Authors: Mila Gray
and jogs upstairs to get dressed. Jessa’s waiting by the
back door and as soon as I unlock it she comes darting
inside. She’s skittery and nervous, and she looks anx-
iously over my shoulder. I put a hand on her waist and
pull her behind the kitchen door. She looks up at me with
those eyes as wide as the ocean and gives me a smile −
the smile of someone who just got away with a bank
heist; or the smile of a girl who just spent the night
making out under the stars.
I kiss her and she loops her arms around my neck.
Somehow, maybe because we’re in her kitchen, maybe
because we know we could be walked in on at any
moment, or maybe just because we’re both still buzzing
on the memory of the night and the relief of having got
away with it, this kiss is the hottest yet. For the first time I
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let my hands rove from her waist, stroking up her sides,
my thumb tracing the curve of her breast. She inhales
loudly, pushing her hips against my now very obvious
erection. Crap. I take a step back, holding her at arm’s
length, and take a deep breath. Down boy. I don’t want to
try explaining that one to Riley.
Jessa grins at me, a dangerous look in her eye. Oh, she
knows. I shake my head at her. This girl is going to get
me into all sorts of trouble.
Bring it
, is my brain’s shame-
lessly immediate response.
‘Can I see you later?’ I ask, cursing myself for how
eager I sound.
She nods.
‘OK, I’ll call you,’ I tell her, then remember I don’t have
her number. ‘Wait,’ I say, pulling out my phone, ‘what’s
your number?’
Jessa takes the phone out of my hand and quickly taps
in her number. I watch her, feeling a buzz in the pit of
my stomach at the possibility that this girl might become
mine. When she’s done she hands me back my phone
with a shy smile. For a moment I forget where I am and
can think only about pulling her into my arms again and
feeling her body against mine. I take a deep breath. Riley
will be back any second.
‘You should go, get some sleep,’ I say. Go, before I
really am put in a compromising position, is what I’m
thinking.
Jessa smiles at me, biting her bottom lip (imagining
something that’s against the rules, I hope), then reaches
up on tiptoe to kiss me goodbye. Just as she does, the
door swings open and we both jump back as Riley walks
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into the kitchen. He stops mid-step as he takes a look at
Jessa and me and I can see his instincts flare.
‘What are you doing up?’ he asks Jessa, eyes narrowed.
‘I heard the doorbell,’ Jessa answers smoothly before
looking at me and crossing her arms over her chest.
‘Thanks for that,’ she snarks. ‘You know, some of us like
to lie in on a Sunday morning.’
‘Sorry,’ I tell her, shrugging, and take the opportunity
to position myself behind the counter before her brother
can join the dots: Miss Scarlet slaying Colonel Mustard in
the kitchen with a candlestick.
‘You want water?’ Jessa asks me now, turning and
reaching up into a cabinet for a glass.
My eyes dip straightaway to her ass. I mean, she’s
wearing the shortest pair of shorts imaginable and she’s
stretched on tiptoe right in front of me. The girl is taunt-
ing me. Jessa Kingsley, innocent, sweet Jessa Kingsley is
sexually taunting me. And I am sexually slain. I’m just
glad I had the foresight to stand behind the counter.
Jessa fills up the glass and then hands it to me. She
holds my gaze, trying hard not to smirk. I think of all
the ways I’d like to transform that smirk into something
else.
‘What were you doing last night?’
I look over at Riley who’s looking at me the same
way I’ve seen him look at people he’s interrogating. Did
he just see me staring at his sister’s ass? I look back at
Jessa who’s leaning against the countertop with her head
cocked, arms crossed against her chest and an amused
expression on her face.
‘Oh, you know,’ I mumble. I’m not half as good as Jessa
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at this whole acting business and I’m not used to lying to
Riley. ‘Not much. You?’ I deflect.
‘I hung out with Jo,’ he answers, the suspicion imme-
diately transforming into a sly smile. He must have got
some. ‘So, good to go?’ he asks, heading for the front
door.
‘See you later,’ Jessa says, sauntering past us and up
the stairs.
I stare after her behind Riley’s back like a starving man
in front of a feast, having to consciously stop my feet
from following her up the stairs.
‘Yeah,’ I call back, ‘laters.’
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Jessa
‘Tell me everything!’ Didi demands the moment I sit
down beside her. ‘Every little thing! I want all the sordid
details.’ Her eyes bulge like satellite dishes. ‘Did you . . . ?’
‘No!’ I say. ‘And I’ve told you everything already.’ She
was the first person I called when I woke up this after-
noon.
‘Does he have a big—’
‘Didi!’ I yell. ‘I wouldn’t know!’
Didi pulls her sunglasses down her nose, which is
wrinkling in disappointment. ‘So you didn’t . . . ’
‘Oh my God, Didi! How many times do I have to tell
you? We just kissed. That’s all. There was no sex.’
Didi collapses back down on her towel with a sigh,
pressing a hand to her heart. ‘It’s just so romantic.’
I cover my smile by pulling off my T-shirt and adjust-
ing the straps on my bikini self-consciously. Didi always
chooses the busiest section of the beach to lay out her
towel, and today is no exception. If the beach were a
stadium concert, we’d be in the middle of the mosh pit.
I’d rather be somewhere away from the pier, somewhere
quieter, but I know Didi won’t move. Her eyes are glued
to the group of guys beside us who are playing a sweaty,
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boisterous game of volleyball. That would be why Didi
chose this spot – so she could have front row seats.
