Calloway // Michael Gray x Reader - Peaky Blinders Fanfic

Chapter 23

Calloway

Michael holds me all night.

Every so often I'll wake, tangled up in his arms with our faces inches apart as I caress his cheek. His eyelids will flutter, and he'll lean in and kiss me, and we'll savour each other until we fall asleep again.

This is only going to hurt.

I realise it as the first rays of morning light creep through the curtains. I lie there, frozen, dreading the tap at the window. The signal that this strange truce we keep reaching is over once more, and the reality of our situation sinks in. Holy shit, is it going to hurt.

Because I suddenly find myself wanting to be nowhere else but with him, like this. I find myself longing for him in every moment. His skin against mine, him holding me close as he sleeps. These things have become so heavenly and so sacred.

But there is no way this can last outside the walls of this hotel. I'm fighting to disentangle myself from one set of illegal dealings, not get involved in more of them. Michael's as stubborn as I am, and between us, we'll never find peace. He'll end up resenting me and I'll end up detesting him. It'll be that, or prison for laundering the Peaky Blinders' money.

I'll be right back where I started.

I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment longer. Savouring the feeling of him pressed against me. I have grown to care for Michael so much over the course of the week, I don't even know how much worse this will be if I leave it any longer.

Slowly, I untangle myself from him.

Slowly, I command myself to detach.

***

I cannot look at Michael as we both get ready. I can barely speak to him. Barely be around him. And frustratingly, he makes no grand efforts to change this — he merely does the same to me.

I frown. It's ridiculous that it should bother me — but it does. He seems completely uninterested, casually spraying cologne, adjusting his tie, and styling his hair. This is what I want, I try to remind myself. This is the best way for things to be.

"Time?" He asks without even looking at me.

I clear my throat and check the watch, silently rejoicing at a reason to speak to him. "Almost nine."

I wait for him to say something more, but he remains silent. He's treating me... Well, he's treating me exactly how I've been planning to treat him.

This should be ideal. This should make my life so much easier — Untangle. Detach. It's either that or facing prison.

Then he speaks, and my heart leaps in my chest. "I'm getting tired of playing this game, Cal."

I freeze beside the window. "What game?" I barely whisper.

"The game where we pretend we don't like each other." He turns to face me, raising an eyebrow slightly.

Fuck. The last thing I need is him testing me when I'm already so close to folding. "It's not a game," I insist, crossing my arms and balling my hands into fists.

"No?" He takes a step closer. "So, you don't like me?"

I take a breath. "I don't like you."

He blinks. "You're blushing."

"I am not," I insist, growing flustered. "It's just very warm."

"It's winter."

"Alright, fine." I swallow down my nerves. "But just because we've... You know, doesn't mean I've caught feelings." But then I pause. "You say you're playing this game. Does that mean you like me?"