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Gabe stood, chest still heaving, just a few inches away. He looked frustrated and ashamed of himself…and, gah. So lush .
    “Even if I wasn’t your niece,” I whispered, “I’d still be nearly half your age. And a bit tipsy.”
    He gave a helpless shrug, a smile just teasing the edge of his mouth. “I think that’s kind of hot.” Then he plunged balled fists into his pockets as he stamped a foot. “Fuck. I’m going to the nastiest bit of hell, aren’t I?”
    I twisted my hair in my hand, needing something to fill my palms desperately. Concentrate! “Even if I wasn’t young and drunk, I’ve got a girlfriend.”
    “Your list of excuses is getting annoying, y’know.”
    “They’re not excuses. They’re reasons.”
    “ Well.” He swallowed heavily. “Now they’re reasons …you still buy them?”
    “Is it even still cheating if you’re a guy and she’s a girl, do you think?” I can’t believe I said that. I was such a callous bitch. Not that logic had been welcome in my head lately for anything.
    “ Do you care? Honestly?” Gabe nudged the button fly of my shorts and I jumped as if he’d poked me with a skewer. “This isn’t going away. I tried. I really tried. And I kept looking for reasons that you wouldn’t be interested—they ended up just sounding like excuses. Danni, whatever we do, it stays here.”
    Panic. Panic. My pulse thumped painfully in my ears and before he could reach for me again, I slammed the door in his face and twisted the catch on.
    He groaned. “I’m sorry. I’ll call your Mum if you want her to pick you—”
    “No!” I shrieked. “I just…I need some time…”
    “Okay. Okay. I’ll be out here if you need me. When you need me.”
    When you need me. Oh God. It’s like he knows.
    He does know.
    I paced. Ruffled my hair. I waved my phone around like a moron as if it might magically catch some signal (why didn’t I text Esmé at the pub? Oh yes, that’s right—I was too busy lusting after Gabe). Nothing shook away the smell of the cider on his breath before he kissed me, or the penetrating sweetness of it as he kissed me—
    I was exhausted.
    In the end, I stripped off and climbed beneath a single sheet, hoping the dark of sleep would soothe me. It was only the afternoon; a nap wouldn’t hurt. It’d recharge my brain and I’d wake up with some common sense. Right?
    Right…?
     
    ***
     
    It was gone five when I woke up. The sky had turned to shreds of inky ribbon and I was covered in goose pimples from the cool air. I added a little cardigan to my outfit, taking the time to comb out my bed-head and brush my teeth before I emerged.
    Gabe sat hunched on the sofa, elbows welded to his knees. Football buzzed quietly on the TV. He jumped up when he noticed me, rubbing his nose absently.
    “I fell asleep,” I said.
    “I figured.” He raised an eyebrow as he looked me up and down. “Are you all right?”
    This appeared to be code for are you still bothered that I molested you earlier ?
    Did it count as molesting if I’d have chopped off my pinky to do it again?
    I gave a slow nod.
    “Right. Well.” He gestured to the door. “I set a picnic up outside if you’re hungry.”
    “Have we got elderflower pressé and cucumber sandwiches?”
    He grinned. “No. Sorry to disappoint you.”
    I padded out behind him to the clearing. He’d laid the blanket out beneath the stretched arms of a silver birch, and the shell-patterned cushions were piled neatly beside it.
    I flopped down, cross-legged and already too warm again in the sun’s sticky grasp. Gabe landed beside me and reached for the bottle of 7Up.
    “See?” He offered me a glass. “I’m being good. No more booze.”
    “Congratulations. What have we got to eat? I’m starving.”
    Sandwiches, cupcakes and chunks of fresh fruit were laid on gingham-print paper plates. It was kind of romantic. And…adorable.
    “Paper plates aren’t very eco,” I teased, licking the icing from the top of a