Page 9 of One Night With You

She laughs. I’ve just made her laugh! She’s got two tidy rows of pearly white teeth. She cocks her head back to issue a high-pitched giggle before she fiddles with the hair on top of her head, as if catching herself. I can’t help but wonder what it would be like to press my lips up against that neck.

‘I never made it that far actually,’ she admits, but I’m finding it hard to focus: all I want to do is hear that giggle again.

Be.

Where.

You.

Are.

‘I left after Brownies and discovered boys and nail polish and things you can’t – and shouldn’t – get badges in,’ she continues. ‘Do you want four cheese or the spicydiavolo?’

I realise she’s motioning to the boxes.

‘One of each, please,’ I say. She plays mother and Jackson looks at me, nodding approvingly. I find myself patheticallywanting to keep her chatting just to hear her voice, but there’s also a tiny part of me that wants Jackson’s approval that I can. That his confidence in me isn’t misplaced. He seems so sure I can do this. ‘I can’t choose, you see, because I’m a Libra. Balance is everything.’

To my surprise she exclaims: ‘I’m Libra too! And Libra rising!’ I take my food from her gratefully. When she smiles a dimple dips on one side of her mouth. It’s adorably hot. ‘Scorpio moon, though. So don’t cross me. I’ve got a sting in my tail …’ She issues a little laugh with it, and the others titter along too. It sounds like they all know full well what the sting in her tail is capable of, but I don’t know what rising and moon mean. I rack my brains: she’s responding to everything I say, like Jackson promised, and, when she talks, I want to say something else again. Handing off our thoughts to each other that way is wicked, man. I’m loving it.

Wait. Handing our thoughts off to each other? I’m describing conversation, aren’t I? What I’m excited about is basic conversation.

‘Triple Leo here,’ Jackson pronounces, holding up a hand in admission. ‘Star of the show, any which way, and never sorry about it. I’m a king in my castle.’

‘You should be on TV,’ I tell him. ‘I know I’ve only just met you, but I feel like you shouldn’t be managing talent. You couldbethe talent?’

Ruby and Candice guffaw, and Candice makes a vomiting sound at my suggestion. Jackson winks at me.

‘These two are just jealous of my easy charisma,’ he says. ‘And anyway, fame doesn’t interest me. It ruins people. Icouldbe a relationship coach though,’ he adds pointedly. ‘Like that Grant Garby guy.’

Before I can scowl at him to shut up – I don’t want thegirls to know what he’s told me about how to keep my cool! Or that he’s helped in any way! – Candice says: ‘Jesus. It’d be a desperado to accept relationship coaching off you. You’ve never even had a proper relationship. Not in all the time I’ve known you!’

A shadow passes across his face, and I decide not to be mad at him. I wonder how he’s never had a proper relationship, when everything he’s told me to do is actually working. It’s so funny – people can strike you as being one thing, and hide so many other truths about themselves. Not everyone is as they seem. In fact, hardly anyone at all.

‘So what’s brought you to London, then?’ Ruby asks, clearly looking for a way to change the subject, as she lifts a slice of pizza to her perfect mouth. ‘Jackson said you’ve just moved here?’

Everyone is being wonderfully accepting, like Jackson said they would be, and slowly I feel my nerves thaw like I’m stood in front of a cosy home fire.

‘Yeah,’ I say from my spot over on the far sofa, inwardly marvelling thatshehas askedmea question. It’s almost as if she wants a conversation too!

‘New job?’ butts in Candice.

‘Er …’ I stall. I obviously don’t want to get talking about finance. That’d kill the mood.

‘Broken heart?’ she presses.

I furrow my brow. Is it that obvious? Because I don’t want to talk about that either.

‘Candice …’ says Ruby, as if she’s warning her. It saves me from answering. ‘Don’t mind this nosy-pants.’ She turns to me. ‘She thinks she’s being big and clever, but really it’s a deflection tactic so nobody tries to penetrate her hard shell to see if there’s a squishy, mushy heart under there.’

‘Which there is,’ Jackson interjects.

‘Oh, but of course,’ sing-songs Ruby, and then stage-whispering to me adds: ‘You want to see her with the guy who delivers our post. She’s putty in his hands.’

‘I can hear you, you know,’ Candice groans.

‘I know you can.’ Ruby grins. ‘Giving you a taste of your own medicine is what keeps me going in this life. Honestly, Nic – she can barely form a sentence with him. He’s her total opposite. Tall and gangly in the way only a man who walks 50,000 steps a day can be. All tanned from being out in the weather. Always smiling, permanently up for a chat. And if he rings the doorbell with a package Candicehasto be the one to answer, but all she does is say hi and bye! We saw him at the pub once and they managed a whole five-minute conversation about laundry detergent and their favourite scents … It was a car crash. He looks at her all googly-eyed and she shuts him down because … actually Candice, why? I’m going to miss seeing you act a fool over him.’

‘Iwillask him out.’ Candice pouts. ‘Eventually. I’m just biding my time, waiting for my moment.’

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