Page 14

Then she grabs her handbag and walks out of the pub. I sit there for a moment, watching the door swing shut behind her before turning back to the table. The table who are now all looking at me.

“You’re unbelievable,” Kath says.

“What?”

“You had an opening.”

“I did not.”

“She literally called you a hot nerd.”

“How did you even hear that? I thought you were busy debating the unfair marking of the science round with another table.”

Sam snorts into his lemonade. “Mate, we all heard.”

“Oh, not you as well.”

“All I’m saying,” Sam replies, “is that if someone called me a hot nerd I’d probably explore that. As long as that person was Kath, of course.”

I find myself glancing towards the door again.

I should have gone after her.

Chapter 6

Claire

Iproofread my email for the fifth time. Usually I’m good at compensating for my dyslexia, but in the last three days I managed to send four emails with typos in them. The content of the emails were fine, and no one in management called me out on it, but it still fills me with a horrible sick feeling whenever I spot an error a few days later. This email is to a major client, and I’m feeling particularly paranoid. The fact that it’s 4 p.m. on a Friday after an early start this morning definitely isn’t helping my slowly melting brain.

Or maybe proofreading things five times is just muscle memory. I’ve been at this company since I left university, and whilst no one here has ever said anything about my spelling, it doesn’t stop me from bracing for the correction after every compliment.

If you need to triple-check your own sentences, you must not be smart.

If it takes you three times as long to read as other people, you must not be capable.

If you struggle to take notes in meetings and scramble phone numbers in your mind, then you must be a liability.

“I can look at that email if you want,” Alicia offers from the desk next to mine, snapping me out of my negative thoughts.

I give her a grateful smile, and she wheels her chair around to my desk, frowning at the screen as she goes through my writing line by line. Alicia’s always been supportive of my dyslexia and has never made me feel “less than” for struggling with tasks that come easily to other people.

As she concentrates on the screen, I take a moment to quickly check my phone and stifle a sigh when I see another text from Mum. I don’t open it; I know it will be a suggestion about a guy to date. Not that it should matter. I’m twenty-eight and perfectly capable of making my own decisions.

Unfortunately, I’ve spent most of my life wanting her to tell me I’ve made the right ones.

Tom’s not like any of the guys she pushes me towards. He doesn’t only talk about himself, or see me as some sort of ornament. He listens. He makes me laugh. But none of those features guarantee my mum a daughter who’ll have multiple houses and a retirement property in Florida.

And… he’s my best friend’s brother.

A very good-looking older brother, with warm brown eyes that make you want to sink into them. I try to distract myself by doodling on a Post-it note, but then look down and realise that I’ve drawn his eyes, smile lines and all.

I might have to admit to myself that my childhood crush on Tom isn’t a childhood crush. It’s an adult crush.

“Looks fine,” Alicia reassures me, breaking me away from Tom-related thoughts. “Better than fine actually, it’s a really good email.”

“Thanks. Next coffee’s on me.”

She waves her hand dismissively as she goes back to her desk.