There was something about the name Henry, I decided as I gazed at the Henry before me with sweat beading on his forehead as he squatted with weights. My eyes flickered to the Henry behind him on the screen who was looking equally appealing and decided that perhaps watching the Witcher hadn't been the best idea.

Too much testosterone and too much of ruggedly attractive men doing rugged, attractive man activities. Like weight lifting and stabby stabby things.

My attention drifted from the screen to the room again and I watched as Henry sat down and switched to a slightly smaller weight with curiosity. Every movement was precise, as though he had done it a thousand times before and it was essentially muscle memory now. Looking at how defined every inch of him was, I was fairly certain he did this frequently.

He raised his legs and began doing twists where he dipped the weight either side of his body. He was so focused, so intent he didn't notice my regular sideways glances. Even when they became sideways stares. I wasn't sure how he had managed to keep it up for nearly the entire first episode apart from two breaks where he gulped down water like he was dying of dehydration.

He switched again, glancing over at me and I quickly returned my attention to the screen and pretended I hadn't been looking.

When I finally dared to peek again, he stood with a weight in either hand, slowly lifting them one at a time in a curl that made his t-shirt strain as the muscle beneath it flexed.

I licked my lips. Was it hot in here or was it just me?

I tried to focus on the Witcher again but even the amazing plot couldn't keep my eyes from drifting back to him.

"Wow," Henry said, finally putting down his weight and sitting on the floor to lean back against the sofa as the credits rolled, "that was intense!"

I wanted to throw back some witty response, but my brain had apparently short circuited from the exposure to an unreasonably attractive man.

Henry turned to look over his shoulder at me, "Did you enjoy it?" He asked, a little awkwardly, as though small talk didn't come naturally or perhaps he just hadn't tried it in a while.

"Yeah, it was good." I replied, still caught up in my thoughts.

"Just good?" Now it was Henry's turn to frown.

"Really good." I forced a smile.

It was very hard to engage in conversation with someone who made sweaty look soo good. Why didn't more people look like that after exercise? If I looked like that afterwards I might be tempted to actually try it more often!

"Really good?" Henry repeated, running a hand through damp hair.

My mouth was suddenly dry, and I forgot how to form a sentence as he stood. My mind just kept repeating 'really good' as it scanned his unhelpfully attractive form. This was seriously testing my resolve to help him as a friend.

I tore my eyes away and forced myself to focus on the shelves behind him.

"Ok, well I'm going to go shower and then we can work out what we both want for dinner?" Henry suggested.

I nodded, still refusing to look at him. He paused for a moment, seeming confused by my behaviour. He wouldn't be if he could see just how that top clung to him now.

With a shrug, he placed the weights back in their rightful place and headed off upstairs.

All my breath came out of me in a rush and I fanned my face with the edge of the blanket. It was almost unfair really how good he looked.

In an effort to distract myself, I retrieved my phone from where it had slipped between the sofa cushions at some point during the episode.

Absentmindedly scrolling Facebook I really thought the universe was trying to tell me something. An advert for a dating website, two 'we just got engaged' photos, one 'we've got a little Christmas pudding on the way' baby announcement and article after article of top tips for finding the one!

Finally, a lovely festive image proudly proclaiming that the people in this list would be getting mind-blowing sex for Christmas. My name never, ever appeared on any of these lists. But there it was. At the top of column two. I made a distinctly unladylike noise. "I wish," I mumbled under my breath.

My phone screen darkened as it reminded me that 10% battery just wasn't going to cut it. With a groan I pulled myself to my feet, instantly missing the warmth of the throw blanket. Taking the stairs two at a time I hurried up to my room. It was funny how I already thought of it as my room I mused, pulling the duvet up round myself and reaching over to plug in my phone.

I could hear the sound of the shower going and tried very hard not to picture Henry in it, the beads of water running down his-

I shook my head to stop that thought before it had finished forming. What I needed was a good plan to distract me. Scrolling through my online orders I focused on formulating the perfect Christmas plan.

