“Oh, no. I don’t know what to cook.”

“Here. I found some aspirin.” Miles handed me a blister pack of aspirin. “Take these, and I’ll figure out some food.”

“We’re running out of time. The power will go.”

“Yes, but standing here arguing with me isn’t going to cook food any faster,” he replied. “Take the painkillers, and we might stand half a chance.”

I knew he was right. The problem was that I didn’t want him to be.

Begrudgingly, I poured a glass of water and popped two tablets out of the pack, then took them. Hopefully they would start working soon, and I’d be able to move around like a normal person instead of hobbling.

“Do you have spaghetti?”

“Tinned, or…?”

Miles actually fought a smile. “Have you ever made Bolognese with tinned spaghetti?”

“I can’t say I have,” I mused. “If there is, it’ll be in the pantry.” I turned towards the door that led to the pantry where all the non-perishables were stored and pulled it open.

“I could—”

“Nonsense. I can walk. I twisted my ankle; I didn’t cut off my foot.” And my socks had paw-shaped non-slip things on the bottoms, because I was an adult, and if I wanted to wear socks aimed at ten-year-olds then I bloody well would.

I hit the switch to turn on the light and hummed, looking around.

Well.

There was a lot of food in here.

“I might need some help after all,” I said, looking around at various tins and jars, some of which contained homemade jams, chutneys, and honey from the beehives on the estate. “There’s a lot of stuff in here, it’ll be quicker with us both.”

“I’ve found the pans, let me just boil this water.” There was a clink and a clunk followed by the tell-tale sign of one of the gas rings coming to life to heat the water. “All right, spaghetti.” Miles joined me in the pantry and looked around. “You could live in here.”

“Only if you had a tin opener,” I muttered, eying the tins of soup. “Can you see the spaghetti?”

“Not yet.” He spun, scanning the shelves as I did. “Oh, there it is. Right up there.” He leaned over, and the light cut off, plunging us into darkness.

And he was pressed right up against my body.

Like.

Right there.

Chest to chest.

My nose was touching his collarbone kind of against each other.

This was not good.

I swallowed and reached out to grip onto the shelf next to me, making two jars clink together. “Is that the power?” I whispered as if speaking any louder would mean I’d raise some sort of pantry monster desperate to raid jars of green tomato chutney.

“I think so,” Miles replied, his voice just as low as mine. “Want me to try the switch?”

“No, I’d like to stand here in the dark with you in my personal space.”

Could he feel how fast my heart was beating?