Page 59 of The Key to My Heart

Tom studies my face, then blows a breath out the corner of his mouth. ‘Fuckin’ hell, Natalie.’

‘What?’

‘What do you meanwhat?’ Tom says, laughing. ‘Honestly, it’s like wringing a dry towel with you sometimes. Like … talking to some sort of hard-as-nails biker who won’t rat on their gang.’

‘Well, what do you want? His bloody fact file?’

‘Sure.’ Tom folds his arms, the skin taut and muscly against his middle. ‘Sounds good. Let’s have it.’

‘Fine. His name is Joe, surname, Jacobs, aged twenty-seven, he was born in Dorset but currently lives in Kentish Town—’

‘Twenty-seven,’ he says as if it’s the first time he’s heard. ‘You know what they say.Young, dumb—’

‘Don’t you dare finish that sentence.’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ Tom grins – straight teeth, that cleft in his chin.

My cheeks ache, sitting here. He makes me laugh. Tom always, always makes me laugh.

‘Okay, so, what else?’

‘Nothing much,’ I say. ‘We went to a food festival, went shopping—’

‘And is he – well, you know.’ Tom winks at me and puts on a ludicrously high-pitched voice. ‘Dishy?’

I laugh. ‘Nobody says dishy anymore.’

‘Mum says dishy.’

‘Yourmumsays a lot of things.’

Tom uncrosses his arms and sits back. He smiles. A ‘Well?’ smile. Because he knows. He always seems to know, annoyingly. And before I can activate my poker face, I melt into laughter. I can’t help it. My face floods with heat, like my head’s in the oven. I cover my face with my hands.

‘Oh, shit, don’t eventell me.’ Tom laughs. ‘Oh.Oh, you fancy him.’

‘No.’

‘You fucking do.Natalie fancies someone.’

I giggle madly behind my hands and, on the other side of them, he laughs, a big burst.

‘Holy shit,’ he says, ‘you fuckin’ do. I knew it. What did I say? Didn’t I say you would – Hey, sir, mister, please, you see here, my friend Natalie Fincher,’ andwhen I drop my hands from my face, he is actually gesticulating to someone walking past. A stranger.An actual stranger.‘She fancies someone,’ Tom carries on, and thankfully, the stranger smiles, amused, but keeps walking. ‘An actual man,’ Tom adds. ‘An actual person. She hasn’t fancied anyone for ages.’

‘Tom.Seriously. Shut the—’

‘She hasn’t fancied a soul,’ he calls out as a woman a few paces away looks over her shoulder, laughing. ‘Nope. Not a soul. Hates all of us. Vince Vaughn. Who’s the other one?’ Then he talks, as if to a crowd by the table, but only actually to me. ‘Oh, and sausages. Sausages, too. Sausages really do get her down. Too rubbery. Toophallic.’

‘You’re a knob.’

He looks over at me and grins. ‘This is a momentous day, Foxes.’

‘No, it isn’t.’

‘What is?’ Jason arrives at the table with Tom’s coffee, an intrigued eyebrow raised.

‘She fancies someone.’

‘Who does? Natalie?’

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