know this. Good. She fixed her face and looked back at Shazza, who was watching the exchange with clear amusement, eyes flicking back and forth like she was watching tennis.

“What name is on the room under Whistledown?” she asked politely, a far cry from how she’d been speaking to him. He tried not to scowl.

Shazza clicked a few more things before her eyebrows shot up into her fringe.

“Oh! Um, sorry love. There’s two names here. Penelope Featherington and Colin Bridgerton. Seems they’ve booked one room for the two of you,” she smiled apologetically and Colin sighed in relief while Penelope did the same.

“Oh great, thank you. So is it a two-bedroom suite then?” Penelope asked. Shazza looked sheepish.

“Sorry love, just one bedroom…”

Colin would have laughed if he wasn’t as concerned as she was at this information, her eyes closing like she was stopping herself from screaming.

“No problem,” she reassured the receptionist, and Colin was glad Penelope wasn’t directing her fury at this woman who was clearly just the messenger. Not that she ever would. “So two beds in one room?”

Shazza winced, shaking her head as she took two cards from behind the counter.

“Just one, sorry love. But it's a king!” she rushed to explain, “plenty of room.” Penelope stared at her, aghast.

Colin felt his stomach sink at the disgust on Penelope’s face. I mean, he couldn't expect otherwise, but still. It hurt. He cleared his throat.

“I’ll uh, pay for another room. I’ll get the company to reimburse me,” he rushed to pull out his credit card.

Shazza was wincing again, and he was beginning to think that even though she wasn’t the cause of all his pain, she was starting to have a suspiciously big part in it.

“No can do, love. It’s Christmas, we’ve been fully booked for months.”

Beside him, Penelope whimpered, and he agreed, for once. He sighed, just needing to do something, anything, so this moment with Shazza — the devil’s own messenger — ended.

“Alright, thank you anyway. We’ll figure something out,” he replied, trying to sound pleasant even as sweat dripped down his back and the thought of a week trapped in a room with someone who actively hated him rang in his head like a gong. Penelope glanced at him, chewing her lip, and nodded, and he was glad she didn’t seem to push back for once. Shazza also looked relieved, passing them their room keys and giving them directions to their room.

They headed there wordlessly, too tired and defeated to do anything but haul their luggage down the wooden walkways between the massive trees. Tinsel was wrapped around the pillars holding up the verandas, and Christmas trees stood at every corner, looking out of place in the heat. It was beautiful, though, and at least if he was avoiding his room he’d have plenty of time to explore.

Reaching the door of their suite, he swiped his card and held the door for Penelope to go through first. They both sighed in relief as the air conditioning hit them, cool and dry air a blessing after the mugginess of outside. The apartment was big, at least, with a small kitchenette, lounge area, laundry and bathroom. But sure enough, only one bedroom containing one (massive, it was true) bed. Through the glass doors was a patio that looked out over more greenery and a pool, and if the circumstances were different, Colin would be more than happy with the room.

But they weren’t different.

They stood in the small lounge just inside the door for a moment, probably both trying to figure out what to do first. Penelope spoke first.

“I know we should probably try to figure this mess out,” she waved around the room, “but I’m exhausted. I’m going to take a shower and a nap if…if that’s okay,” she added the last part hesitantly, clearly wishing she could just tell him she was sleeping. But she wouldn’t, because she was Penelope, and she wouldn’t want to do anything that would actually inconvenience him. He swallowed, hating and loving the change at the same time.

“Sure. I’ll…I’ll see if I can sort out something else for one of us,” he offered, judging himself for the way he immediately fell back into the habit of doing anything for her over the slightest sign of softness. Penelope looked relieved and nodded.

“Um…thanks,” she said uncertainly and he shrugged. If you weren’t so mean, we could be like this all the time, he wanted to snap. But he didn’t, because he was mature. Sometimes.

He put his bag down on one of the armchairs and grabbed his phone and room key again. To be honest, he was dying for a nap too, but he didn’t want her to think he was encroaching on her space just to be a dick. Plus, he really did want this room thing handled.

As Penelope took herself into the bedroom, he slipped out the front door again, hoping somewhere in the vicinity might have a spare room — shed, hammock, anything — for him.

~~~

It was nearly dark when Penelope woke up, and it took her a minute to remember where she was. She could hear animals of some kind — frogs? Crickets? Cicadas? Then she did, and she groaned. That’s right, the work trip from hell.

She felt much better, at least, the bed a soft and clean heaven after all day in the heat and around people. But she was starving. She stretched, her top shifting uncomfortably as she did, and she hoped to dear God Colin had managed to organise another room for himself, if only for the fact she wouldn’t have to sleep in a bra for the next week.

She eventually dragged herself out of bed and into the living area. There was no sign of Colin. She should call him. That would be hard, since she still didn't have the bastard's number. She winced internally, feeling bad for calling him that in her head. Oh no, the anger was wearing off. She needed to eat soon, clearly becoming weak in her hunger.

She wondered what the food options were like at the resort, switching on a light and starting to look for a menu or welcome guide of some sort when her eyes landed on the patio. Outside the sky was dark blue, the trees and vines silhouetted and covered in fairy lights. It looked beautiful, actually, and so different to anywhere she’d been before.

She walked out onto the patio, the warm air embracing her the second she opened the sliding door. It smelt glorious, like seasalt and flowers and coconut. The wind was stronger than it had been earlier, the clouds close and dark. She leant against the railing overlooking the resort and took a deep breath.

“Ahem.”

A voice came from behind her and she spun around, terrified. Then sighed in relief when she saw Colin sitting on one of the loungers further down the patio.

“Colin! You scared the shit out of me!” she accused, her heart still beating wildly. Colin cringed.

“Sorry, I didn’t want to wake you hanging around in the room,” he explained and she immediately felt guilty. Fuck.

“Oh…okay. Thanks.” She cleared her throat and he shifted on the chair.

“No luck finding a room, I’m afraid,” Colin said after a moment. “I called about twenty places…sorry,” Penelope felt even guiltier. She needed protein, stat.

“That’s okay,” she answered, shrugging. “I figured as much.”

She had. But she’d prayed to all the deities as well, just in case.

“I’ve been trialling the banana lounge,” Colin added with a wry smile, “but so far all I’ve gotten is eaten by mosquitoes and no sleep.”

Oh this was bad. Stop being nice, dick.

“It’s fine Colin. The bed really is big. It’ll be fine. And we’ll be so busy we’ll barely spend any time in the room anyway.” She would shout at Agatha about it later.

Besides, it was true. They had an itinerary that was jam-packed with activities from tomorrow until the day they left. Tomorrow they were heading to Port Douglas to meet with a team of climate scientists at their lab, and on Christmas Day they’d been invited to celebrate with the resort itself, the day packed with activities and a lunch at the nearby tavern. Then for the rest of the week they were heading out to the reef. Penelope would be surprised if she even got a chance to swim in the pool at this rate.

It was awkward for another moment before she remembered the biggest priority.

“I need food,” she said bluntly, and she thought she saw a ghost of a smile on Colin’s face. He nodded.

“Same,” he said and got up. “The resort has a restaurant, you want to order in?”

Penelope was surprised.

“They do that here?”

Colin smirked at her.

“Yes, Penelope, they have heard of takeaway food, even way out here in the colonies.”

She ground her teeth, annoyed at his answer but also annoyed, because it was maybe a little bit funny.

~~~

A couple of hours later, Penelope was back in bed, still recovering from all the travel but at least well-fed. She’d scurried away as soon as possible, figuring the sooner she went to bed the sooner she could pretend to be asleep. Their dinner had been weird and silent while they’d played on their phones and pretended to watch whatever what had been on TV. Lucky she was such a good actor, she’d ended up pretend-sleeping a lot more than she’d anticipated.

But now she was in bed, she was wide awake. It didn’t help that Colin had joined her not long afterwards, and she faced away as she heard him shower and climb into his side. It was insane, because the bed was gigantic. There was so much space between them. But she could hear him breathing, which felt far, far too intimate for someone she hadn’t spoken to in years.

Soon, though, she heard him snore softly and sighed in relief, relaxing finally. She could deal with unconscious Colin much easier than conscious Colin.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

~~~

Colin awoke to wind howling so loudly it shook the windows and he blinked a few times, struggling to remember where he was. It was disconcerting, and he never really got used to waking up in a foreign place, no matter how many times he had done it now. Even when he was home, there were those moments where he existed in a void, unable to remember who he was or where he was.

Slowly it came back to him though — Queensland — and he rolled onto his back carefully, his arm numb from sleeping on the same side. He tilted his face carefully to one side, trying to see if Penelope was awake without her catching him if she was. He sighed in relief when he saw her facing him, asleep (actually asleep, this time). He shouldn’t, but he took a moment to look at her anyway. Her face, without any guards up. Like it used to be.

His stomach twisted. He sighed again and stared up at the ceiling. No good would come from going down that path. It was nowhere he hadn’t been a million times before. The clock beside the bed said it was twenty minutes before they had to be up and getting ready for their first assignment, and he was glad he had a moment to himself before she woke up.

It was particularly grueling being around someone who didn’t like him, when he knew what it was like when she did like him. When he knew what it was like to see her smile and make her laugh and receive cuddles so warm he could easily curl up in them. It was like he needed every second he could get to build up his defences so she didn’t wreck him with her offhand comments and dismissive gestures. When it was quiet like this, there was nothing to distract him from his secret (he still missed her he still-).

Without his permission, his mind cast back, regret and hope swirling familiarly around. Maybe he had remembered it wrong. Maybe it wasn’t so bad. Maybe it was salvageable. As though he hadn’t gone through every scenario a hundred times. As though he would forget anything about that night for as long as he lived. As though the way she treated him now wasn’t direct proof of just how fucked up it had gotten between them, so, so quickly.

He was pretty sure he loved Penelope. No, not pretty sure. He knew that he did. He was young, and an idiot, but he knew that much. He had no idea what he wanted to do with his life, but he knew who he wanted to spend it with. And he saw no problems running towards it, full-pelt with no brakes, because that’s what he did.

It had just taken him so long to realise it, was the thing. He had time to make up for. He was twenty-three, just out of uni, and had realised it with all the gravity of a grand piano falling on him in the middle of the street. He had been thinking about how he was due to travel for work again in a week, and how much he would miss her. How he wished he could take her with him. How he wished he could take her everywhere.

Was that a weird thing to think about your best friend? He didn’t think so. She was just so…everything good. He wanted to pull her in and never let go. Hold her. Kiss her (kiss her?). Make love to her (make love to her?). He came to a stop on that London street, not because it wasn’t like he was learning something new, it was like he was remembering something he’d always known.

He loved her.

Of course he did.

What the fuck was he doing?

So he was going to tell her. That night. They were having a party for her birthday at Mondrich’s and she would be there and he would tell her-

“Morning.”

Penelope’s voice pulled him back to the present so suddenly it gave him whiplash, and he jumped, scared she would somehow see the inside of his mind where her face played on a projected loop for hours at a time. Even though he’d unplugged it and torn up the screen and thrown away the projector.

At least she was speaking to him.

“Morning,” he spoke cautiously, turning his head towards her to see her in the same position as before, only this time her eyes were open.

“What time is it?” she asked quietly, and he felt like weeping. It was like he had caught this brief window of time before she remembered she hated him, and he wanted to lie, to tell her it was nighttime (even though daylight was clearly coming in through the shades) and that she could go back to sleep. Maybe they could snuggle while she was at it?

“Nearly seven,” he answered instead, and she nodded, yawning.

Of all the times he’d imagined waking up next to her, this was never a possibility that crossed his mind. He wanted to reject it, because if he got to see the flush of her cheeks from sleep he wanted it because he earned it, not because of whatever the fuck was happening right now.

He looked at her for a moment longer than was necessary, because he was an idiot, when his phone rang, saving them all.

