The flat in South Kensington had exactly three rules.
Don’t leave dirty mugs in the sink.
Replace the milk if you finish it.
And never, under any circumstances, steal Theodore Nott’s hoodies.
The first two were written on a sticky note stuck to the fridge. The third had simply become law.
Mia Blackmore stood in the tiny kitchen at seven-thirty on a rainy Tuesday morning wearing one anyway.
It was too big for her, the sleeves swallowing her hands as she stirred sugar into her coffee. It smelled faintly of cedarwood, expensive cologne, and something that was just… Theo.
“You know,” came a sleepy voice from the doorway, “I’m starting to think you own more of my clothes than I do.”
She looked over her shoulder, grinning.
“You’ve never complained before.”
“Because you always give them back.”
“I do not.”
“You absolutely do.”
He was smiling now—that crooked, effortless smile that had become dangerously familiar over the last two years of sharing a flat while studying at university in London.
They’d fallen into living together by accident. Housing disaster. Mutual friends. One spare bedroom.
It had been supposed to last a semester.
Now they couldn’t imagine living with anyone else.
Theo knew exactly how she liked her tea. Mia knew he couldn’t concentrate unless there was music playing quietly in the background. He remembered every deadline she had before she did. She always left the hallway light on when he came home late from the library.
It was easy.
Comfortable.
Home.
Which was precisely why neither of them questioned it.
Or maybe they questioned it far too often.
Because every now and then Theo would catch himself staring when Mia laughed, and he’d immediately remind himself that she was his best friend.
Then he’d remember he had a girlfriend.
Cecilia was lovely. Clever. Beautiful. She adored him.
He should have been thinking about her.
Instead, he found himself wondering if Mia had remembered to bring an umbrella.
Across the kitchen, Mia watched him rub sleep from his eyes and tried very hard not to notice how unfairly attractive he looked first thing in the morning.
She definitely didn’t notice.
Not the messy dark hair.
Not the way his voice was always lower when he’d just woken up.
Not the fact that he’d unconsciously reached for her coffee mug instead of his own.
Because Theodore Nott had a girlfriend.
And Mia Blackmore was an expert at pretending that fact didn’t sting.
Outside, London carried on beneath a curtain of rain.
Inside their little flat, two people hopelessly in love with each other continued making breakfast as though they were simply roommates.
Neither of them had any idea how much longer that illusion could last.