At work the next day, Henry seems different. More relaxed. I’d almost describe him as chirpy. He made us teas when we first came in and I think I heard him whistling in the kitchen. I’m not sure I’ve ever heard him whistle before.

I’m actually feeling pretty chirpy myself. Ending things with Dan has turned out to be an enormous weight off my shoulders. Which seems outrageous when I think about how long I spent longing for him, wanting to meet him, actually looking for him. But I haven’t even dreamt about him for ages. I dreamt about Henry last night.

I smile to myself as I unpack a box of books. There’s an historical romance by one of my favourite authors and I put it to one side to read later (although the cover features a blindfolded woman in a very low-cut dress with boobs like basketballs perched on top, so maybe I’ll save it to read at home).

Henry brings out teas and he’s definitely whistling. Although he stops when he sees me.

‘You hungry?’ he says.

I had a piece of toast before we left home, but I could definitely eat. ‘What were you thinking?’

‘Bacon sarnie?’

I pull a face at him. We’re not allowed to eat hot food in the shop. We have occasionally broken that rule, but bacon has a pretty strong smell, so if someone from head office came in—

‘Live a little,’ Henry says, picking up the book I just put down, before turning bright pink and dropping it again.

‘Go on then,’ I say. ‘With ketchup please.’

‘Excellent,’ he says, heading for the door. ‘Will you be all right on your own?’

‘I think I’ll manage,’ I say, smiling. But he’s already gone.

---

We have one of the best days we’ve had in the shop for a while. First the bacon sandwiches and more tea – no one from head office turns up, thank god – and then a preschool group comes in to choose a picture book each and the children run riot. But in a cute way. I end up sitting on the floor reading I Am Not Sleepy and I Will Not Go To Bed to a little girl who is definitely sleepy, even though it’s early afternoon, and a boy who has his finger up his nose the entire time.

Once they’ve gone, we put Radio 2 back on and tidy and clean the shop, singing along to Steve Wright’s oldies. Henry shows me how singing along with the radio makes you feel like you’re in a music video, by miming while posing moodily around the shop – leaning against a bookshelf, pretending to be engrossed in a book, at the desk with my phone held up to his ear – and I laugh so much I come very close to wetting my pants.

We lock up and walk home together, stopping at the grocer’s for some vegetables, spices and mixed beans for the curry Henry’s planning to make.

‘Did you finish watching that film?’ Henry asks me, as he passes me a bag of spinach and I drop it in the basket.

‘Inception? Fuck no.’

He laughs, looking down at the recipe he printed off the internet. ‘No, not that. The one you were watching in your room. When you were… trying on your dress?’

He’s gone pink.

‘Oh! Down With Love. No. But I’ve seen it before. Why?’

‘Have we got ginger or garlic at home?’ He’s still staring at the printout.

‘Maybe. But you’d better get some anyway, just in case. So why? Down With Love?’

‘Oh.’ He throws a bag of garlic to me and I put it in the basket. ‘I was going to say I’d watch it with you. Since you watched Inception with me.’

‘I mean, not much of it. I fell asleep. And before that I just complained about how it didn’t make sense. Didn’t you say you needed an onion?’

He checks and nods, so I put one in the basket.

‘Well yeah. But still. You watched my film, I think it’s only fair for me to watch yours.’

‘Have you got a thing for Renée Zellweger? Does Reese know?’

‘Can you grab a tin of coconut milk?’ he says, picking up a head of broccoli and two enormous, gnarled sweet potatoes. ‘And no. I just thought about what you said at brunch that day. About men and romcoms. I feel like I’ve dismissed them for no good reason. And I’m ready for you to teach me their ways.’

‘Is this because you loved Notting Hill?’

‘I did love Notting Hill,’ he says. ‘Beans.’

The beans are just along from the coconut milk so I grab them both and say, ‘Is that it?’

‘Just…’ He scans over the recipe again, his brow furrowed. ‘Cashew nuts and a lime.’

‘Perfect,’ I say. ‘And then Down With Love for dessert.’

---

We watch the film on my laptop. On my bed. Henry’s arm is warm against mine, our hips bump whenever we shift position. There’s a horrendously awkward few minutes when the film’s main characters are pantomiming sex over split screens and Henry and I both drink almost all of our beers to cover our embarrassment, but he loves the film and doesn’t get up to leave when it ends.

‘I need to tell you something,’ Henry says, as I close the laptop and push it further down the bed.

I shift slightly so I can look at him and he moves back a little too, turning towards me.

‘Is it something bad?’ I ask. I’m suddenly terrified that his dad’s selling the flat or Henry’s planning to leave the bookshop. There have been too many changes, endings, lately, I can’t take another.