~~~

Penelope watched Colin answer his phone, the way he turned away to grab it off the bedside table then lay back down to talk.

She lay still, not wanting to move, not wanting to get up, not wanting to think.

Not because it was nice waking up next to Colin, not at all. But because she was tired. Tired from the travel. Tired from the time difference. Maybe a little tired of fighting with someone who used to be her favourite person in the world. It was too early to be hateful, she needed a coffee. Holding a grudge was such hard work, and she wasn’t cut out for it.

She watched Colin talk to whoever was on the other end of the phone, taking advantage of him being too distracted and letting her eyes scan his face. He was older, but still the same. Still unfairly handsome. Still kind, listening intently to whatever the person on the phone was saying. Still had eyes that were dark blue and that crinkled around the edges.

She frowned, making herself turn on her back and stare at the ceiling. She hadn’t let herself be soft like that about him in a long time. This was the danger of them being so close physically, there was no buffer. No time for her to build her walls up. Just eyes open and bam, the man who changed everything, in the worst way.

Maybe everything would change.

Maybe things would be different this time…

Was she an idiot? She started every day, every night, she spent with Colin thinking the same thing, and it never, ever was.

But still…

Something about tonight felt different.

She was at the bar, it was her birthday, and she felt good. And Colin kept looking at her like…like…

Like maybe things would be different this time.

She turned, drink in her hand provided by another overzealous Bridgerton, and returned to where Colin was, joined by Eloise who was needling him about something or other.

“...I’m just saying don’t do anything stupid, you’ve been acting weird towards her all night…”

“I won’t, God, can you get off my case?”

Penelope opened her mouth to ask what they were talking about, neither of them realising she was behind them yet, when Eloise snapped at him.

“No, actually I can’t. If you fuck this up I won’t forgive you and neither will she.”

“Fuck what up? We’re just friends. Always have been, always will be. I don’t see her like that.”

Pen felt sick, she backed up immediately. Stupid, stupid, she wasn’t supposed to care. This wasn’t supposed to be new information. She wasn’t supposed to have hope, for this exact fucking reason. She rushed to the door of the pub, wriggling through patrons, the venue crowded now the evening was getting later.

She was out on the street ordering an uber through blurry tears when she heard her name.

“Pen.”

Fuck fuck fuck she needed to get away from here. She felt like screaming, but instead she looked up, hoping her heartbreak didn’t show on her face.

He noticed immediately though, didn’t he? Because he was such a good friend. Her mind sneered the word.

“Pen, what’s wrong? Why are you leaving? Are you okay?”

The questions peppered her like an assault and she felt cornered, nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.

“Yeah, I’m fine, I’m fine,” she sounded ridiculous, convincing to exactly no one, but she was about to cry and this was the best she could manage.

“Pen,” Colin’s face was confused, and hurt, not used to her shutting him out. Not used to not getting what he wanted, her mind spat unfairly.

“No, it’s fine, I just…You didn’t have to say it like that.” The truth came out without her permission. Oh no, it was coming out. It was all coming out. Oh no.

“Say what?” Colin’s eyebrows furrowed and she wanted to shove him back in the bar, tell him if he couldn’t care for her like she cared for him, to just not bother at all (which wasn’t fair, not fair at all, but none of it was fucking fair).

“To El, about how you don’t see me that way,” she hissed, humiliation rolling off her in waves. Colin’s face went white, horror washing over his stupid perfect face.

“You heard that? Pen — no, you don’t understand-”

She cut him off, because she could not face a single ounce more of embarrassment.

“It’s fine, Colin, I don’t see you that way either,” she lied, trying desperately to cling to something, anything, even if that one thing was just her pride. “I just don’t get why you had to say it like it was such an insult.”

Colin stared at her for a moment, looking like he’d been punched. Probably never been told someone wasn’t attracted to him in his life.

“I- I-” he floundered for words and she watched him, wishing the ground would open up and swallow her.

“Pen…elope?”

Penelope blinked, the ceiling appearing in front of her eyes again as Colin called her nickname, then corrected himself. She felt herself blush, realising she’d allowed herself to return to that time without her own permission. She couldn’t afford to do that, especially not around him. She cleared her throat, turning her head to look at him. It was ridiculous, there truly was no casual way to talk to someone in bed next to you.

“I said that was Shazza,” he repeated himself, looking slightly concerned and she felt her heart rate pick up.

“Shazza?”

Oh, that’s right. Their friend at the front desk. Why was she calling them? Maybe she had found them another room? Her stomach swooped, with hope, she supposed.

“Yeah,” he nodded, propping himself up on his elbow, hair all messy from sleep. She swallowed. Fucking hell. She made herself concentrate.

“She says there’s a cyclone warning in place, it came in overnight. Cyclone Kim. It was off the coast but changed directions. Everywhere from Mackay to Cooktown is being told to prepare for it to hit sometime tomorrow…”

His face was worried, eyes flicking over her face while he waited for her to respond. She felt a flicker of panic in her chest at the news.

“Okay….” she waited for him to tell her what that meant.

“So, Shazza says there’s nothing to worry about, the resort has been cyclone-proofed and is up high, so there’s no risk of flooding. She did say we would make sure to get any supplies today though, since they’ll be sending the kitchen staff home, and we should prepare to stay inside for at least a couple of days from tomorrow.” He winced as he said it and she supposed he was waiting for her to freak out about them being locked in together for so long, but strangely the thought calmed her. At least she wouldn’t be alone.

She nodded, still not saying anything. Processing. Colin didn’t rush her, just chewed his lip before continuing.

“So everything’s cancelled, of course, at least until the 27th…so Christmas will be here I’m afraid…” he said gently, face sympathetic and she nodded, head swimming. She’d forgotten about Christmas completely. She swallowed.

“But…but we’ll be okay?” she asked, her voice wavering slightly. She couldn’t be bothered caring right now. Colin’s face softened and he nodded.

“Completely safe. The staff are tying everything down and the windows are completely storm-proofed. All we have to do is make sure we have enough food for the next few days and we’ll be fine.”

She nodded again, letting her heart rate return to normal. There’d been big storms in the UK, of course, the odd cold-snap, but a cyclone? It just sounded so big.

As if he could read her mind, Colin spoke quietly.

“I know it sounds big, but it’s only category 2 at this stage. All the warnings are just precautions, promise.” Penelope smiled a little, grateful. He was kind, and he wouldn’t let anything happen to them. Even if he didn’t like her, he would look after her. What a peculiar man he was. Good man, her mind murmured. He's a good man.

“Thank you,” she said, a little uncertain. A lot uncertain. She had no idea how to navigate this weird space they’d found themselves in.

He nodded, looking just as uncomfortable.

“Of course,” he murmured, voice rough. There was a pause, and Penelope shivered at the sound of the wind against the eaves of their room.

