"Get out!" Boyd growls, throwing a pillow at me

Apparently I was being a menace because I'd already watched Umbrella Academy and I kept looking at my phone.

"I pay rent here mate! You can't kick me out!" I protest, throwing the cushion back at him

"I will call him right now! Promise!" He warns me, as if Luca was some boogey man I was scared of or something

You think you have family members...

Boyd removes his phone, scrolling down and then pressing on a number. He turns the screen to me so I can see the caller Id: Luc Roland 👑, his finger menacing tortuously over the green call button, like the terrorist that he is.

"I'll call him and tell him to come get you. Don't test me chupsie!" He warns, chasing me out of my own lounge and into my bedroom with his threats.

I'd been busy testing the limits of everyone's patience. I'd told Luca I was ready to talk and that I had to drop Boyd home and pick some things, freshen up before heading to him for this conversation. Apparently I was being a menace, staring at the last video Luca had sent me as I tried to regain the confidence I'd felt almost an hour ago when I thought I was ready.

I was looking at the silent flirty video sent to me two days ago, the last bit of conversation between us, my gaze turning to the charts that would outline my plan to stay as a sextuplet and unfall in love with Luca. Decisively, I slip on some lingerie, paint myself shiny with body lava and throw on a more flattering outfit, spraying some perfume and some light make-up on.

I grab the charts, call myself a taxi and remind myself that Luca said we'd talk about my kind of being in love with him whenever I was ready to talk. And maybe when he said that he didn't mean 11:45 pm on a Thursday, but I'm ready now. My plan was simple, go through my presentation and then I'd do a little striptease followed by a demonstration that I could totally fuck him without my feelings leaking. That's how I ended up at Luca's, smiling at Estelle and Wilford awkwardly as I walked in through the chef's kitchen.

"Your grace..." Wilford stutters awkwardly

Could they see the lingerie or was it the charts in my hand that was weird?

"Yeah...is he in?" I wonder softly, watching Estelle nod with a weird concern on her face

I smile at them and head for the elevator, reminding myself that I was absolutely ready to do this. I can't come here and die. Besides, Boyd won't let me back into the house anyway. I step out of the elevator, taking in a deep breath before I start to make my way to his room. Maybe it was my nerves or what felt like the dead quiet of the hallway but something felt off.

"Luca?" I call out like the absolute dolt that I am

I hadn't watched the shining or anything but I knew enough about black people in horror movies to not chance it.

"In the kitchen mo gradh." He calls back out, making me reroute

I find him shirtless, in the kitchen, fixing himself a drink. He offers to fix me one, his gaze curiously on the charts in my hand. I'm too nervous to drink so I decide that the kitchen is exactly where this conversation was going to happen. I take in a deep breath and pick out the first chart.

"Sit." I instruct, which only seems to confuse him

Poor lad has probably never heard an instruction in his life

"How about I make you a drink and we head to the bedroom?" He offers with a little incredibly seductive smile

The way he said bedroom was enough to let me know his intentions. Why don't we have this conversation at Trafalgar square then!

"SIT!" I instruct more firmly, watching him chuckle at something I've said and then pop onto the kitchen counter, sitting comfortably with his scotch.

Was that so hard to do?

"Anything else mo gradh?" He teasingly pries, sipping on his scotch

"Yeah, shut it and listen mochridhe." I dictate, uncurling the first chart nervously

Here it goes...

"This is the amount of time we spend together." I indicate of the circle

He looks at the circle and then back at me as if he understood but was quite unsure where I was going with this.

"Of this time, we, the two of us, you and I...spend this much time cuddling, reading books to each other, watching movies and films, reviewing the menus of eateries, dancing, gossiping and this part is just general shenanigans..." I point out, peeling each part of the pie out to reveal the coloured portions that represent these activities

I pause, for effect, and to check that he was still following my argument. He smiles and nods, studying the chart for a moment.

