Page 44 of Be More Octopus

'I'm fine, honestly.'

'Are you cold?'

'A bit.' She'd put on jeans and a long-sleeved shirt to allow for the cooler evening, but the cinema's air conditioning was making the interior feel more like an icy winter's day.

'Here. Have my jumper.'

'But you'll be cold then.'

'No, I'll manage.' He gently helped her put it on.

'Thank you.'

'You look warmer already.'

'I am, thanks.' The glowing feeling from being enveloped in soft Jack-smelling wool had helped considerably.

Jack gave her another meaningful look just as the waiter arrived with their food. Lady Luck seemed determined to stop anything more from happening today.

Perhaps you ought to take the hint. No, Em wasn't giving up on Jack that easily.

Em stifled a sob. She didn't want Jack to see her getting emotional about the story on screen.

'Are you ok?' Jack whispered, putting a reassuring arm around her.

'It's just sad, that's all,' she whispered back. She took the opportunity to nestle into his shoulder to see how he reacted. He pulled her in closer. A good sign. He is a hugger, so don't read too much into it. In the darkness of the cinema, she closed her eyes, imagining it was just the two of them. She put her hand on his chest. She could feel his heart beating fast.

She opened her eyes again. Mary and Shelley were getting it on in the bedroom. She kept her eyes firmly on the screen. Jack seemed tense too. The camera panned away before things got steamy.

The conversation about Shelley's wife felt more awkward than she expected. And as the film progressed, the story became anything but romantic. Perhaps the Incredibles would have been a better choice after all.

As the credits rolled, Jack sat up. 'What did you think?'

'I enjoyed it. Thank you for suggesting it. How about you?'

‘It certainly puts Frankenstein in context.'

'Do you want your jumper back?'

'No, It looks better on you,' he smiled.

He can take it off you when you get back to the flat. Her inner voice was starting to sound like Lucy. But Em wasn't sure she wanted it to go that far now. Seeing how the men in their lives treated Mary and her sister was enough to make retreating to a nunnery sound attractive. But she was being ridiculous - Jack wasn't a selfish Regency poet.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

It was 9 pm when they left the cinema, but the road outside was still too busy to cross. Eventually, the traffic lights changed, and everything ground to a halt. Jack grabbed Em's hand and led her between the stationary vehicles to the opposite pavement. He kept her hand in his as they turned into the side street. It felt comforting.

Forget about the 19th century. This is 2018, and sleeping with Jack won't get you cast out of society. That would be Lucy's opinion. And her inner voice was right. Why not have some fun? But the effects of the mojito had worn off. She could do with some liquid courage to go through with it.

'Do you fancy a bottle of wine? We could see what that supermarket has?' Em nodded towards the brightly lit shop over the road.

Jack liked the idea. Five minutes later, they walked out of the shop, Jack carrying a bag containing some croissants for breakfast and a bottle of chilled Pinot Grigio. He suddenly stopped as they got to the kerb.

'Everything ok?' Em asked.

He bent down to whisper in her ear. 'That man over there. I'm sure he was in the cinema. Same row as us at the end by the exit. We had to walk past him to get out.'

Em casually glanced across the street. A man was standing with his back against some railings. He had his head down, looking at his phone. Nothing unusual there. 'Could be. Perhaps he's waiting for a lift?'