I try to hide the message but it’s too late, my sisters are all over me. Millie is literally on the kitchen island on her hands and knees so she can read the message.
“Call him!” Millie shouts. We all jump. She clears her throat, tucks her hair behind her ears and tries again. “Call him!” she echoes again, slightly quieter this time.
I’m still scrolling through the photos. I didn’t realise I’d laughed so much. Or smiled like that. He’s got me up close and off in the distance, totally unaware he was even taking pictures of me. There’s some of us together on the fishing boat, him staring at me, then me staring at him, then us both locked in each other’s eyes. It was before we’d even kissed. I snigger when I remember the way Roko came between us.
Gemma would’ve loved him.
“You look so good together,” she mutters. Why does she always sound so resentful?
“You do,” Abby says. “Oh my God. I think he fell for you.”
“No. He’s also a photographer. He enjoys this stuff. And he’s really good at it,” I explain. It’s not that. Can’t be that. Won’t be that.
All three of them give me an exasperated look then in unison shout, “CALL HIM!”
“No!” I say, getting out of my seat and escaping their clutches. They don’t follow but their gazes don’t leave me either. “It doesn’t… He doesn’t… It can’t be… It’s too soon… I just.” I rub my forehead.
“Have you run out of excuses yet?” Millie asks, raising an eyebrow.
“Ugh! Fine. You’re the most annoying people on the planet.”
I clutch my chest. My heart is beating way too hard. This is absurd. But maybe this is how it is meant to feel. Maybe it’s meant to be a little scary. Maybe that’s how you know.
I dial the number and hold the phone to my ear.
Thirty-Four
The line is dead.
It doesn’t even dial. Just beeps at me like I’m rude for having the audacity to try. And I have to agree. What was I even thinking?
Why does it feel like I’m on the verge of tears?!I drop my arms to my side and say, “Well. Guess that’s over.”
When I turn to my sisters, I find all three of them on their phones.
“He’s in London,” Millie says without looking up.
“Yep,” Gemma agrees. “Book event. Signing until four p.m. It’s a biography of their tour.”
“Tickets only though,” Abby says, pursing her lips.
Millie nods. “Get dressed. We’re going book shopping, bitches.”
Gemma wrinkles her nose. Abby woops.
“InLondon?” I ask.
“Yes,” Millie replies, giving me a look like I’m being dumb.
“Rightnow?”
“Yes! Get dressed!” she says, shimmying me into my room.
I slide into a flattering dress and pair it with some ankle heeled sandals. Fifteen minutes later, we’re marching up the hill towards Brighton station. Thirty minutes later, we’re on the fast train to London. And an hour later, we’re filing into the busy, sweaty underground enroute to Piccadilly Circus.
I haven’t said much this whole journey, partly because Millie hasn’t shut up, but also because I’ve been trying to work out what I’d say to Gus even if I did see him. We probably won’t. I haven’t got tickets, and I’ve seen first-hand how his security is with him.
“What do I even say?” I ask them when we’re all crammed into the tube, Millie’s face so close I can count her freckles.