"Is there anything missing from this chart mochridhe?" I taunt, slightly more confident now that I'd started the presentation

"I'm not sure if the sex falls under general shenanigans or not." Luca shrugs with a smile on his face, as if I need that kind of energy right now

"General shenanigans would be like that time you and Herve broke into my kitchen because you thought I was on a date with Boyd." I remind him, cutting my eyes at him

"And I've served my time in sex strike jail mo gradh, so how about we take this spirited discussion to the bedroom now?" He prods with a beautiful pout

Only Luca would think four days was a sex strike...

"Sex, that's what's missing from this chart, it's the last bit. Now have a good look at this Luca." I say revealing the chart in its entirety

He pouts briefly about my apparent sex strike but his gaze falls on the chart anyway.

"What's wrong with this chart?" I inquire as calmly as possible, watching his gaze shift from the chart to me and then back with a sigh

"You spelled shenanigans wrong?" He pries with a little smile

"What? No...wait..." I grumble, checking that I'd spelled shenanigans just how it was supposed to be spelled before I recall that that wasn't the point, at all

"Sex Luca!" I hiss at him, apparently making him smile

"Don't mind if I do." He chimes naughtily, winking at me for good measure

"What kind of sex slave am I if sex, the word that's first in sex slave, isn't even a third of the time we spend together? It's an inefficient system Luca!" I point out, fighting his advances for the sake of this presentation

"We can have sex while reading to each other..." he offers as if I was asking for an incoherent husky reading of Sula...

"And then there's the actual sex..." I sigh, picking the second pie chart and letting the first one drop

"I'd love some, yes." He sighs dreamily

I hope this man is paying attention or I swear to god...

"Not only is the sex less frequent than the cuddling, it's also a lot more confusing for me. If you compare the first, second and third time something happened between us to the last three times we slept together you'll see a few key changes in pattern and method. There's a lot more kissing and hand holding involved, more eye contact, the pace is distinctly slower, you haven't pinned me to a wall or tied me to a bed or threatened to rip my clothes off in more than two months..." I explain as calmly as I can

"What about Whitlam?" He points out, helpfully even

"Except for Whitlam." I decide, dropping the second chart and picking up the final chart. It wasn't a chart as much as it was the new order of things.

"In conclusion Luca, you're incredibly attractive and sweet and kind, you feed me, cuddle me, draw me baths, hang out with me, help me out, fuck like we're making love, we're kissing way too much in way too romantic ways and hanging out way too much in way too romantic places. I'm proper moist, I'm not of the streets, so you can imagine the kind of stress I'm under. All this is sending messages to my brainwaves that I'm in love with you! Take tonight for example... so I'm just supposed to enjoy my deeply thoughtful well organized homecoming themed going away party that I know you planned as the perfect surprise for me and not think I love this hot idiot so much? Is that just something I'm supposed to do fam?"I complain, unfurling the last of the charts

The toff is smiling, as if the stress I'm under is for laughs...

"I mean, I've found a way around it obviously. If we don't kiss and we schedule sexy time in a way that means I'm not sleeping over after we're done and we cut back on all the other shenanigans obstructing us from the sex, and I start doing romantic shit with other people, I think we can undo the feelings." I declare, watching him glare incredulously at my final chart

"So yeah...them the new rules." I state as calmly as I can, confident that if we just never kissed and he stopped cuddling me and drawing me baths and reading to me and buying me wonderful hot meals at posh eateries and we just concentrated on the sex and I started seeing other people I'd be able to work past my feelings for him and stay in the sextuplets

He huffs indignantly at my suggestions before sipping on his scotch, his gaze moving from the chart to my face.

"I'm not sure I understand, mo gradh." He gruffly states, something dangerous burning in his eyes

Luckily I planned meticulously for all the rebuttals I could imagine.

"Well...usually when two adults are having casual sex and one of them catches feelings, they have to stop because there's nothing casual about feelings, especially the unrequited kind. So instead of stopping, I'm suggesting we recalibrate how we have sex so I don't end up all dizzy with emotion from it. With this plan I'll be out of love with you in no time." I explain as clearly as I can, watching his long legs stretch to touch the ground as he stands up from the counter

Why did he always manage to look like he was at some erotic photo shoot somewhere?