Didi seems convinced that life is a conspiracy, a game
that the rest of us get to play while she’s trapped on the
sidelines watching, waiting for someone to come along
and invite her to join in − preferably someone riding a
white stallion and carrying a bouquet of red roses. This is
why she always places herself in the centre of any action,
to increase the chances of being in the right place at the
right time when he does arrive. Didi never wavers in her
belief that one day he will, and for that I admire her.
Though I also worry she’s reading too many historical
romance novels with bare-chested, chisel-jawed men on
the front covers.
I’m sure it won’t be too long a wait, though, consider-
ing the attention she’s attracting in her polka-dot two-
piece. It makes her look like a 1950s pin-up, giving an
upward thrust to her boobs that Madonna would be jeal-
ous of. Didi would never go anywhere or be seen by
anyone without her make-up and hair in perfect order.
Even at the beach she exudes glamour. Next to her I blend
into the sand like a chameleon.
Didi suddenly props herself up on her elbows. ‘Show
me the text message he sent.’
I rootle in my bag for my phone and hand it to her.
‘How am I supposed to use this?’ she asks after staring at
it for several seconds. ‘It’s in Arabic.’
I take it from her. I’ve not yet managed to fix the lan-
guage setting. But I have at least figured out how to
open messages, so while I still can’t send any, I can read
incoming ones. When I woke up I might have thought
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everything with Kit had been a dream if it weren’t for my
chapped lips and his text.
‘Oh my God,’ Didi sighs dramatically, reading out
loud. ‘
I had a great night. Sweet dreams
.’ She holds the
phone to her chest and looks at me. ‘He is
so
into you.’
My heart does a little bounce at the words. Is he? Every
time I remember the way he kissed me I get a flutter in
my stomach, but is he into me in the way that Didi’s sug-
gesting? A tiny voice of doubt nags at me. This is Kit, who
has never dated anyone for longer than a week. Kit, who
really knows how to kiss (and must have learned that
somewhere). And then there’s my inclination towards
suspicion. If anything good ever happens to me, it usu-
ally has a price tag attached. Like the time I was fifteen
and won an open-call audition for the part of Lyra in a
theatre production of
His Dark Materials
and my dad
refused to let me do it. Or the time a boy I liked – Matt
Trenton – asked me to his junior prom. I was so excited,
bought a new dress, spent weeks fantasizing about finally
getting my first kiss, and then my dad went and ruined it
all. When Matt came by to collect me, my dad dragged
him into his study for
a few words
. I’m not sure exactly
what those words were, but when Matt came back out, he
could barely look me in the eye and for the whole even-
ing he kept at least three foot of space between us. I cried
myself to sleep that night.
Anyway, it’s why I’m cautious now about Kit. He’s like
a shiny gold coin that I want to keep in my pocket and
hold on to. I’m scared to take it out and look at it in case it
gets tarnished, or in case someone catches a glimpse of it
and tries to snatch it from me.
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‘Is he coming here?’ Didi asks, tossing back my phone.
I shake my head. ‘No, he’s going to his cousin’s. They
always have a family lunch on Sundays.’ I try not to
sound disappointed. The truth is I can’t wait to see him
again, and not knowing when that will be is making me
feel jittery.
‘What’s he like? Is he a good kisser?’ Didi asks, rolling
onto her stomach.
‘The best,’ I say, closing my eyes and getting an instant
flashback to that moment in the bushes when Kit put his
arms around my waist and drew me towards him. I don’t
have huge amounts of experience, having only kissed two
other people before him, but now I can’t even remember
the others. ‘Just . . . ’ I sigh, remembering Kit’s lips graz-
ing up my throat and suppressing a shiver . . . ‘amazing.’
‘Who’s amazing?’
Didi and I both jump. I spin around onto my back. It’s
Jo, my brother’s girlfriend. Which means Riley can’t be
far behind. Jo drops her bag into the sand and stands
there squinting down at us. She puts her hands on her
hips and a sly smile stretches her lips. ‘Are you two talk-
ing about boys?’
‘No,’ I say immediately, feeling my cheeks starting to
get hot.
‘Yes,’ says Didi at exactly the same time.
Jo cocks her head, her brown eyes narrowed. I kick
Didi with my foot, managing to spray sand all over the
towels. It’s not that I don’t trust Jo, but at the end of the
day she’s Riley’s girlfriend and I can’t take a chance on
him finding out about Kit and me.
Didi flares her eyes at me, warning me to just go along
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with whatever she’s about to say next. ‘We were just dis-
cussing a guy I’m really into,’ she says, grinning up at Jo.
‘Who?’ Jo asks, collapsing down beside us, her eyes
bright with the lure of gossip.
‘Um, I met him at a party,’ Didi says.
I have to stop myself from pulling a face or kicking her
again. Didi is the worst at lying. Where is she going with
this?
‘What’s his name?’ Jo asks.
Didi freezes. Her eyes dart briefly towards mine and
I can see she’s starting to panic. ‘Peter,’ she suddenly
blurts.
Peter? Where did she get that from? I jump to my feet.
I need to cut this conversation short before Didi digs a
huge hole for us.
‘I’m going for a swim. Coming?’ I say, glaring down at
her.Didi bounces to her feet. ‘Sure,’ she says, looking
thoroughly relieved at the out I just threw her.
‘Thanks for that,’ I mumble as we jog to the water.
‘That was a totally awesome save.’
‘Any time,’ Didi answers, flashing me a smile.
I do a double-take, not sure if she’s being serious.
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Kit
The sand is burning hot but I don’t even notice − I’m too
busy scanning the bodies on the beach trying to find
Jessa. I feel like I do just before we head out on man-