“We should probably get going,” he said gently and she found herself agreeing. She was keen to get anything they needed as soon as possible (that would reduce the risk of being blown away, right?). She would deal with the other scary reality (trapped in a room for days with him) later.

~~~

It was midday when they returned to the room, and Colin was relieved. They’d moved quickly and in tandem, almost, their weird truce providing enough middle ground for them to do what they needed to do efficiently.

While he worried a little about the cyclone, he’d had a little experience with them during his travels and trusted Shazza when she said they’d be fine. No, he was more concerned about the fact that he had at least two days, one of which was Christmas, alone with Penelope.

As the door clicked behind him, he took a deep breath. He was being dramatic. It wasn’t like they couldn’t leave the room, at least for now. Although it was pretty unpleasant already, wind whipping palm fronds across the paths and the roads deserted bar the odd person out for last-minute supplies like they were.

In the supermarket, he was sad Penelope’s first Aussie shop experience was overshadowed by the necessity of what they were doing. So instead of her marvelling over the different fruits and veggies like she might have done, she’d fixed her face with a determined frown that was definitely not adorable and looked between the shelves and the list they’d made in the car (Shazza had leant them hers, trooper that she was).

Again, Colin felt twisted between the undeniable sense of rightness to be near her again (which was wrong, he kept reminding himself), and the tension of it being like this. Something so domestic, like shopping for groceries, done as worse than strangers. Something so intimate, like making provisions, done with someone he couldn’t pull into his arms when all the colour drained from her face this morning. What unique torture, he mused, as he made room in the trolley for the snacks Penelope had just picked out.

Truthfully, he could have done the whole thing himself, her tastes didn’t seem to have changed at all. But he didn’t want to go down the awkward conversation rabbithole of why he would do that for her (because she was scared, he knew before they left and he knew it twice as much as she glanced worriedly at the sky as they made their way from the resort to the shop), why he knew those things at all (because of love, of course, but she wasn’t supposed to know that), and why on earth he still remembered it (he also didn’t want to know the answer to this question).

Instead he pushed the trolley behind her, directing her around the store when that little line between her brows that meant she was confused appeared. They exchanged the odd word about which brand they preferred, if he’d tried something before and if it was good, and noting things they’d missed but should get anyway “just in case”. Looking at their cart, Colin thought they could comfortably last a couple of weeks at least, but he didn’t say anything. So long as it made her feel more comfortable, he was happy. Or satisfied, maybe that was a better word.

They’d gone through the checkout quickly, Colin grateful for the cashier’s cheery demeanor despite the fact the shelves were emptying quickly and it was so dark outside it made it feel like nighttime inside the store under the fluorescents. She was probably used to it, Colin supposed, the teenager chatting away with Penelope about how this meant she could finish early today. Colin was glad to see the smile on Pen’s (-elope’s) face in response and paid the girl with a grateful grin of his own. Leave it to the Australians to find the bright side in a tropical cyclone.

Now they were back, unloading their arms of boxes full of groceries onto the counter and kitchen table. It was so quiet, just the sound of the wind in the trees outside and the hum of the air-conditioner. They packed away the food silently, moving in a quiet ease that was more natural than it should be, but still a far cry from anything they’d been like in the past.

Finally they were done and they stood awkwardly for a moment.

“Well….I’m going to read my book?” Penelope ended it like a question and he nodded, understanding her hesitancy. What a fucking weird situation they’d found themselves in.

“Sure…do you mind if I watch TV?” It was a small space, and it wasn’t exactly balcony weather. She shook her head, heading over to where her kindle sat on the side table.

“Go for it.”

“Thanks,” he replied, even though inside he wanted to scream. Even when they were sniping at each other it was more comfortable than this.

He plopped down on the couch as she sat at the kitchen table, looking for something to watch. He felt wound too tightly, very self-conscious of the fact that Penelope would be able to see anything he picked. Turning the volume as low as it would go without being silent, he tapped through the channels.

The thing is, he didn’t want to pick something they used to watch together, and honestly he really didn’t watch much TV these days. Everything he liked was stained by memories of them on the couch together on the weekend, bowls of popcorn and wine.

Sport, an old movie, a renovation show, it all flicked past and he sighed.

He should just pick what he wanted to watch and watch that, he told himself. He was overthinking this to devastating proportions.

Real Housewives of Beverly Hills was on, and it was a good one too, the dinner party in Amsterdam, but he flicked away quickly, hoping she didn’t notice. RHOBH had been their hangover show.

How did it get so twisted? This was torture.

Colin felt like he’d been punched.

So that was it then. She didn’t feel the same.

He tried to scramble, save the moment. She was upset, he had to fix that. He could deal with his own feelings later.

“I-I-” he stuttered, trying to think of something to say that wouldn’t reveal the truth he now realised she could never know. Not if he wanted to keep her.

“It’s fine, Colin.” He didn’t recognise her like this, pushing back against him, pushing him away. No, no, no. She wasn’t supposed to do that to him. “I don’t know why I expected different.”

It was a throwaway comment, but at that moment, after everything else, it was too much, desperation and despair washing over him.

“What does that mean?”

Penelope stared at him hard for a moment.

“Just that I’m sure you’re not used to thinking of anyone other than yourself.”

Another punch, and this time he swore he felt his vision swim. Did she really think that?

He recoiled, horrified.

“Where the fuck is that coming from? I said I didn’t see you that way so now I’m a selfish prick?” The words tumbled out quickly, before he could check them carefully against the part of him that stopped him from being a selfish prick, or so he thought. Penelope’s glare could have cut glass.

“It’s got nothing to do with how you see me, Colin, and everything to do with how you treat everyone around you,”

“Bluey?” Penelope’s amused voice cut through his thoughts.

Colin stared at her, stunned for a minute before realising she was talking about the TV. It had landed on Bluey while his mind had drifted off.

“What?” he replied defensively. He had seen the odd episode with his nieces and nephews, and enjoyed it far too much. Maybe not enough to be watching it alone, but still. “Bluey is the best.”

Penelope smirked, and it was almost amicable.

“No, no, you’re fine. Just didn’t know you were such a fan.”

She cleared her throat and went back to her book, and Colin resisted the urge to teasingly ask her what she was reading that was so highbrow for her to judge, to turn the exchange into banter. But they didn’t do that anymore, and his sore heart wouldn’t cope with the rejection well, he already knew. So he just watched Bluey follow her mother’s pawprints up the beach instead. This was a good episode at least.

~~~

He wasn’t making it easy. Or rather, he was making it too easy. Because she wanted to hate him, to stoke the fiery rage in her belly with new fodder, but it was like he was deliberately trying to be the best guy in the world, just like she remembered. That’s the thing, though. He wasn’t trying. And that made it worse.

The way he’d reassured her as she’d reacted to the news, knowing when she needed comfort before she did. But never crossing any lines — just kind, warm yet not overly familiar — words. It made her want to scream. She knew what it was like to be pulled into those arms, to feel comforted by words whispered against her hair, not from across a shopping trolley.

She had fucking missed him. It was easier to forget how much when he wasn’t around, but this? This was torture.

Then there was the way he’d just taken…care of everything. Not because he felt like he should, not because he was trying to show her he could. Just because it was who he was. Effortlessly reminding her of what she lost without even fucking trying.

And now he sat, sprawled on the sofa, pretending to watch cartoons because he was too thoughtful to dare put on anything she wouldn’t like, or that they’d once enjoyed together. She was trying to concentrate on her book, but it was hard. It wasn’t as interesting as she’d found it before she started sharing a space with Colin Bridgerton. Nothing ever was.

She sighed, realising she’d once again “read” a page without so much as absorbing a word. Maybe she would go nap. That wasn’t a very good long-term solution though. She couldn’t just sleep for the next three days, like a hibernating bear. She wished she could.

She began the page again, not at all distracted by the way Colin snorted softly at something Bingo said on the TV.

Are you sure it’s not salvageable? her heart whispered, like she hadn’t gone over things a hundred times. Even if she didn’t feel like that about him when he never would — resulting in a friendship so painful she wouldn’t be able to sustain it without actively hating herself — he had still said what he said. And she’d said what he’d said.

It echoed in her ears, even now.

“It’s got nothing to do with how you see me, Colin, and everything to do with how you treat everyone around you,” Complete nonsense, she was speaking, but she didn’t care, she needed him to leave her alone.

“And how is that? Jesus fuck, Pen, I thought we were friends.”

His face twisted in hurt but this was what needed to happen because if he couldn’t love her then she couldn’t love him, it was killing her. She pulled at that thread, that niggling detail and ripped, letting everything unravel with it in a mess that didn’t make sense to even her.

“Right, and would a friend be so offended at the mere thought of being attracted to someone like me?” she spat, vocalising her biggest fear. Not just that he didn’t like her that way, but that he would think it ludicrous for anyone to even suggest it. A fear that now proved to be true.

“I don’t know, would a friend be so offended that I’m not attracted to them?” Colin shot back, and it hurt, oh it hurt. She stepped back, rage boiling in her blood even as her stomach turned sickeningly.

“So what, you just assume that because I have tits I must be in love with you?”

“What?! That's not what I said! I just don't know why you’re reacting like this to a passing comment,” Colin looked at her like she was insane, and it killed her, the way that she had been insane for this man every day for years, and he had wandered into her madness for only a few minutes, yet thought he could tell her that her reactions were anything but justified.

“If you don’t know why it wasn’t just a passing comment, then I don't know why we’re even friends,” she hissed, because really. Did he not know her at all? Not know that not being chosen was not only her reality, but her worst fucking nightmare?

“Oh yes, because Penelope just loves to think everyone thinks the worst of her. God forbid someone misspeaks in front of her. Now she can use that as proof she was right all along.”

Colin’s voice was sneering, unrecognisable, face crumpled in disgust. At her, she realised. It hurt so much.

“Are you fucking serious?’

“Yeah I am. Just because you think so shittily of yourself doesn't mean everyone else does, Jesus.”

And it sounded like a good thing to say, almost, but it fucking wasn’t, because he was shining a light on that part they’d both agreed to keep hidden. It was written right into the contract of being friends with Penelope Featherington.

“Oh yes, please tell me what’s wrong with me Dr Colin, I’m dying to know what I could do to be considered a viable match for someone like Colin Bridgerton.” Sarcasm drenched her tone, her last defence as years of love, devotion, dreams, fell to dust inside her.

“Please, you don’t need my help,” he shot back bitterly, “You know damn well the only thing repelling men from you is your own fucking self-esteem.”

So there it was. What Colin Bridgerton really thought of her. Not only a far cry from what she’d never dared to dream (but still had, stupidly), but far worse than anyone she would have ever let see this much of her. Shooting her would have hurt less.

“I see.”

She needed to leave, fuck getting an Uber, she would fucking walk.

“Pen-”

“No, it's okay. Thank you for finally being honest,” she said, feeling numb. Numb was good. Numb would stop her from throwing up on the street.

“I’m sorry,” he said, voice pleading, but she hardened her heart. It was time to stop this, once and for all. She would not soften to this man, or anyone, again. She levelled her gaze at him.

“Or maybe I’m doing just fine, since I haven’t attracted a shallow asshole who spends their trust fund looking for meaning because they’ve got nothing better to do.”

Colin stared at her, not saying anything for a moment. When he did speak, it was quiet.

“That's what you think of me?”

Penelope didn’t hesitate to lie, because how else would she save herself? How else would she walk away and survive?

“Yes.”

“Then why are we friends?” Colin asked, pain in his eyes that she refused to register.

Penelope shrugged. Colin nodded, taking a shaky breath, before he spoke.

“Bye, Penelope,” he said, and left her there on the street.

She swallowed hard, horrified that the words on her kindle had blurred with unshed tears. She had said what she said out of hurt, needing to have some kind of defence against this one-sided love, one she could no longer carry alone, and she would bear the guilt of that for all time. It was for the best, she told herself. This way he could walk away with no regrets.

But the things he had said? Taken her biggest insecurities and used them against her? He had no reason to lie, and so it was for the best that they were not friends. An act of self-preservation, if that was what he really thought of her.

Even though those words flew in the face of everything she thought she knew about him.