Tomorrow, most of the decorations would arrive and I was pretty sure I could get them up relatively quickly. Then it would be Monday and though I knew we were working, I was determined that, at some point this week, I would get him to sing or dance to a Christmas song with me.

Then when the weekend came about again, it would be gingerbread house making and Christmas cookies fun. The following week I would begin his Christmas movie education every evening until Christmas Eve.

I frowned at the pang of sadness I felt at the idea of leaving him. It was strange how fast his house had felt like home. How fast, he was beginning to feel like home.

No.

I scolded my heart. We needed to stop acting like anything could come from the strange level of attraction between us. Something about Mister Tall, Dark and Grumpy was getting under my skin. And it wasn't just how good he was to look at.

There was a softness to him that he clearly didn't want anyone to see. A sweet guy behind the walls he put up to protect himself. Whoever got to break them down and ended up with him would be so lucky.

I slid off the bed, placing my phone onto the bedside table and stretched. How could I be so tired from doing so very little, I wondered, moving to head back downstairs. I was so tired and distracted in fact that I didn't notice the sound of the shower had stopped until I collided with Henry leaving the room.

I shrieked, my arms dramatically propelling for balance. I could never be accused of being graceful, but I looked particularly gangly as I twisted and felt myself fall. Bracing for impact I scrunched my eyes closed and tucked my head in as I went down.

But the impact never came. Peeking one eye open I came face to face with Henry. Much to my surprise he didn't look annoyed, as people often were by my clumsiness, or even his usual brand of grumpy.

His eyes were totally focused on me, lips slightly parted and breathing a little faster than normal, "probably from the weight of me" my brain pointed out, unhelpfully ruining the moment.

"Oh, I'm so sorry." I apologised, attempting to right myself.

With a crunch my forehead connected with his nose and he let out a little yelp of pain, reeling back to clutch it.

Unfortunately I hadn't quite got my balance yet and ended up in a very undignified heap on the hallway floor.

"Oh gosh, I'm so sorry! Are you ok? Did I break it?" I scrambled to my feet and tried to reach out and pull his hands back from his face so I could see the damage.

"I'm fine." He replied thickly, squinting slightly from the pain.

"Let me see." I insisted.

"Ok, ok, just don't touch it."

Peeling his fingers back so I could see, I rolled my eyes, "Don't be such a big baby. Now move a little into the light so I can see it properly."

I guided him slightly backwards down the corridor and tilted his head back to get a better look.

There was no blood at least. That was a relief for me given how embarrassingly squeamish I was, and the fact it was my fault.

"I don't think it's broken," I said softly, running a finger down it. My other hand cupped the back of his head to twist it back and forth trying to get a clear look at it from every angle.

His hair, though still damp from the shower, was so soft, and I wondered what it would be like to run her fingers through it.

Henry took my wrist in his hand and gently moved me away from his face. "Are you some sort of medical expert Ms Miller?" He asked, almost playfully.

I liked seeing this side of him. "Well, actually I have a first aid qualification I'll have you know."

"Really, did it cover this sort of situation?" Henry sounded mildly amused.

"Cover what?" I asked, realising he still hadn't let go of my wrist.

"Head-butting your boss in the face?" His shoulders were shaking with laughter now.

"Oh, don't tease me! It covered nose bleeds, and that's basically the same thing right!" I laughed, pulling my hand free and giving his chest a playful push. "Plus my certificate is only 6 months out of date so I'm basically still good at it."

Henry let out a bark of laughter. "An unqualified medical professional telling me I'm going to be ok isn't exactly reassuring Susie."

Something about the way he said my name made me shiver and realise just how close we were to each other. My hands lingered on his chest a moment longer than was appropriate and he seemed to notice. His head tilted slightly as he looked at me me and I swallowed hard.

For a moment, my eyes flickered to his lips, and then I caught myself and stepped back with great difficulty.

Those intense and unreadable eyes appraised me for a moment before he turned and moved towards the stairs. "So what did you want to do for dinner?"