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“I’m as in as you are out!”

“Then let’s get this fairy show on the road,” he winked.

About midday, Tate let himself in, armed with an arsenal of camp DVDs and enough sugar-filled candy that he could have been Willy Wonka himself. I settled on the sofa and Tink and Tate sprawled out on the sheepskin rug in front of the fire.

We made light conversation, and they were talking animatedly about the view of the skyline from the rotating Calgary Tower. I let my gaze wander around the room and smiled when it landed on the vase full to the brim of sunflowers. They always made me happy.

Tate interrupted my day dream. “Do you like the sunflowers, Tash?”

I beamed. “They are my absolute favourite, I can’t believe you knew to get me them. Talk about being bang on.”

He coughed, hiding a grin.

“What?” I inquired, confused.

“Err, I actually picked tulips for you. Tudor was watching me from the car, and when he saw me picking the tulips, he got out – even though he hates to be noticed – marched into the store and said that the tulips didn’t suit you at all. He searched the shop and stopped dead in his tracks at the sunflowers. He picked as many as he could carry and took them to the counter. When I asked why he chose them, he said that they reminded him of you. Said that they were bright and bold and that they always make people smile – funny how spot on he was, eh? Plus, the woman who owned the shop had no clue who he was – so I’d say it was a successful trip all around!”

I could feel the heat rising to my face, glowing red. How weird that he knew that I adored them. What was he, a bloody flower psychic?

‘Mmm, Natasha these sunflowers are the botanical personification of you and your exuberant personality.’

“Erm yeah, he picked well I guess,” I said, flustered.

Tink suddenly interjected, “Why didn’t he give her them himself, then? If he went through all that risk to get them for her, why let you take all the glory?” He wasn’t being bitchy, just genuinely curious.

Tate squirmed. “He thought it may have looked a bit forward and he didn’t want her to get the wrong idea, you know, receiving flowers from a movie star, most people would think it meant more than a ‘I’m sorry I gave you a concussion’ and more of a ‘My dreams are coming true, a movie star loves me!’”

My heart sank right down to my big toe. If I had harboured any remaining delusion that Tudor liked me as more than a friend, maybe even just as a ‘Mmm it could maybe happen one day’ or even just a ‘I bet Tash would be a cracking shag’, then that comment alone killed it.

After a few moments of increasingly awkward silence as Tate became aware he might have just put his size nine winkle-picker in his mouth, I suggested we put on the first film.

Tink looked at me as his new fellow operated the DVD, and mouthed, “You alright?”

I smiled and nodded. Tink knew what I had been fighting against in my head. I liked Tudor... a lot.

There, I’ve said it!

I let out a dejected sigh. “What we starting with, Tater-Tot?” I teased, using Tink’s inventive pet name.

“Priscilla okay?” I could tell he was worried he’d offended me.

“Yep, let’s watch a c**k in a frock on a rock,” I quoted.

He gave a shy grin, and we settled back and watched our fill of Australian drag queens bopping to the soundtrack of Cece Peniston and lots of ‘fucking’ Abba.

We had just started the second film in our movie-marathon day, The Rocky Horror Picture Show, when there was a knock at the door. Tink jumped up and seconds later he walked back in, followed by Tudor. My fairy drew my attention and gave me his ‘I told you so’ glare.

Tudor moved from behind him to meet my eyes, and gave me his lop-sided smirk. The killer Tudor smirk.

Heart. Skips. A. Beat.

“Hey, Tash. How are you today?” he asked in an upbeat tone.

He looked good, as always. Hell, who am I kidding, he looked positively edible. He had on dark-wash jeans and a fitted long black T-shirt, showing the top of his tattoo-coated pecs and as ever, a matching black beanie hat. I quickly glanced down at myself, not remembering what I had thrown on haphazardly that morning. Standard black leggings and long denim shirt with my hair in a messy bun and the puppies pushed together, creating a fabulous cle**age. Not too shabby.

“I’m feeling loads better, thanks. Cheers for looking after me last night. Sorry I wasn't awake when you left.”

He smiled back at me, flashing the delicious dimples, and shrugged. “No problem, glad I could help.”

I stared at him, my head tilted to the side in contemplation. He seemed different – friendlier, and not as stiff. He was speaking to me like one of the guys, where before he had been more intense.

He headed in my direction, jumped onto the couch next to me and scooped up some of the sweet popcorn I was clutching in my hands, pushing the whole lot into his mouth.

“You hungry?” I teased.

He lightly punched my shoulder. “Always hungry for your goods, Tash.” he laughed.

He punched my arm, my friggin’ arm! Well shucks, friend-zone it is.

“Tate was just telling us that it was actually you that chose the sunflowers for Wil,” Tink chirped up as I nursed the burgeoning bruise on my upper tricep.

Tudor fidgeted and blushed under the fairy’s steely gaze, rubbing his lips together, exposing his dimples. “Oh, yeah... I did.”

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