Even if they were at complete odds with the way he behaved, even now, when he supposedly didn’t care for her. He was still concerned about her. As a human being, because that was how he treated everyone, right? Why should that be so impressive? Was it that so many people had failed to do so in her life? Or that his standard for treating people was so high (except that one time)? She supposed she was shocked he believed the nonsense she spewed at him that night in desperation, when it was so clearly anything but the truth.

Even though she would have forgiven those words (and maybe already had), if the pretense of a grudge wasn’t the only thing stopping her from letting herself be sucked into the swirling vortex that was loving Colin Bridgerton.

She sighed, starting the page again. How the fuck was she supposed to do this?

~~~

It was a few hours later, and Colin had managed to put something grown-up on TV (a quiz show which was decidedly not as good as Bluey), when there was a knock at the door.

He looked up at Penelope, who was staring at him with wide eyes.

“I’ll get it, it’s probably Shazza.”

He hoped he sounded reassuring and she nodded, swallowing. She was wound so fucking tight, it was all he could do not to pull her onto his lap (he would just be so good at relaxing her, he was certain. He’d thought about it enough times).

Sure enough, Shazza was at the door, hair whipping around her as she grinned cheerily at him.

“Just doing the last rounds, they’re saying she’ll hit tonight instead, she’s moving faster than they thought. You guys got everything you need?”

She peered past Colin and he realised that Penelope was now standing at his shoulder, and he resisted the urge to put his arm around her. Instead he nodded.

“Yeah, yeah thanks. We really appreciate everything you’ve done,” he said emphatically. He hated to think what would've happened if the staff had been less caring, what with Penelope already worried as it was.

“No worries at all, love. Now, just remember, stay inside. If the power goes out there’s a backup generator that’ll keep the fridge and some emergency lights going — no air-con though. There’s candles but don’t burn the place down. You probably won’t need anything, but if there’s an emergency call triple zero, yeah?”

Colin nodded, unable to stop himself from letting his arm brush against Penelope’s slightly, hoping she realised this was all just a precaution.

“It’s on the fridge, anyhow,” Shazza smiled warmly, “but you won’t need it. Just in case! Alright, I gotta get going, I've gotta a few guests yet to go. Stay safe guys and Merry Christmas,” she added, and Colin smiled back.

“Thanks Shazza, you too,”

“Yeah, Merry Christmas,” Penelope’s voice chimed in and he looked down at her to see her smiling at the woman warmly, despite the tightness around her eyes. What he wouldn’t do for one of those smiles, he thought. It was physically painful. And against his human rights, maybe.

As they shut the door after her, they looked at each other for a moment.

Fuck it, he wanted to say. Come here. Let me hold you and kiss you and tell you everything will be okay. And then when you go back to London leave my mangled heart here and I’ll still thank you. Let me comfort you. Let me be there for you. Let me love you.

His thoughts, so loud he felt like she must be able to hear them, swirled in chaos. This was terrible. So terrible. He was already losing his mind and it had been less than four hours.

In front of him, Penelope wrapped her arms around herself (like he wanted to), her hand absent-mindedly playing with where their skin had touched, however briefly.

“Okay…well I guess this is it,” she laughed hollowly and he nodded.

“You okay?” he couldn’t stop himself from asking, and she looked shocked, then annoyed.

“Yes,” she said firmly and he admonished himself. This was why he was keeping his distance, he reminded himself. Same reason you keep your hands behind the bars at the zoo.

He watched her walk back to her spot at the table (she was too stubborn to join him in the lounge, even though it would be miles more comfy there), and wondered if he was an idiot for wanting to climb into the enclosure even if it meant he’d be eaten alive.

~~~

This was so bad. One brush of his skin on hers and she had to physically restrain herself from curling up in his arms.

It was hard enough resisting him when they had been friends, when things had been as they used to be. But like this? When she’d missed him so much it hurt, and she felt so vulnerable she could burst into tears at any moment?

As she sat at the dining table, stiff from the chair, she looked at the couch next to him longingly. She could sit there and not talk to him, she reasoned, even as her rational brain called her a big fat liar.

She got up, needing to find some way to soften the segue so she didn’t look like a guilty puppy sneaking into the bed next to its owner. She was hungry, so she dug in the cupboard before pulling out a bag of crisps. It was darker now, evening settling in under the clouds and she flicked on the kitchen lights. She also grabbed herself a juice before the core of who she was as a person spoke, unable to be contained.

“Did you want anything?” she called, and she bet it was confusing for him to see her offer that while looking positively thunderous at the same time.

Colin looked shocked for a second, then smiled a little.

“I’ll take some biscuits if it’s not too much trouble?” he answered cautiously, and she nodded tightly. She would bake him seven batches naked in the cyclone and it wouldn’t be too much trouble, probably. She grabbed a packet of Timtams, something she’d watched curiously as he’d put multiple packets in the trolley, and headed over to the lounge.

Ignoring how he watched her carefully out of the corner of his eye, she sat on the far end of the couch — the size of it meaning there was still only about a foot between them. She passed him his biscuits and he murmured a thank you.

She had brought her Kindle, not wanting to do anything crazy like watch TV together, and felt her body relax. If she was going to pretend to read, she may as well be comfortable. Then stifled a groan as she realised her Kindle was about to die, the battery symbol flashing in front of her before promptly turning black.

Dare she pretend to read her dead Kindle? No, right? That actually was insane. Sighing, she placed the useless thing on the table next to the couch, reminding herself to charge it next time she got up.

On television, Colin was watching a cooking show, an Australian one. At least she thought that’s what it was. The screen kept flicking between a couple stressing out over prawns in the kitchen and a larger group bitching at each other over a dinner table. It looked pretty good, she had to admit.

She was just learning who Jackson was, and why everyone hated him, when the screen went blank and the hum of the air-con stopped. The lights also died, leaving them in dark silence save the howling of the wind outside.

Penelope froze, a gasp on her lips. In a second Colin’s hand was on her arm and she moved so her hand could clasp his, too scared to remember why on earth she wouldn’t want comfort from the person who was safest in the world, even now.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, Shazza said this might happen, remember? We’ll light some candles, we’ll be fine.” Colin’s voice was low and soothing, and she nodded, swallowing a lump in her throat.

She tried to steady her breathing, focusing on the feeling of Colin’s big hand around hers, warm, steady, grounding. He didn’t say anything, just waited, holding her hand right back, making no move to come closer or further away. They sat like that for a few minutes, and she felt her heart rate slow a little, even if she still jumped with every loud bang from outside the apartment.

“I’m going to light some candles, okay?” Penelope looked at Colin’s face, only able to make out the vague shape in the dark. He stared at her intently, and she knew if she asked him to stay he would. But she wouldn’t. She nodded, releasing his hand reluctantly.

Colin squeezed her hand once more before he stood and made his way to the drawer where they’d found the candles when they were putting the food away. She watched as he placed some of them around in different positions of the apartment, lighting them as he went. Watched him put most of them back, in case they needed more later. Watched him place torches where they could reach them easily and check that the fridge was still working.

He drew the blinds and she felt immediately better, now she couldn’t see the shapes of trees whipping back and forth against the sky. Like they were safe and hidden, somehow.

As she calmed down, she felt herself spiral for different reasons instead.

This was bad. They had held hands. There were candles now. He was big and strong and warm and Colin and it was all she could do not to crawl into his arms and never let go. She needed to stop this. Needed to put back some of that distance before she got pulled past the point of no return. Because to be friends with him was to love him, they were unable to be separated in her mind, and she would not survive losing him twice. She just wouldn’t.

~~~

Colin watched the last candle he’d taken out carefully, making sure it wasn’t near anything flammable and lit it, the soft glow adding to the others so that the room was fairly well lit.

Then he pulled down the blinds, not sure if it would make a difference but deciding it wouldn’t hurt. They could still hear the wind outside, but they didn’t have to see how powerful it was.

He approached the couch cautiously, well aware that the hand-holding had been a rare moment of softness that he’d no doubt pay for now. He couldn’t bring himself to regret it, he’d hold onto that moment til the day he died. Her small hand, cold in his, squeezing his so tight. The way she’d found him, that for one moment she'd sought him out, even if it was in a panic, even if he could’ve been anyone. He’d take it.

He sat back at his end of the couch, Penelope still where he left her, arms crossed and chewing her lip. She looked calmer. Overthinking and stressed, but not as panicked.

“Better?” he asked, hoping she would at least tell him if she needed anything. Don’t let your pride take this from me, he wanted to beg. I’ve lost so much already.

She nodded shakily.

“Sorry,” she muttered and he wanted to cry. No, not sorry, he wanted to argue, insanely. Never be sorry, do it more!

But instead he said nothing, nodding.

What the fuck did they do now? Two people who barely spoke, with no entertainment to speak of.

The silence stretched, and there was a bang as something hit the building, making them both jump. Penelope’s hands were gripping the skin of her arms though, and he realised he needed to do something to distract her.

“So, how long have you been doing overseas assignments?” he tried to ask casually, like he wasn’t breaking their unspoken rule. Like he hadn’t been dying to ask her this and everything since the second he’d seen her, scowling at him in the coffee shop. The look she gave him was withering and he hated that he loved that. Hated that he loved receiving any reaction from her that wasn’t indifference.

“Does it matter?” she snapped, and he sighed, half relieved she wasn't too scared to be bitchy, half disappointed that he’d been right, and he was indeed paying for the hand holding.

You held my hand first, he wanted to argue.

“I’m just making conversation,” he replied, hands up defensively. “There’s nothing else to do,” he added, hoping reason might work (it never had before, but you never know).

She huffed and he could see the cogs turning in her mind. She was even more beautiful by candlelight, for God’s sake. It was like this entire situation had been designed specifically to torture him. What did it say about him that he was both impressed and grateful for the excruciating opportunity.

“This is my first one,” she said finally, begrudgingly and he nodded, suppressing the urge to cheer.

“That’s rough,” he joked half-heartedly, and she snorted in agreement. When she didn’t continue, he left it alone. He wasn’t going to make her talk to him.

Smack.

Something hit the glass on the patio, and Penelope gave a small cry. Before he could process it, he was next to her, hand on her arm again.

“It’s okay, the glass is proofed, remember?” he murmured and she nodded, but he could see that she was shaking and he was an idiot because he was climbing into the exhibit.

He circled his arms around her, pulling her close and God it felt good. Finally, finally, every cell in his body sang.

He held her against his chest, one hand cradling her head and the other rubbing her back, and he kept murmuring — nonsense about how it was going to be okay, and she was safe and he wasn’t going anywhere. He felt her breath coming in short bursts and he held her tighter, trying to hold her together. He felt her arms slowly move until they were around his neck and she clung to him right back, and he could have wept.

They stayed like that for a while, no sounds except their heartbeats and breaths, mingling and indistinguishable against the backdrop of the storm outside. Colin held on, as tight as he could, to the woman he never stopped loving and this moment, like maybe he could stop it from ending.

