...reads back...catches up with own mind...gives up on mind and just starts waffling...soooo, Mr Gorgeous knows my name. Oh right, of course, I'm living in Freakout City, I forgot.
What on earth do you say when that happens? No, you don't know, do you? Because it never bloody well happens, that's why!
But he's the most attractive thing I've seen in, well, FOREVER, so I'm not going to run off straight away. At least not until he's actually got the knife out. And Pooch still seems to be having a good time. By this point I'm kind of wishing that it was my belly that was being rubbed by the attractive weirdo with the pale hands, hmmmm...
Oops. Anyway, perhaps I'm stupid or something, but I figured he didn't look like a raving sex attacker. Not that I've met many, thankfully. So I figured that I'd go and find out what the hell's going on and how come he knows my freakish name.
As I approached the caravan (trying to look confident and probably failing, especially as I tripped over a tree stump on the way but I don't think he noticed), I could see that there was furniture inside. Old furniture. Rickety chairs set around a small wooden table, a tatty sofa along one side and one of those wood burner things in the corner. Which must be where the light had been coming from - from this close I could see that there was a fire burning low behind the glass front.
Thing is, it all looked ancient, like it had been abandoned years ago. Only it couldn't have been, cos Mr Gorge is apparently living in there. It doesn't look like the sort of thing someone would steal - you'd have to be pretty dedicated to steal an enormous pile of wood on wheels and just move it to a random spot in the local woods. Or pretty nuts. And so far as I could see so far, he was just pretty, full stop.
So yeah, off I go to my Dooooooooooooom... And was surprised again, because he was friendly and chirpy and spoke as if we were old friends.
"Hey Lily, how're you doing? Cold, isn't it?"
Right, by this point I'm convinced that I'm hallucinating. In which case I may as well just go along with it and see where my twisted imagination is taking me. So it's only polite to talk back, yes?
"Ummmm...I'm okay. I think? At least I was..." Aaaarrrrghhhh, shutupshutupshutUP!!! I'm such an idiot. Start again. Deep breath.
"Hi. I'm Lily. Only you know that, so, erm, yes. And you are?" (insert 'quaking-in-boots' symbol here).
"I'm Finn. Short for Finleigh. I had weird parents". We both laughed, I guess he knows how I feel. Common ground, woo!
"The fire's going down - hang on, I'll put some more wood on it. Give me a sec." The weirdo-whose-name-is-Finn goes to get logs from an old basket by the side of the burner. Now I'm in the doorway I can see that there's an old kettle on top of the burner - he must use it as a cooker.
With a twinge of betrayal I see that Pooch has made himself cosy on an old rug in front of the fire. Bloody stupid traitor dog - what if I was being abducted, fat lot of good he would be. I'd have been better off bringing Flora, my cat. She hates anyone she doesn't know and hates anyone coming between me and her even more. She sleeps on my pillow and glares at Pooch, who never notices. And who's currently snoring in the middle of the potential murderer's lair. Idiot.
"Are you ok? You look distracted" - Finn's staring at me with an amused look in his eyes. Eek, don't look at me, I will blush and look stupid and probably start talking crap and make a prize idiot of myself and run away and never again find myself standing in the semi-dark in the presumed home of a very gorgeous man who I've never met in my life and may have all sorts of motives for getting me here. And who knows me better than I know him, let's not forget that bit of info. Erm, right. Yes, I am a bit distracted lovely man, how did you guess?
"I'm fine. Been here long?" Stupid question. Stupid stupid stupid.
"Forever." not even looking up.
"Right. So a long time then. Erm, how come you know my name?" Cos that at least is a logical question, no?
"I've always known you, Lily." A slow smile. Friendly, or the smile of a cobra waiting to strike? I'm not exactly sure. My back's to the door and he's on the other side of the table, I could probably make a run for it. But he's tall and lanky and looks fit - I bet he could outrun me easily. And the stupid sodding dog is still snoring gently on the floor, I'd have to try to grab him first.
"I'm not here to hurt you, why would I do that?" Now he looks offended. Great. I've offended the weird man that I've never met before because I haven't immediately assumed that he is safe to be around. But in all honesty he does sound genuine. I've always been pretty good at judging people - sixth sense, Mum calls it. I can sort of see through people, I guess. And Finn seems ok, ridiculous as that sounds in the circumstances. My instincts don't seem to be springing up and screaming 'run awaaaaaay', and that should mean something.
At which point I decided I'd trust him. You only live once, right? And it may as well be short and interesting rather than long and dull, that's my theory. Let's face it, the opportunity to sit in a cosy old caravan with a very attractive older man who seems to know and like me without me having to actually hold a conversation and risk him realising what an idiot I really am...yup, that's worth taking a few risks for, I reckon.
Shit, Mum's coming in and I'm supposed to have tidied up. What I have actually been doing is wandering round the house taking yesterday's events apart minute by minute and trying to reassemble them in a way that makes logical sense. So far I'm failing.