Page 56 of One Wrong Move

And just like that, I’m making morning coffees together our new routine.

Harper

“You didn’t,” Aadhya says. She’s wearing the same excited expression as her friend Tamsin, sitting side by side in the upscale bar in Mayfair.

I nod. “Oh, I certainly did. Dropped the towel and everything.”

Tamsin covers her face with her hands, while Aadhya leans back. Her mouth is shaped like an O. “That’s mortifying.”

“Thanks!” I say, but I’m giggling. “I know. His face was horrified, you should have seen it.”

“Okay, I bet it wasn’t actually horrified,” Tamsin says.

“No, it was. Legitimately.” I shrug, feeling warm and happy from the glasses of wine we’ve shared. I’m so glad I asked Aadhya to come out for a drink after work tonight. And through her, I’ve now met her flatmate, Tamsin, an upbeat girl studying fashion design in the city.

The bar is vibrant, the area is buzzing, and I feel like the energy has seeped beneath my skin. This is why I moved. This is what I want.

New experiences. New people. A new chance.

“No bloke has ever been horrified at seeing a fit girl nude,” Aadhya says. She’s wearing a tiny glittery cardigan and waist-high pants. Her long, black hair is in a side braid. She’s fierce, as always. “And you’re positive he doesn’t fancy you?”

I shake my head. “No, no, it’s not like that between us.”

“Right,” Tamsin says. “He just offered you to stay in his house.”

“It’s what friends do,” I say. They don’t know that my new roommate is… well, Nate. Aadhya knows him as a gallery patron. The last thing I want is for her to realize that he and I are friends and not “the client and the art dealer.”

But I also didn’t want to lie when they asked me where I’m living. So I fudged the truth a little.

My roommate is now an unnamed old friend from New York.

“Look, I love you,” Aadhya tells her flatmate, “but if you moved in without paying rent, I’d be like… Mate, come on.”

“Me, too,” Tamsin says. But then her face turns thoughtful. “Is he gay?”

I shake my head. “No. Just not interested in me that way. Well… I don’t think he’s gay. I’ve heard plenty about him and women before, so he might be bi, I suppose.”

“Hmm,” Aadhya hums. “Is he fit? You didn’t drop your towel on purpose, did you?”

“No! He surprised me.”

“Right. Because that’s a classic trick. Give them a peek at what they’re missing,” she says and waggles her eyebrows.

“Tried that often, have you?” I ask.

Tamsin gives a dramatic sigh. “She does it every morning. You’re hot, but it’s getting tiring staring at your perfect tits and arse each day, Aads.”

We all laugh. The girls are easy to talk to, far easier than the first time I met Aadhya and thought her intimidation itself. She is, in some ways. Fierce and cool but also entirely human, the way we all are, and I’m glad we’re becoming friends.

We finish our drinks by midnight and head out. My Tube stop is in the opposite direction from theirs, so I wave goodbye to Tamsin and Aadhya outside the bar when they leave.

I dig through my bag for my headphones, my fingers brushing past my wallet and a package of gum… but there’s a conspicuous absence of jingling.

My keys.

Searching the depths of my purse reveals what I already know. Shit. I forgot them in my work bag at the gallery before we left for the bar. I’d brought the clutch for this specific purpose and only thrown in the most important things for my night out. Wallet. Headphones. Gum.

But no keys.

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