~~~

This was very bad.

This was the best thing in the entire world.

She was afraid for her life.

She had never felt more safe.

She was going to die tonight, but whether from the cyclone or from Colin Bridgerton, she wasn’t sure yet. She daren’t move, too scared to move, to disrupt this moment that she didn’t want to end. She could smell him, feel him, and it was like being electrocuted and sedated at once. His body, firm and big, wrapped around her, even though she was being so mean to him. She didn’t deserve him, even now.

In a very real way, she was terrified, every bang and slam making her jump out of her skin. But it was like he insulated her, made her feel like it could not reach her in a way the walls and roof of the apartment could not. Which was scary in a whole new way. So even as her heart slammed in her chest, she breathed him in deeply and just hovered in the present a little longer, not willing to deal with anything beyond the moment where she could pretend his arms were somewhere she belonged.

His hands rubbed her back in slow, sweeping circles, soothing and electrifying all at once. Into her hair he mumbled things she only half heard, secrets between him and the top of her head. Even when they were friends, they’d never done this. Never been this close. This was unchartered territory, just like everything on this fucking trip.

He was just so warm. And it wasn’t like it was cold. In fact, without the air-con, the air was heavy, thick, confusingly so for the amount of rain pouring down outside. But still she craved his heat, wanting more.

She nuzzled closer, and with horror realised she’d hummed contentedly at the same time. Colin didn’t react, probably scared she’d snap again, and guilt twisted in her stomach. He didn’t realise she was doing it for both of them.

She should stop this. Lean away. Say something mean. Make him hate her too much to care if she was scared. How mean do you have to be to stop Colin Bridgerton from caring about you? Quite a lot, it seemed.

She’d be damned if it didn’t make her love him more.

She wanted to weep in his arms as the realisation washed over her. It was not a surprise, rather a truth she’d been avoiding. But yes. Was there a planet where she didn’t love the man holding her now? Probably not.

Against her ear, Colin’s chest rumbled as he sighed and it hurt. It ached. How was she supposed to survive this moment, knowing every second longer she stayed would ruin her all the more, while knowing there was nowhere she’d rather be.

She gulped. She was brave and strong, she could end a cuddle, for God’s sake. She pulled her hands back slightly, starting to move away when Colin spoke, louder than the murmurs he had been speaking to her in so far.

“Don’t.”

Pen frowned, trying to lean back so she could see his face, not understanding, but his arms held her to him. Had she hurt him?

“Colin-” she began, about to ask him what was happening when he spoke again.

“Please. You can hate me again in a minute, but just can we — can you…stay?” His voice was gruff and Penelope was amazed at the emotion in it. She tilted her head up to look at him and he was already looking down at her, eyes glistening and brows pulled tight into an expression that almost looked like…need.

She swallowed, feeling herself nod. The relief on his face was…astounding. It surely matched her own. She had told herself she must extract herself from this situation, but if staying was a favour to him, who was she to deny him?

As the wind howled outside she shivered, unable to stop herself from murmuring.

“I don’t hate you.”

Colin’s eyes brimmed with tears and he was not real, this man holding her in the candlelight, desperate for her to not hate him. As if she ever could.

She didn’t have any answers, and she didn’t particularly want any right now. Instead she tucked her head back into his chest and closed her eyes.

~~~

Colin didn’t know what he was doing. It was like his body had staged a mutiny against his mind, led by his traitorous heart. All he knew was when she began to move away, he couldn’t let her go. He would, but he just needed one more second.

Imagine his surprise when she gave him so much more than that. Now they sat, quietly in the candlelight, breathing together.

I don’t hate you she had said, and he nearly broke down in sobs right there.

He didn’t know how long they stayed like that, holding each other, but long enough that his stomach rumbled, protesting the lack of Timtams after being promised them a good while ago now.

Penelope gave a little laugh and he felt his heart try to burst through his chest. Her laugh. At him. That he heard with his skin before he did with his ears.

She leaned back a little, and this time he let her, albeit reluctantly.

“You should eat, Colin,” she said quietly, and it was there, right there, that sound he’d missed so much. His name on her lips without the venom, just the pure unadulterated sweetness honeyed with nothing more than the natural shape of her mouth. He cleared his throat lest he cry, and tried a laugh himself.

“I guess,” he replied, his voice croaky from emotion.

She pulled away, untangled her arms from him and took a deep breath, like she’d been sleeping and just awoken. He watched her warily, wondering if this would be the moment she switched back, that they switched back. He wasn’t sure he could take it. She looked calmer though, at least there was that.

“You okay?” he asked and she nodded, looking a little embarrassed. Don’t be, ever, he wanted to beg her.

“Yeah…thanks…” she trailed off, like she didn’t know what to say, where to look. Her and him both.

He reluctantly let go of her completely, standing and clearing his throat.

“Snacks won’t cut it, I don’t think. Let’s have dinner.”

He waited for her to argue but she just nodded, and he just could not stop wanting to cry.

~~~

Penelope decided not to ask questions, especially those which she didn’t want answers to. Like what on earth was happening, and what this meant. No, that was a problem for someone else (future her). It was like they’d entered a bubble where for a brief moment in time, they could be friends again. She wasn’t about to risk bursting it with insignificant things like logic and self-preservation.

So she drained the pasta in the dim light of the nearby candles as Colin stirred the sauce on the stove. They didn’t speak much, but it wasn’t loaded like it was earlier, it was a gentle silence. A comfortable one. One she could curl up and sleep in.

Outside the storm carried on, and apart from jumping at the odd bang, Penelope felt more steady now, becoming used to it. Next to her she could hear Colin humming softly to himself and she smothered a smile. He had always been a musical chef.

They ate at the table, a wonky candle between, and still they didn’t speak. Just the odd comment about the food and exchanged shy smiles. Penelope was terrified of entering anything heavier than skin-deep, because all of that lurked there. Their shared history, and most of all that night. She wondered if the reason he avoided it was the same as hers.

It was like they had both missed each other so much that they would pretend there was a world where they could still be like this, even if the horrible reality was so obvious it loomed over them the entire time. Just a few hours wouldn’t hurt surely (yes it would but it was worth it surely).

Penelope finished her meal with a sigh, feeling more satisfied than she could remember in years. It was delicious. She looked up at Colin who was watching her across the table, the candle’s flame not hiding the intensity of his stare, his plate clear and him leaned back in his chair.

She met his gaze and made herself not look away. She wondered what he was thinking. Wondered if he knew what she was thinking. So many things that could be solved with words, but the stakes were too high. What if they weren’t the right ones?

There was a thud outside and she flinched slightly, looking towards the covered glass doors.

Feeling brave, she stood and made her way to the patio doors, shifting the blinds so she could look outside. To her surprise it wasn’t as dark as she thought it might be, the clouds lit up with orange greyness she had never seen before. The palms beyond the balcony were whipped so furiously they were bent almost in half. Somehow the fairy lights were still working, the resulting effect bizarre and surreal. She watched in fascination as dead palm fronds, leaves and sticks skittered across the sky.

Suddenly she felt Colin behind her, and she opened the blinds more so he could see too.

“It’s crazy,” she murmured and when he didn’t reply, she looked up at him to find him already looking at her.

