And blush, she did. Eleanor’s cheeks were burning, as was her stomach. Or maybe it was fluttering? Or rumbling? Tumbling? Whatever it was, it was affecting her lungs, because it felt hard to breathe, like there was a weight on her chest. And it felt amazing. And scary.
How was he doing this to her? How could he be so here, in the now, when Eleanor’s mind was three-four hours ahead? Five days? Two weeks? How were they supposed to go back to London and continue as they had before? She’d need a new job somewhere. Where? Or stay? But how would that work? Obviously Mr. Shingleton had far more experience than her, though that wasn’t to say that she was completely innocent. She had dated a couple of times, and she had lost her virginity before she had left Hogwarts, but an actual relationship? The closest to that was the nearly 8 years she had been working with him.
That patch of hair on his chest, though. There was hardly any space between them any longer. She could feel his breath on her face. Without thinking, her hand came up to rest on his chest, right above his heart. “Please don’t say snorkeling,” she said quietly, finally looking up to meet his eyes. She was almost surprised to find herself seeing him as Gaspard right now.