‘No. I mean, I hope not. Maybe?’ He blows out a breath. ‘Fuck. I need another beer.’

‘Want me to get you one?’

He shakes his head, his eyes closed. ‘No. I’m good. I just need to…’ He looks at me. His eyes look dark. He takes another breath. ‘I think… I think I’m in love with you.’

‘What?’ I say, brilliantly.

He nods. ‘I think, yeah. I think I have been for… a while.’

‘How long?’ I ask, as if that’s an important question. As if it matters at all.

He rubs one hand over his face. ‘I don’t know exactly. I mean, I fancied you right from the start. When you walked into the shop, I was just…’ He picks up his beer and swigs it. ‘I knew I was going to give you the job before you even said a word.’

‘What? Henry!’

‘I know,’ he says, half-smiling. ‘So unprofessional. But it worked out great! You’re good at it. I knew you would be.’

‘Is that why you offered me the room too?’ I ask. This room. The room we’re sitting in now, having this utterly surreal conversation.

‘Um.’ He drinks some more beer. ‘Would it be bad if I said yes?’

‘Oh my god.’ I laugh. ‘Oh my god, Henry!’

‘I know. I’m sorry. Are you freaking out? Do you want me to lie? No, that’s not why I offered you the room.’

I close my eyes and try to breathe. Henry has liked me since the very start. That’s why I got the job. That’s why I live in this house. Everything I have right now, I have because Henry liked me.

‘So?’ Henry says. He sounds nervous. ‘Bea? I didn’t offer you the job or the house because I fancied you, I promise. I knew you’d be great at the job. And then you needed somewhere to say. I know it sounds creepy—’

‘It sounds a bit creepy,’ I say.

He nods. ‘That’s why I never told you. Freya said—’

‘Freya knows?!’

‘Yeah. She kind of… guessed. And then beat it out of me.’

‘I can’t believe Freya knows.’

‘Adam and Celine don’t know. I don’t think.’

‘Well that’s a relief.’

‘So. What do you think?’

‘God. Well, first of all I’m in no position to judge since I moved here to find a person who doesn’t exist. And I hung around the park and asked out a random man and then broke his heart.’

‘You broke his heart?’

‘No. I don’t know. Shut up. I’m trying to think.’

‘Sorry.’

After a few seconds, I ask him the most pressing question. ‘How did you know?’

‘Oh,’ he says, shuffling on the bed again. ‘OK, well, when you introduced me to Dan, you called me your landlord and work colleague and friend. In that order.’

Shit. ‘I didn’t mean—’

He holds his hands up. ‘No, it’s fine. I know you didn’t. But the way it made me feel… I realised I wanted you to say “boyfriend”. I honestly hadn’t realised until right that moment. I don’t think. I mean, I knew I liked you. But hearing you introduce me like that was when I knew it wasn’t enough. And it would never be enough.’

‘Henry.’

‘And then you said you’d had a panic attack. And I thought about you there on your own. I know you weren’t on your own. I know Dan was with you and he took care of you. But I couldn’t stand the thought of it. Of you being scared. And then I couldn’t stand the thought of him taking care of you. I started thinking about what it would be like if the two of you were really serious. If he really was your dream man. And I knew I couldn’t take it. I felt like it was suffocating me.’

‘I’m sorry.’

He smiles. ‘It’s not your fault.’

I think back about all the time we’ve spent together. In the shop and at home. Brunch at Mr C’s. All the Adam bonus dinners. Henry building me a bookshelf. I can’t imagine my life without him in it. I don’t want to.

---

‘So what do you think?’ Henry says. He’s biting his thumbnail, sliding it between his front teeth. I think about the splinter. Holding his hand. His stomach when he pulled out his knackered old T-shirt.

‘I think…’ I say. And then I lean forward and brush my lips across his. My eyes are still open, but he closes his, his long eyelashes brushing his cheeks. I can see the little frown line between his eyebrows and I want to smooth it out with my thumb, or kiss it away. I slide my hand around the back of his neck, my fingers up into his hair.

I thought it would be weird, kissing Henry, after being friends for so long, but it’s not weird at all. It feels good. It feels right.

His hands move around my waist and I let myself relax against him, my chest pressing against his. I feel him sigh against my mouth, and I part my lips, my tongue grazing his bottom lip, slipping into his mouth. He opens his mouth, deepening the kiss, and I finally close my eyes.

With Dan, when we kissed, I couldn’t make my brain be quiet. With Henry, I feel like I’m underwater. Or floating in space. Everything is dark, warm, velvety. And then the blackness is interrupted with bursts of light.

Fireworks.