“Do you-” she started to ask a question that she immediately forgot as Colin placed his hand gently on her jaw and kissed her.

~~~

It wouldn’t hold — this peace treaty they’d drafted. He knew it, and even if she didn’t admit it to herself yet, she knew it too.

Once the storm was over, maybe even before that, reality would creep up and it would be back to the way it was before. Colin thought desperately as he cooked and ate, how he might preserve it somehow, but he couldn’t. It was as delicate as a raindrop, and it would evaporate once morning came, or be washed away in something bigger, something it had no hope of remaining intact within.

So, as he cleared his plate and let himself watch her like he’d been dying to, he wondered what else he might do now that it was clear he only had so long with her like this, with them like this. How else he might savour it.

It made him reckless, living on borrowed time.

Made him stand, go to her before he could process that was what he was doing. Made him inhale her, deeply, like an animal, before she even knew he was there. Made him look down at those gorgeous blue eyes looking up at him and drop his mouth to hers as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

It was.

He waited a beat, waiting for her to respond. Expecting her to push him away yet hoping she wouldn’t. So when she opened her mouth to him he lost it all, mind blank as he kissed her like he’d been wanting to since he met her, like he’d been dying to.

He pulled her to him then, the blinds dropping back against the window with a bang as he pulled her up and closer so he could kiss her more thoroughly. Her breath was ragged as she met each of his kisses with her own, like she had been needing this as much as he had. Fuck it, maybe he would believe she had. What did he have to lose?

Her hands came up around his neck as his dropped to cup her ass, lifting her with a grunt as she gasped into his mouth. He consumed her, kissing her so hard it was surely bruising both of them, and she did the same, her tongue meeting his and making him groan.

Drunk on her he staggered to the bedroom, the door slamming back against the wall as he opened it with a shove, blindly feeling his way around. He had left a candle in the bedroom, and he was glad, knowing he could kiss her in candlelight like he’d imagined so many times, because yes, he was that obsessed, and there really weren't many scenarios he hadn’t imagined them together, but he was partial to the more romantic ones. Sue him.

She was clinging to him, back arching into him and breasts pushed against his chest as she kissed him, little whines escaping her mouth as she did, driving him absolutely wild. He wasted no time laying them on the bed, lowering her while he kissed her into the mattress. Now she was his, his (she wasn’t but he was going to pretend), and he made his way down her neck, kissing and sucking marks into her, so she would remember him, fuck, she had to remember him.

She was panting, hands in his hair now, holding him to her, and it was so close to feeling like she needed this too. His hands moved up her sides, bunching up her shirt, the fabric sticking to her skin with the humidity. He moved back, eyes on her, waiting for her to meet his gaze, asking her for permission. She understood immediately (because she always did she was perfect she was his and she was perfect why couldn’t she be his she was perfect) and nodded quickly, dropping her hands to the hem of her shirt to assist.

Closing his hands over hers he gently peeled up the fabric, moving down her body so he could follow as closely as possible with his mouth. He kissed up her belly, licking up the salty sweat and caressing the softness around her belly button. He took his time, savouring every inch, every flavour, licking and sucking hickeys into her skin like a madman while she watched him with wide eyes, breath ragged and bottom lip in her mouth.

He made his way up, not waiting to push up her shirt, shoving his head under it to make his way up to her breasts, the small amount of space suffocating him deliciously, the noises of him snuffling against her bra ridiculous and frantic.

Penelope huffed, apparently not happy with the new arrangement, lifting her shirt over her head herself, and Colin was grateful. Now he could see and breathe in ways that hadn’t seemed important a few seconds ago. A rivulet of sweat ran between her breasts and he lapped it up eagerly, feeling absolutely deranged but unable to stop himself. He wanted it all.

He rubbed his face between her breasts, hands coming up to cup her, squeeze her. He pulled down the cups, too impatient to fiddle with the clasp. He moaned as she popped out, his hands grasping and pulling at nipples. He latched onto one immediately with his mouth, sucking and giving the odd nip as she writhed above him. Oh, it was so advantageous that she liked this, he could not stop himself from consuming her if he tried.

He tugged at her, sucking bruises into her skin, nibbling and tracing patterns with his tongue (her name and his but no one needed to know that). Her hands were in his hair again, gripping him and digging her nails into his scalp whenever he did something in particular she liked. He noted it all carefully, one part of his mind not fogged with lust carefully cataloguing every whimper and movement she made.

Suddenly he had more space and he realised that she’d unclipped her bra and removed it, and he hummed his thanks, too hazy with want to be able to deal with practicalities like undressing. His hands dropped to her belly again, stroking and caressing while he kissed her breasts, her collarbones, her neck. It wasn’t enough, he needed more.

He let his hands drift further down to her shorts, kissing his way back to her mouth via her jaw.

“Hmm?” he asked, words failing him as he paused at her buttons and she hummed her assent, nodding once more, finding his lips and kissing him back frantically. It was so fortunate she seemed as urgent as he was, because he couldn’t slow, couldn’t be calm about this, not at all.

His fingers worked the button through its hole, then slid down the fly, breaking their kiss so he could look between them to see the triangle of flesh appear between the two sides of the fabric as it opened. Kissing her once more, hard, he slid back down the bed until his face was level with her hips, and he could smell her arousal, her sweat, her Penelopeness, and Jesus Christ he was going to die.

He pulled the shorts down roughly, hoping she realised it wasn’t lack of care that caused him to act like this but sheer desperation. Her underwear, black and lacy, went next, but not before he shoved his face into the front of them, inhaling deeply as she took a shuddering breath above him.

Then they were gone, and he was shoving his face in the real thing, her curls tickling his nose and mouthed at her, acquainting himself. She smelt so fucking good, like the ocean and dessert, and he spent a few moments just breathing, making her squirm as he inhaled and exhaled into her.

Then he opened his mouth and began to feast, tongue exploring her, lapping at her, licking up every trace of wetness he could find, and there was a lot. Normally so thorough and contained in bed, now he was sloppy, led by nothing but the need to taste every part he could find. He licked her lips, plunging his tongue into her entrance, reaching as deep as he could while he used his hands to hold her to him, fingers gripping her asscheeks so firmly he knew he’d bruise her there too.

Fucking good.

He hadn’t even started to learn her, to figure out how best to undo her, but she was already moaning and gasping above him. It boded well for him that he didn’t have to try very hard to make her feel good, not having more sense than to just eat and eat.

Finally though, he nosed his way up to her clit, latching on and humming, growling when she squealed. Fuck yes, he wanted that, he wanted her to feel so good. He quickly shoved two fingers into her, the wetness making them slide right in and began fucking her while he sucked, her screams getting so loud they drowned out the storm outside. He felt her tighten around him and moaned, the idea of her coming in his mouth nearly enough to undo him.

He kept up the pace, crooking his fingers and rubbing, looking up at her, tits swaying and throat exposed as her head fell back in pleasure. No. No, he wanted her to look at him.

Ripping his mouth from her he gasped:

“Penelope” and she rolled her head to him immediately. “Watch,” he commanded and he didn’t know where this version of him came from, maybe the one that knew that this was his goddamn fucking birthright and if he couldn’t have her the way he wanted every day for the rest of his life he was goddamn going to have her like he wanted for tonight.

He found her clit again, sucking gently as he fucked her with his fingers, watching in satisfaction as her eyelashes fluttered and she struggled to keep her eyes open, closer and closer to the edge. He had her, he had her, and he knew when he sucked a little harder on her clit that she would come, and she did, eyes widening as she shuddered and her shoulders curled, doing her best to stay watching him as she fell apart.

He sucked and fucked her through it, riding each wave with her, drawing out her pleasure as she trembled and shook under him.

He took his mouth off her, his fingers still steadily pumping in her as she began to soften finally.

“Good girl,” he murmured and the look on her face, Jesus, it was like she was drunk and high all at once. She fucking liked it. He felt her try to shift away but no, no, he couldn't be done with her now he’d discovered this.

He watched her eyes widen as she realised he wasn’t stopping and he dropped a kiss where her thigh creased, long fingers massaging the inside of her while his thumb found her clit this time, making her buck up with overstimulation.

“Colin…?” she choked, breaths already deepening and hips beginning to rock in response.

“That’s it my good girl, that’s it. You’re doing so well. Give me another, you’re fucking perfect.”

He watched Penelope’s jaw drop, a crease forming between her eyes as all of a sudden she was coming again and Jesus Christ she was squirting, release splashing on his wrist as he swore and dropped his mouth to catch every drop, lapping at her even as she moaned and bucked under him.

Holding her hips down he removed his fingers as she whined and began to catch every drop he could, licking her cunt, her thighs, anywhere even the slightest bit of her cum might be. He sucked it from her curls, he ran his tongue through every fold and crease of her, in a moment of complete madness he licked the wet spot on the sheets under her.

He looked up at her, seeing the way she watched him, still propped up on her elbows somehow, sweat dripping down her face and an expression of complete bewilderment. Her chest was heaving and what a fucking work of art she was, bruises and marks all over her tits and stomach, cunt soaked, face red and sweaty as hair stuck to her forehead.

Not enough, not enough.

Hooking his arms under her thighs, he yanked her, and she fell onto her back with a gasp followed by a moan as he dove back between her legs face first.

~~~

Penelope was floating, but also somehow drowning. As Colin made her come for the fourth time, her cries unfamiliar to her own ears, and squirting again, something she wasn’t even aware she could do, she was grateful that he had sufficiently driven any coherent thought from her mind.

There were no thoughts, only Colin and his perplexing need to make her scream louder than the cyclone outside.

Her legs were shaking, stomach hurting from tensing then relaxing so many times, and she felt so sensitive that she was sure he could just breathe on her for her to come again.

Part of her knew this was really, really bad.

But also the best thing that had ever happened, so she didn’t give a fuck. Especially since the biggest mistake of her life had a magic tongue and like to call her a good girl (another sexual discovery she had only just made).

But it was enough now, she wanted him. She missed his lips on hers, and she wanted him on top of her and inside her as far as he could go. Because if she was fucked she may as well get properly fucked, right?

Colin was currently wiping squirt off his chin with the back of his hand, eyes black and desperate (Jesus fucking Christ how long had it been for him?) as he stared at her.

“Colin,” she croaked, the only word she’d managed since he kissed her, but this time she managed to put together a sentence. “I need you…I need you to fuck me.”

Her voice wobbled, but what dignity was there to preserve now he’d sucked the cum directly out of her pussy?

Colin sat up on his heels, face raw and needy, and God it was easy to pretend that it was like that because of her. Maybe she could just pretend. She could check herself into an institution later.

He nodded, eyes dragging over her body like he couldn't look at her enough, using one hand to grasp his shirt and pull it over his head. His hair looked insane, sticking in all directions with strands sticking to his scalp, yet he’d never looked hotter. His gaze never left hers as he stood, unbuttoning his shorts and shoving them and his underwear down at the same time, his erection springing out, big and hard and fucking beautiful in the candlelight, frankly. She wanted to suck it, choke on it, rub her face on it.

When she finally tore her eyes away from him, he was staring at her with his mouth open, chest heaving with his breath. Then he moved towards her and she flung her arms around him as he climbed over her, both of them squeezing and pulling the other closer and closer.

Sticky skin on sticky skin, they slid across each other, somehow both not enough friction and too much at once. She wrapped her legs around him, her thighs slipping down his legs as he found her mouth again, kissing her messy and hard and she wanted it all, the ache of her lips being pressed slightly too hard, the sting of his stubble on her chin, the marks his fingertips were making on her skin.

They tangled together, limbs wrapping and hands grabbing skin, gripping, mouths open and tasting whatever they could find. He kissed her neck and she nipped his earlobe, making him groan. He grasped her tit and squeezed and she pulled his hair, both of them moaning in unison. He sunk his teeth into her shoulder and she dug her nails into his back, gasping in pleasure when he hissed.

Suddenly his cock was at her entrance, and she needed him more than she needed her next breath. She reached to grasp him, savouring the way he squirmed as she did, and pressed his head into her, her eyelids dropping at just the feeling of his hardness between her legs.

He looked between them, gripping her by the hips before driving forward, sinking to the hilt in one go that knocked the breath out of her lungs, her pussy completely wet and pliant for him. His accompanying groan was so low and guttural it seared itself into her mind and she felt herself clench from just the sound.

Rolling them so he was over her completely, Colin propped himself over her and began driving into her long and deep, leaning down to kiss her so hard she could barely breathe, the smallest bits of air managing to get in when she was fucked up the mattress again and again.

