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“Claire,” Tom says, his voice low.

My pulse stutters.

“What if I did?” My voice is breathier than I intended. “Want to hear the history lines, that is.”

And now his half-smile turns to a full one.

I don’t know who moves first, maybe both of us, but suddenly his mouth is on mine. It’s not rushed. It’s not messy. His hands thread through my hair and he tilts my head up towards him. The kiss deepens and I forget everything else. The way my shoe is digging into the heel of my foot, or the fact that the evening’s cooler than I expected it to be for this time of year. Instead, all I can think about is Tom’s hand weaving into my hair. The feel of the worn fabric of his jacket against my hands. The way his other arm is now sliding down my back.

Then, I’m surrounded, as he pushes me back towards the door. And now all I can think is how amazing it feels. Just to be encompassed by Tom. He tugs at my hair, and I open my mouth on a moan.

Woah. Ok. That doesn’t usually happen.

I lean into the kiss, reaching my hands around his back and draw him towards me. I want him as close as possible. I want this kiss to last forever. It almost feels like it does before he eventually breaks away. We’re both panting and he moves to trail kisses across my cheek and to my ear. I can feel his eyelashes brush against my skin, and I shiver.

“Can I see you tomorrow?” he murmurs, a little breathless.

I give him a weak nod and then sag back against the door.

“Goodnight, Buttercup.” He has a smile on his face as he turns and walks away.

My heart is still racing as he reaches the end of the street. But in the two minutes it takes me to open the door and kick off my shoes I’m already starting to spiral. You just kissed Kath’s brother, I scold myself. Kath, remember her? Your best friend.

Just because I like him and find spending time with him easy doesn’t mean that I should do this. Reaching for my phone, I send Sophia a Code Red message.

Me: SOS

Me: True SOS. Absolute Code Red over here.

Me: Please come tomorrow morning.

Chapter 7

Tom

Was buying her a coffee overkill?

Maybe.

Probably.

But I’ve already committed, and it would feel weird to show up empty-handed after last night. Not that last night was a date, but I wish it had been. I had a better time casually chatting to Claire at a party full of people than I have on my last five dates with other women. Scratch that, I haven’t had fun like this in the last five years. It’s why the moment she started flirting with me I went for it, pushing my luck to see if she would respond.

I glance down at my phone. Still no text from Claire, but she said I could come by. Or at least, she’d nodded when I said it last night. It was a faint nod, but I’m over seventy-five percent confident it still counts. In A level exams seventy-five percent is at least an A. That’s a good grade.

And that kiss… it was amazing. Properly amazing. Definitely A star level. I’ve replayed it in my mind a lot since it happened, and I’m still feeling weirdly energised by it despite my lack of sleep after the late night and subsequent early morning.

I press the doorbell for her flat. But when the door opens, it’s not Claire standing there—it’s someone else. A girl with light brown hair, blue eyes, and the kind of expression that says who the hell are you and why are you holding two coffees?

“Have you got the right place?” She eyes me and the cups like I might be a caffeine-based threat. I look down the street again. No, this is definitely the right one. I mean after last night there was no way I’d forget what the door looked like. It’s seared in my mind, along with the way it framed Claire.

“I think so,” I hedge, then look at her more closely. “Sophia?”

I haven’t seen Claire’s younger sister in years. Claire talks about her constantly—but standing here as an adult she looks completely different. Familiar in that strange way someone is when your brain knows you’ve met them, but your eyes don’t quite believe it.

“Yep, that’s me.” Her stance softens, and she opens the door wider. “Claire’s just out doing a yoga class. Apparently, downward dog helps with emotional repression. But I hate yoga so I stayed here instead. Hi, Tom.”

I startle. “You know my name?”