Page 31 of On Circus Lane

The others gather their coats and walk out in a flurry of excited chatter, but Ivy leans down to hug me, and I smell the familiar scent of her sweet perfume. “You sure?”

“I’m certain. I’ll be fine.”

“But I brought you on this holiday, and you don’t really know anyone.”

“Well, this will help. I’ll get to know Tom.”

She looks over at Tom, who is walking towards his bedroom and laughing with Freddy. His hair is tousled and shiny, and his arse is plump and tight in his jeans.

“Youpoorboy,” she says, her eyes twinkling.

I heave a martyred sigh. “Someone has to do it. It might as well be me.”

“Do it, or him?”

The thought kindles heat in my stomach, and I wink at her. “Maybe a bit of both if I’m lucky.” She bites her lip, and my eyes narrow. “You okay?”

“Yes.”

“But?”

She comes to sit next to me. “But maybe don’t rush into stuff this time,” she whispers so quickly it takes me a second to parse her words.

I frown. “What are you talking about?”

She grabs a strand of my hair, twisting it gently. “You use sex to distance yourself from men.”

“I use sex to get off,” I say, bewildered. “What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing,” she says quickly. “Absolutely nothing. But as soon as you’ve had a man, you move on. Wouldn’t it be nice to actually get to know one better than just the face they make when they come?”

“But that’s vital information, and honestly, I’d rather know that than their favourite book they read as a child.”

Thoughts flit too quickly over her face for me to read. She leans in and kisses my cheek before standing up and pulling on her coat. “I’m just saying that I’d like to see you actually have a relationship with someone that lasts a bit longer than your condom’s shelf life.”

“Hang on,” I say, alarmed. “That can be for up to five years. I’m notmarryingthe man.”

She stares down at me for a second and then pats my cheek. “I’ve just got a feeling.”

“Well, take your feelings and pack them away,” I say briskly. I shudder. “You’re talking relationships before lunchtime.”

“Alright, I’m off. See you later, Beethoven.”

“Hush,” I say, immediately looking around to see if anyone heard that dreaded name. Thankfully, we’re still alone. I grimace in relief. “Goodbye forever,” I grumble.

She laughs and walks out of the room, the slam of the door announcing her departure.

I have no idea what she’s on about using sex to distance myself. I like sex, and I don’t fancy a relationship or being tied to someone. What the hell is wrong with that?

Just a feeling… Did she mean she has a feeling about Tom? I do feel a spark with him. And I also think we could become friends. I don’t usually fuck friends, but I’m unlikely to see Tom again after this holiday. But perhaps either worry—fucking him or befriending him—is silly, because after we’re home, the source of the worry won’t be in my life. Still, fucking is what I’m most comfortable with, so?—

“Alright?” Tom asks, coming back into the room. He’s carrying his parka and has slung a navy jumper over his T-shirt that looks soft and inviting.

I smile sultrily at him. Then I stretch, making my T-shirt ride up to show off my abs. “Perfectly fine, thank you,” I purr, running a finger down my thigh, drawing attention to the bulge in my jeans.

Feeling strangely breathless, I wait for him to pick up my cues and fall on me. Shagging will be much better than shopping, but he only smiles and puts on his parka, no signs of sexual arousal at all.

“I think we probably need to get you a coat too. That jacket of yours won’t be any good for walking.”

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