He was big, but more than that he was right, like he was made to fill every crevice, and she felt her body shift to make space, as easily as the sea meets the shore. He kissed her, consumed her, fucked her like she belonged to him and God she wanted that and she did, who the fuck was she trying to kid she was his and always had been and always would be.

For such a depressing revelation, Penelope was surprised to realise she was on the cusp of coming once more, Colin’s thrusts rolling so his pelvis tapped her clit every time, moving like he knew her, like he owned her, like he lo-

“Colin, fuck- Colin!”

It hit her like a freight train, this one, and her eyes rolled back in her head as he kept the pace exactly, meeting her again and again while he looked down at her, watching her so intently. She tried to keep her eyes open, remembering how much he liked that, and she wanted to be his good girl, she did she did and holy fuck how was he so good at this?

“Yes, baby, Yes Pen, fucking yes,” he grunted, and she couldn’t stop the babbling coming from her lips, every fibre of her being unravelling with the way he drove pleasure into and out of her, pulling it from places she didn’t know existed.

“Colin,” she whined, she was losing control somehow even more. “Colin, please.”

“Yeah baby, that’s it, tell me.”

“I need you.”

“You have me gorgeous, Jesus fuck, you have me.”

It was those words, not meant the way they sounded, of course not, but they did something to her and she was coming again, somehow, and she felt her back arch and Colin stared down at her, before dropping to cover her with kisses.

“Yes, baby, yes, good girl, oh God baby, yes-”

She felt his thrusts stutter and realised he was coming and she clung to him, opening herself more if she could, hiking her thighs up higher on his waist even as they slipped down because of the sweat, and felt herself cry out as he spilled in her, the warmth making her own orgasm extend as she called out his name and he moaned hers and this was heaven this was everything this was all she had ever wanted…

She felt him relax on top of her, his warm weight like a blanket over her and she felt her legs slide out and open, trembling and sore. Their chests mashed together as they caught their breath, and she closed her eyes, clinging to the moment, willing any thoughts away. Willing anything that wasn’t this moment away. The bubble had somehow become several bubbles, fizzy effervescence, and now it would be even more devastating when it burst, each pop leaving her flatter, more lifeless.

She felt him soften within her and even though she willed it not to, sickness settled in her stomach. Because now they would have to deal with what they’d just done.

Colin would let her down easy, and she would never be the same. How could she be?

Her hand was still tangled in his hair, and she realised she was running her hand through it absent-mindedly. Gulping, she pulled her hand away.

Oh God, this was going to kill her.

~~~

Colin laid on top of Penelope, still inside of her, and felt her pull her hand from his hair. He wanted to cry again. After whatever happened now happened, he would let himself cry for a year, maybe two.

Because he could feel it, physically feel the moment she realised how much she’d lowered her walls and scrambled to build them back up. And he would not be allowed back in. Not after how he’d just behaved. He hadn’t just slept with her, he’d consumed her. He’d disregarded every single scrap of inhibition he had, and there was no doubt how much he had crossed their lines. So many. He wasn’t supposed to want her this much. If this was just sex, which it must be, how was she not supposed to realise that for him it was everything?

He wasn’t sorry though. He didn't think he could live with himself if he’d held back even a little. And what difference did it make, if she knew how he felt? It wasn't like he could destroy a friendship that wasn't there.

Which was just as well, since he’d essentially told her anyway.

You have me gorgeous, Jesus fuck, you have me.

God, it felt good to tell her, finally. If he wasn’t scared of her running for the hills completely, he would have told her he loved her.

He really wanted to.

He sighed again, his heart hurt, and he was probably crushing the love of his life.

He gently rolled to one side, shuddering as he slipped out of her, the air cool against the wetness. He didn’t say anything, just lay on his side, one arm still draped across her because he’d be damned if he didn’t soak up every moment of this before it was over. He could feel her heart beat against his wrist, felt it speed up again as he’d rolled off her, and he knew she’d be as anxious as he was about this.

Because what now?

She didn’t look at him, just bit her lip and kept staring at the ceiling, and he watched her, heart tearing in half. She couldn't even look at him. But still she didn’t move, or ask him to, so he stayed, selfishly making the most of the standoff.

He kept waiting, eyes heavy and muscles sore as her breathing steadied once more, for her to speak, but she never did. Instead her eyelids began to droop and he realised she was falling asleep. He swallowed, and took a chance, gently pulling her into his arms. She froze for a second, then relaxed, turning to bury her face into his shoulder.

He held his breath, not able to believe it, and — unsurprisingly — wanting to weep.

He held her as he felt her fall asleep, trying to make himself stay awake and memorise how she felt, her small body tucked into his, but he was exhausted and soon sleep took him too.

~~~

Colin awoke to the sound of rain sheeting down on the roof above him, and the now familiar sound of wind howling around the building. He felt relaxed, but something was wrong. He squinted, realising it must be morning since the room was lighter now even as the storm raged on. And the bed beside him was empty.

That woke him up, and he sat up, heart pounding. Which was ridiculous. Where was she going to go? But she left, which meant she was awake, which meant she’d had time to think. Process. Realise what they’d done. Any freebies he’d snuck over the line in the haze of last night were going to be paid for now. God.

The fact she had left the room told him everything he needed to know. That if there was some tiny chance this could have been anything other than him taking whatever he could while she wanted him, in whatever small way she did, was shattered.

He felt like a dead man walking. Dead man sitting up in bed. Naked and sticky and pathetic. His dick hard again because he could smell Penelope on the sheets.

His heart ached, but he made himself get up and get dressed, needing to know if she was okay. Hating him and regretting last night, probably, but okay.

He slid the bedroom door open gently, eyes going immediately to Penelope sitting on the couch, arms wrapped around her knees.

Oh no.

That wasn’t a good sign.

He tried to smile, but it felt like his face was concrete.

“Morning,” he said softly, and Penelope winced. Fuck.

“Morning,” she replied, not looking at him. Oh no. Not angry, not hateful. Something worse. Regretful? Embarrassed? Hurt?

He cleared his throat.

“Um…are you okay?” he asked, unable to keep the wobble out of his voice. Penelope chewed her lip and he wanted to hug her, but he couldn’t, because he was the one who had fucking caused this, wasn’t he?

She nodded, but he saw the tears in her eyes. She was wearing a big yellow shirt that he assumed she slept in normally, and she looked small in the massive garment. He approached her gently, regret washing over him in waves. How could he have been so stupid? So selfish? He was sure she wanted it too, but they should have talked about it. He should have taken one fucking second to think about something other than his overwhelming need for her. He’d had enough practice by now, fuck.

“Pen, I’m-” he began.

“Don’t,” she said firmly and he stared at her, flabbergasted.

“Pen-”

But she didn’t let him get any further, repeating herself.

“Don’t, Colin.”

“But-” He should shut up, but he needed to apologise, for this, for everything. For every stupid fucking thing he’d ever done in his dumbfuck life.

“I’ll leave,” she threatened and Colin stared at her, stunned.

“There’s a cyclone outside,” he muttered, completely confused as to why he would have to explain that to her.

“Yeah, that’s how much I don’t want to talk about it,” she retorted, and it wasn’t snappy, just desperate. Desperate for him to shut up. God.

“Okay, I’m sorry,” he muttered and she glared at him and he realised he’d apologised again and grimaced. Fucking hell.

He stood awkwardly, not knowing what to do. All the things he wanted to do weren’t allowed. Talking to her, holding her. Crying probably wouldn’t be taken too kindly either. He sighed and headed to the kitchen. He would make some tea.

He filled the kettle and flicked it on, grabbing out two mugs without thinking about it. He was just going to ask if she wanted a cup when he heard the front door slam shut. He whirled around and saw with a dropping stomach that the couch was now empty.

Surely not?

He quickly ran to the bedroom, but it was empty, and so was the bathroom when he whipped the door open.

Fucking fuck, what the fuck???

He could hear the rain pouring still on the roof and he felt sick knowing she’d gone out in that, what the fuck was she thinking? He hadn’t even said anything? He bolted to the front door, wrenching it open as the wind immediately tried to suck it closed again.

He winced, spray immediately misting on his face even though he was still inside and there was an undercover area outside the door. Grabbing his keycard from the holder next to the door and hoping water wouldn't make it useless, he barrelled out into the storm, squinting into the rain to see if he could see where she might have gone. Figuring she wouldn’t have headed away from the resort he made his way down the boardwalk, gripping the wooden railing as he tried to keep his footing on the wet wood.

He turned the corner and sure enough, there was Penelope, head down and hurrying toward the main building of the resort, heading across a grassed picnic area that was now ankle deep in water.

Swearing, he broke into a jog, hoping to dear God no branches would decide now was the time to fall, the trees creaking and groaning around him.

He caught up to her when she was halfway across the clearing, and he grabbed her arm, spinning her around in his desperation to get her somewhere safe.

“Pen, what the fuck are you doing?” he shouted, having to raise his voice over the wind as raindrops stung his arms and face. Penelope stared at him and he realised tears must be joining the water running down her face, her eyes red and distraught. It killed him.

“I have to go, Colin, I can’t do this,” she yelled, wiping uselessly at the water in her eyes.

“Can’t do what, Pen? You can’t be out here right now, it's not safe.” It was ridiculous, trying to have this conversation in shouts right now, but clearly she was past the point of reason.

“I fucked everything up, and I can’t keep hurting you, you don’t deserve it.” Even over the rain he could hear the hurt in her voice, and he shook his head.

“I don’t give a fuck if you stab me in the fucking face, Penelope, can you please just come inside??”

He meant it, too. What the fuck did he have to do to get her to be safe?

“No, I can’t, Colin, because I fucking love you and I always have and I fucked everything up and I’ve been so mean to you and I just have to go sleep in the foyer or something because I can’t keep hurting you it’s not fair,” she yelled, voice as desperate as her face.

Colin stared at her, mouth open, rain pounding down on them as he struggled to process her words.

“You love me?” he shouted, certain the rain had distorted her words.

She nodded.

“Of course. Isn’t it fucking obvious?”

He shook his head.

“Not really.”

She shrugged, her shirt nearly transparent, it was so sodden.

“Yeah, well. I said all that shit because it hurt me that you didn't feel the same…you were right.” She stood in the rain, her face raw and vulnerable and breathtakingly beautiful.

