Page 54 of On Circus Lane

Tom huffs. “Hey, I’msupercultured. I’m into all that… all that shit.”

Sal breaks into laughter. “I’m very tempted to come too,” she says, eyeing him intently. “Just to see you do culture shit, Tom.”

He scratches his ear, looking rather discomposed. “Well, I’m going if it’s okay with you, Bee?” he says suddenly, obviously realising he’s invited himself along.

Everyone’s heads turn to me like they’re at Wimbledon, and I feel my cheeks get hot. “That would be great,” I say.

He obviously hears the truth in my voice, because his lips curve into one of those smiles I like so much. Maybe too much.

Freddy stands up. “Okay, how about we meet up for dinner tonight at that Mexican restaurant Sal was on about last night, and then do the ghost tour afterwards?”

We all agree, and Sal grins. “I’ll book the tour, and you can pay me back later.”

Freddy smirks at Tom. “I’ll think of you when I’m ziplining, sweetie. You and the Lewis chessmen.”

Tom rolls his eyes. “Just so you know, I’ve thought of a novel place to insert the king, and it hasnothingto do with chess.”

Freddy roars with laughter and bends down to smooch Tom until Tom shouts in disgust and shoves him off. “That sounds like more your thing than mine.” Freddy winks at me. “Try and keep control of him, Bee. He’s ananimalin a museum.”

“How would you know?” Tom protests. “I don’t think you’ve ever set foot in one.”

“And that’s where you’d be wrong. I did the Guinness Storehouse in Dublin. I’mveryknowledgeable about Guinness.”

With a lot of laughter, everyone stands up and leaves in a chorus of insults and jokes. Jack is the last to go, with Steven clutching tightly to his hand as if he’s about to escape. Jack directs one last yearning look at Tom before he’s pulled out of the door.

“Poor fucker,” Tom says, stretching.

I try to ignore the length of his legs in those faded jeans. I’m also trying to ignore the fact that we’re alone with a whole day ahead of us.

I stand up abruptly and brandish my list at his startled face. “We’d better make a start,” I say briskly. “I’d like to do Holyrood before the crowds get there.”

He blinks and then gives me another easygoing smile. There’s an edge of sweetness to it that I try to ignore. I’m burying my head in the sand so much on this holiday that I could be a desert mole.

“Okay,” he says. “I’ll grab my coat.”

I look out of the window. The snow has stopped, but it’s very grey, with thick clouds scudding over the sky. “Do you think it’ll snow again?”

“Yep,” he says, heading out of the room. “We’ll have a few more inches before nighttime,” he calls.

“Just what every boy wants to hear.” I wander to the door of his room and lean against the jamb, watching him pull his coat on and check his pockets for his wallet. The white sheets on his bed are rumpled, the pillow dented, and the whole room smells of his sexy woodsy scent. I take a surreptitious breath. It’s very intimate being here where he sleeps. More intimate than shagging him somehow. I look up and catch his eye and straighten.

“Let’s go, then,” I say briskly and march towards the door.

“Aren’t you missing something?” he calls after me.

“Eh? What?”

He points at my feet, his eyes twinkling. “Maybe some shoes today, and hey, go wild and put on a coat too.”

I dart to my room. “I’m just excited toseethings,” I call.

The wind hits us as soon as we emerge from the apartment courtyard. “Jesus,” I gasp, pulling my scarf up higher.

“Will you be warm enough?” he asks, eyeing me with concern.

I glance up at him in surprise. I’m not used to the way he throws concern for my welfare at me like confetti—casual, light, and bright. “How can I be cold in my lovely new coat and boots?”

He grins at me, and we start to walk along, our boots crunching in the thick snow. I stop, startled, when he tugs my arm. “What?”

---