Page 4 of On Circus Lane

“Oh, she’s very charming. Have you met the rest of the family?” I shake my head, and he leans forward confidingly. “They’re all charming, but they’re a rackety bunch. Very loud and far too chaotic. Stoned all the time.” He mimes smoking a joint. “But Jack is ridiculously attached to Sal’s brother, Tom. They’ve been friends since primary school.”

I try to unpick that statement and look to Ivy for support, but she’s gone to the bar with Jack and Sal. She’s saying something that seems to require a great deal of gesticulation and laughter. Satisfied she’s okay, I turn back to Steven.

“Hmm,” I say again. I’m not very keen on bitchy people. It must show on my face because his expression changes.

“I’m sorry. That was uncalled for,” he says contritely. “I’m nervous in social situations and just tend to blurt shit. Ignore me.”

I relax instantly, feeling a wave of empathy. “I’mexactlythe same.”

“So, Sal says you’re doing your DPhil. What’s it in?” Steven smiles at me encouragingly.

“Oh, it’s in mathematics.”

“Fascinating. I work in telecommunications. We were working with a university last month. Very interesting.”

“Really?”

He starts to tell me something, but I can barely hear him over the noise. I catch sight of my redhead. He grins at me and grimaces at the packed bar where he’s still queuing. I tap my watch discreetly, and he signals that he’ll wait.

Satisfied that my late evening is sorted, I turn back to Steven. My plan is to give his monologue an encouraging nod, as I’d prefer not to talk, but his voice drifts off and his expression turns sour. Reminds me of when Scrooge took a turn down memory lane.

“What’s up?” I ask.

“Nothing,” he says, staring at a point beyond me.

Before I can turn, Ivy darts over to me. “Supreme Hottie at ten o’clock,” she hisses.

I look in the direction she’s staring. “That’s not ten. It’s more like half past—” I abruptly forget what I was going to say. Something that rarely happens, but then it’s not every day I see the most beautiful man in the world moving towards us, and even better, his attention is on our table and… me. I swallow hard.

Thick, wavy, brown hair frames a chiselled face with full, pouty pink lips. He’s tall with legs that seem to go on forever and broad shoulders. His clothes don’t quite fit in with the bar’s party atmosphere, as he’s wearing heavy work boots, jeans, and a white T-shirt spattered with mud with a red plaid shirt flung over the top. However, he’s hotter than most blokes in their holiday best, and his walk backs it up. It’s a confident, loping stride, and he’s attracting appreciative looks that he seems oblivious to.

I sit up straight and offer him my patented pulling smile. It’s never failed me yet. His eyes assess me slowly, and I smile wider. My stomach falls as, instead of smiling back, he looks straight through me, his eyes flicking beyond me as if looking for a better option. It’s an utterly dismissive look, and I flush red in embarrassment.

Arrogant wanker,I think savagely.

I look around to see if anyone has spotted him bin me off, but everyone is talking loudly and laughing.

“Oi, tosser,” he says loudly, and conversation around us dims as a few people sit up for a better view of a potential fight.

“Pardon?” I squeak.

He waves a hand at me. “Not you,” he says, his tone matching that dismissive expression. “You,” he says, pointing at Steven.

“Hello, Tom,” Steven says with a distinct note of nervousness. “Good trip?”

Tom? My eyes grow big.Thisis Tom? The lovely person I keep hearing about is this rude, gorgeous twat?

I shift a little closer to Steven, ignoring my previous reservations about him. He obviously needs backup if he’s being confronted by this idiot. Steven shoots me a grateful look.

“Where’s my house key?” Tom grits out.

Steven’s eyes open wide.“What?”

Jack and Sal appear with handfuls of drinks. Jack’s face lights up when he sees Tom, despite Tom’s sulky twat expression. “Alright, Tom?” he says. “Have you just got back?”

“I have,” Tom says grimly. He gestures theatrically at his body. “And lo and forsooth, look at my party outfit. Now ask me why I’ve embraced lumberjack chic.” He puts his hands on his narrow hips. It makes the T-shirt ride up and I’m very cross with myself for noticing the sliver of yummy olive skin and the beginning of a very interesting V-line.

“Are you drunk already?” Jack asks.

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