Colin shook his head, unable to believe it. Unable to reconcile how that changed everything he’d believed for the last few years. Unable to let her let him off the hook like this.

“I wasn’t right, Pen, I should have never said any of it,” he shouted, wishing they were having this conversation somewhere decidedly dryer and quieter.

“It’s fine Colin, you don't have to do this, that's why I left the apartment,” Penelope shook her head, and he could tell she’d already decided what he felt, just like he had about her. They were idiots. He pulled her closer by the other arm so she was looking up at him.

“No, I lied to you Pen.” He was yelling still, and it wasn’t how he envisioned telling her this, but it would have to do.

“What?”

He wondered if she was confused or just not able to understand him over the sound of rain in her ears. He bellowed the next part, so there would be no confusion.

“I fucking love you. I love you so much it's killing me, Pen.”

Penelope stood there for a second, staring at him. The storm howled around them and he stared down at her, waiting. His world was drastically different than it had been five minutes ago.

Penelope squinted at him through the rain, then like sun through the clouds, the smallest smile tugged at her lips, and he wanted to fucking drink it.

“Colin-” she started to say, but he didn’t want to hear it frankly, pulling her to him and kissing her, hard.

~~~

It was so fucking stupid, all of it, but it was also the best thing that had ever happened to her. As she stood ankle deep in a puddle in her sleep tee, soaked, hair hanging in wet tendrils around her face, she kissed Colin Bridgerton so hard she saw stars behind her eyes and hoped she wouldn’t get struck by lightning.

He lifted her, hands hot through the thin cotton of her shirt, and she felt alive, alive, alive. The rain was warm, the air heavy and she couldn't tell what was rain, saliva or tears on their face. Colin tore his face from hers, panting and looking down at her, using her hair to gently tug so her face was facing his, protected from the rain by his.

“Now will you please, please end this madness and come back inside?”

She laughed, actually laughed, because the war was over, wasn’t it? A war she’d thought would last a lifetime. And nodded.

Colin sighed in relief and scooped her up, making her squeal, and he silenced her with a kiss.

“You scared the fucking shit out of me, I’m not risking you getting blown away or falling into a sinkhole,” he said in her ear, already making his way back towards the apartment. She blushed, embarrassed with her decision-making, yet not hating the way it played out as felt his strong arms hold her to him. She looped her arms around his neck, laying kisses on his wet shirt wherever she could reach while he concentrated on not falling over, periodically glancing down at her to grin. Oh, she loved him.

Back at the apartment he set her down gently, fishing his card out of his pocket (something she had forgotten in her existential panic) and unlocking the door, bundling her inside and letting the door slam behind them.

“Thank-” she began to say but he was already pulling her to him, hands on her face as he kissed her, walking her back against the door and pressing her there as he pulled her shirt off her, leaving her in just her underwear, the sodden fabric hitting the floor with a wet slap.

~~~

“No problem,” he mumbled into her mouth, “gotta get you out of these wet clothes,” he continued, his tongue delving into her mouth, tasting like rainwater as his hand slipped into her underwear and she moaned as he wasted no time rubbing small circles on her clit.

“Jesus, Colin-” she gasped as he touched her, sucking at her neck and humming in approval as he kissed each mark from yesterday, pausing every now and again to bite at a piece of skin that remained white and untouched. He licked rainwater off her breasts, sucking at her nipples one by one before sinking to his knees in front of her, looking up at her, finally able to let the raw adoration that existed within him show.

“This okay, baby?” he asked softly, pressing a soft kiss to her thigh as she nodded frantically. “Hmmm, good,” and there it fucking was again, her pussy gushing at the praise, he could feel it. Then he was pulling down her underwear and pulling a leg over his shoulder as he shoved his face between her legs because fucking hell he’d missed it.

Penelope fell back against the door, knees already weak it seemed, and he couldn’t help but smirk into her mouthwatering cunt. He worked her up quickly, hungry as he lapped at her, nose rubbing against her clit and groaning into her. Then he gently clung to her clit and sucked, eyes rolling back as she came immediately, her body even more sensitised to him that last time. Like last time he didn’t stop, and he nearly came in his pants as she tilted her hips to chase the friction until she was riding his face, using his nose and chin to get off once more while he moaned into her and drank her down.

Humming encouragingly he used his hands to guide her to ride him more, his entire lower half of his face lost, mouth open and with his tongue in her, fucking her as she unraveled above him, moaning and shuddering as she came again, a small release splashing from her as she thrust off of him at one point, and he licked at it, drinking from her as she gasped, trying to catch her breath.

Her legs were wobbly and he supported her as she lifted her leg off his shoulder before sliding to the floor. She gripped him by his wet shirt, pulling him for a kiss that drove him insane, frankly, licking her release off his chin as he panted. She tugged at his shirt and he stripped it off while she pushed a hand in his pants, grabbing him with her lip in her teeth, and Jesus Christ he liked it when her hand was on his cock...

Not even bothering to take off his shorts, she pushed him to sit against the door, shoving the fabric out of the way so she could hover above him and then slide slowly down onto him, both of them with eyes glazed and mouths open at the feeling. God it felt fucking good, and fucking hell she was hot. She was hot and his and hot and his and Jesus fuck.

She started riding him immediately as he watched in awe, hands on her hips as he pulled her in for another kiss.

“That’s my good girl, yes baby, fuck, you’re good at taking my cock,” he murmured to her, his mouth close to hers as they exchanged breaths and God, it would kill him, the way she wanted to be his good girl, he would give her everything he had and then some.

When she moaned particularly loudly at his words, his eyes lit up, and he brought his mouth to her ear so he could keep speaking to her while she rode him.

“You like that, baby? Like being my good girl?”

She whined, and he took it as a yes, gripping her more firmly as he brought her down onto him again and again.

“Yes, yes, yes,” she chanted, her knees skidding on the tiled floor as she tried to keep her purchase and he groaned. Everything was slippery and wet, making it harder to grip and hold on, and everything that much more tantalising.

“Hold on, baby, I got you,” he held her hips up, encouraging her to wrap her legs around his waist, and he pulled her back down again, the new angle taking him even deeper as they moaned. She clung to him, her body pressed up against him like this, and used his shoulders to leverage herself, pulling herself up and down his dick slowly, shuddering as she felt each delicious inch. Her lips were split onto him like this, her clit rubbing against him with every move, and the groans she gave were low and animal as she rose on him again and again, his hands on her ass guiding her onto him as he kept whispering in her ear.

“You fucking like that? You feel so fucking good, Pen. I wanna fuck you like this every day of my life. I am going to fuck you every day of your life. I'm never letting you go Pen, you’re mine.”

Her orgasm built slowly and it felt like watching a wave break when she came, holding herself to him as she shuddered, wetness pouring between them as she contracted around him, biting his lip to stop him from coming. He kissed her neck while she fell apart, humming praises and caressing circles on her skin as she came and came and came, finally flopping down on him, her head on his shoulder as she struggled to regain her breath.

She panted, drool spilling on his skin as her vision came back into focus.

“You okay, baby?” Colin checked in, and she smiled.

“Oh yeah.” She nodded dopily. “Can you come in me now?” she asked sweetly and he laughed breathlessly.

“With fucking pleasure, gorgeous,” he replied, holding her hips and arranging himself so he could thrust into her from underneath. He immediately began fucking her hard and fast and her eyes rolled back again as her sensitive pussy began to spasm almost immediately.

“Jesus Christ, baby, are you going to come again? Fuck, okay, hold on” he held her, concentrating on keeping the angle exactly the same and sure enough she was coming, his cock sliding in and out of her punishingly as she squeezed him tightly, crying out and saying his name over and over until he groaned, and came inside her.

They sat there for a while, damp with sweat and rain, Colin’s hands sweeping over her back.

“God, I missed you Pen,” he mumbled and she leaned back so she could see his face, and for the first time since they’d got here didn’t try to stop the tears from forming in his eyes.

“I missed you too,” she whispered, gently kissing him, and he was unable to comprehend that she was here, right now, with him, and wanted him. It made his heart so full it hurt.

“Can you promise me something?” Colin asked and she held her breath, looking immediately apprehensive. She wasn't used to things going this right, his baby, but he would fix that. She nodded, waiting as he caressed her back soothingly.

“If I apologise to you, do you promise not to storm out into the rain?” he asked, a smirk emerging on his face and watched, pleased, as she tried to stop the grin that emerged on her own.

“I’ll try,” she muttered begrudgingly, and his heart sang. Colin shifted beneath her, and he could feel their joint spend between them, warm and thick.

“I am sorry,” he murmured, smile falling from his face. “For all of it.”

She shook her head.

“I’m sorry too, Colin. I was awful to you.” Colin shook his head this time and they just sat there, looking at each other, at an impasse. He didn’t like that. Didn’t like that the best thing that had ever happened to him would be marred this way. Penelope studied his face, and he wondered if she could read his mind as she spoke.

“Okay, so how about we don’t be sorry? How about we chalk it up to being dumb kids and misunderstandings and not being able to communicate to save our lives? Because ironically we did love each other this whole time, we just did a really shitty job doing it so far,” she reasoned.

Colin smiled and pressed a kiss to her lips. He liked that idea. Not erasing the past, but at least lifting it and moving it somewhere where it wouldn’t stop them anymore.

“Mmmm, I approve. And technically, I haven’t been anyone else’s, only yours. So from my standpoint we’ve been together this whole time, just like, terribly and without knowing it.”

Penelope laughed, the sound mingling with the rain that had lightened now.

“That’s a stretch,” she countered, although her smile couldn’t contain itself.

“Hmm, it is, and yet…?” Colin offered, wonky grin. She kissed him, kissed his stupid smile.

“We’re putting the past behind us, idiot, not rewriting it,” she murmured into his mouth and he chuckled.

“Oh okay, I’m sorry, I wasn’t aware of the rules,” he replied, muffled as she kept kissing him.

“That’s okay,” she responded sweetly, “you’ll learn,” and he only grumbled a reply as they deepened their kiss, the rain pattering the only noise they could hear.

“Oh,” Penelope stopped suddenly, sitting back.

“Oh?” Colin asked, studying her face.

“Merry Christmas,” she said with a snort, and he laughed, his head thrown back.

“Oh yes, Merry Christmas, Pen,” he replied, and for once, he was right.