"What about me?" He wonders, putting his glass of scotch down

I'm not sure what's happening now. This is the part where he asks how the new old sex will work and I reveal my lingerie and offer a demonstration. My hand was already on my dress' zipper!

"What... wait...what?" I stutter, unable to look away from the burning amber of his eyes as he stalks towards me

"What about MY emotions?" He challenges, throwing me entirely out of whack

It takes a moment for the words to sink in as something of a sentence with meaning.

"Your...your what?" I stammer, having done no calculations that presumed his emotions

He takes the chart from me, dropping it on the floor rather tersely before his hand rounds my waist and pulls me into him, his eyes burning like amber stars.

"I... I haven't been completely honest with you...Funke..." He announces in the most severe tone I've ever heard of him

My heart punches against my chest. What... what was happening.

"I've been scared... I am scared... I know we've both been hurt before..." he manages to somehow say, watching my gaze for any sign that he should stop or continue.

Both? What does he mean both? I don't know of anyone who'd hurt him...wait...what was he saying...

"And I know my faults and foolishnesses and idiosyncrasies a whole lot better now than when we first met..." He adds, his eyes shining in a familiar poignant way, as if to haunt me with his beauty

By when we first met he means when he drunkenly assumed I was the caterer during my first time at the Architectural Digest gala and tried to slip me a hundred quid note with his number on it.

"Like what?" I pry, just so we're clear on what's happening here, on why it was happening here, now...

"I'm not as patient as I hoped I would be... and sometimes I do stupid things because I...am afraid." he states gently, the words slipping through a dry throat

I think my knees actually just give out from trying to actively suppress a hope I hadn't dared to let myself have

"of me?" I wonder softly, shakily holding onto his arms in the hopes that I won't faint

He shakes his head, massaging the back of his neck as his gaze pierces mine

"Not of you... never...never of you. I was afraid of the gap between who I was and who I would have to be to deserve you and how much I wanted to deserve you... I want to deserve you. My soul reeks of that wanting mo gradh, of how dear you are to me, of all the ways in which I love you as though you were the blood in my heart and I'm in love with you as though you were the only star in my sky...and then there's the yearning...because it's not enough to love and be in love with you if I go about it like a wretched fool, if I hurt instead of heal you, bind instead of free you..."

"send your harlots to beat me.. cheat me...embarrass me in front of work colleagues?" I recall as calmly as possible even though my entire being was shaking

he loves me? HE LOVES ME?! It felt like I was drowning in the words

He chokes softly on something, a small smile coming to his lips

"I want to give you all the love you are worthy of Funke...if you'll let me." He intensely proposes

Can you believe the nerve of him! Making me draw up all these charts when he's in love with me too! The bare gumption!

"What we have between us Funke... it's the stuff of romance novels! It's the stuff I've been too scared to believe in all my life! To dream of one day deserving." He grunts, trying his best for calm yet somehow failing

I didn't even know how to breathe anymore, to function, to stand by my own feet. This fool! Idiot!

"I am yours Funke. Yours, if you'll have me. Let me in!" He pleads

Mine? Can you believe it! I'm dreaming! I'm dead! Some lunatic killed me by the corridor and this was the thing flashing before my eyes before I was sent to hell.

"Funke?" His worried voice sounds off in the distance as a ghastly heat roils through me.

I can't breathe, it's too hot, my ears are burning. This idiot! I dizzily step back, opening my dress for some air. This fucking idiot! This must be it! This is death itself ripping my soul from my body! This proper fucking idiot! Shit, I haven't been in church in a while. If Jesus exists he best forgive me my sins now! Or was I heading to hell, is that why the heat was so dizzying? I accept Jesus Christ as my lord and saviour! Take me now lion of Judah! Avenge my murder! Forgive my sins!