“Um…”Really a very bad and terrible idea.Awful.
But I’m so flustered by that filthy scene in my mind I can hardly talk. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess… w-we could…”
“Perfect.” He grabs my hand, and before I can think up an excuse, he’s pulled me to my feet, and I have to run to not fall after him as he sprints down Primrose Hill.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
GOOD AUGUST
KICKSTART MY HEART
This probably isn’t smart, but he’s the super genius, not me. I take no responsibility for bad ideas. I just hope he won’t be too mad.
I’ve barely been able to think straight all day, ever since he rolled his sleeves like that. His nice wrists and his nice shirt and those slutty glasses, every time he pushed them up with his instructive index finger.
I’ve got it so bad for this guy.
He’s still holding my hand, letting me lead him along, and it feels as if I’ve grabbed hold of a live defibrillator. Or, what I imagine that would feel like. The lyrics of ‘Kickstart My Heart’ by Mötley Crüe drift in and out of my brain as my feet pound the Camden pavement, moving August along as quickly as I can.
I know there’s something going on between us. You don’t call a man beautiful beneath the stars while discussing lonely space probes and not expect it to mean something.
Sure, it’s possible I’ve got my wires crossed, but there’s only one way to find out: a whole lot of alcohol.
Yes, I’m broke. But I happen to know a place where we’re on the door, so that means free drinks.
Of course the very moment we step into the glow of the venue’s sign, his hand slips from mine and he stops dead in his tracks. “Koko?”
Yeah, okay, maybe he doesn’t want to see my ex. Neither do I, but needs must. “Come on. It’ll be fun.”
“No. Look, I think I’ll?—”
“No, no, you can’t go home.” I sweep his hand back up. He lets me, which is a great sign as far as I’m concerned. “We’re on the door. We’ll just slip in, find a quiet corner, and hang out. Just us. He’ll never even know we’re here.”
Hearing the words on my lips slaps a reminder into me that I’m talking like this is a done deal, like the reason he doesn’t want to see Jon is because of whatever I hope is going on between us, and not just because Jon was a total wanker this morning.
But then a new worry clouds my mind, and I have to ask, “You do like Bon Jovi, don’t you?”
“Iamhuman,” he retorts, with a reassuring suggestion of offence taken.
“Great! Then we go inside, listen to a few songs, have some drinks on them. That’s all. Come on. Please?” I feel the breath of his sigh on my cheek, and if I had it in me, I’d step right up and kiss his lips to seal the deal. But I can’t do anything except tug at his hand, and try to hide how big my grin is when he stumbles, one, two, three steps after me.
There isn’t much of a line, so it’s only seconds before we step into the dark and heat of the venue. We check our coats, then it’s time for drinks. I’m about to ask what he wants when, “August?” a voice shouts.
My heart sinks.
“August!” shouts another.
I’m flung backward with the momentum of Amber smacking into me for a huge hug. As quickly as I realise she’s already undermy arm, August’s shoulder hits mine from a matching shock, Shashi having thrown her head against his chest in the same movement.
He raises his hands as if he’s found a leech attached to himself, and the coldness makes Shashi’s head snap up. She stares at him, looks across at Amber, follows the line of Amber’s linked arms up my body and to my face, then, “What the fuck?”
Amber slides away as quickly as Shashi does, and the two of them stand there gawping at us.
“It’s me,” I say. “I’m your August.”
Both take a small step towards me, eyes on August like he’s an alien. Which I guess he kind of is.
“This is Amber and Shashi,” I attempt, trying to catch his eye, but he’s busy scrutinising Shashi, who’s busy scrutinising him with her deep brown, deeply lined, heavily mascaraed eyes. “This is my cousin.”
