No one is looking. Two journalists in the second row are already arguing about who had their hand up first. Someone else is checking recordings. Laptops open. Phones ready.
No one saw.
Good.
Right.
Game on.
I straighten slightly in my chair.
You wanted me in the front row.
Now you have to deal with the consequences.
I try flicking my hair casually.
Unfortunately I do not really have flickable hair. It sort of… moves a bit and then settles back exactly where it was.
Also he is currently answering a question and does not see it.
Typical.
I wait.
Another question starts. I try again, a slightly bigger movement this time, and end up elbowing the person next to me.
I mumble an apology and look up at Jack.
Still nothing.
This is harder than it looks in films.
Jack licks his lips while listening to a question and I decide this is clearly some sort of unspoken flirtation code.
I attempt to copy it.
This turns out to be a mistake.
I do it far too deliberately and immediately become aware the journalist next to me is looking concerned.
“Do you want some water?” he whispers. “The air’s really dry in here.”
“I’m fine,” I whisper back, mortified.
I write something in my notebook purely so I have something to look at.
Right.
New plan.
I wait until he is answering another question, then casually take off my glasses. Slow. Thoughtful. Like I have seen women in films do.
I hold one arm of them lightly between my lips.
This is probably sophisticated.
This is probably mysterious.
