Page 13 of The Spark

‘Well, exactly. It changed me.’

‘Just like that?’

He nods softly. ‘It was a wake-up call.’

Something about this doesn’t feel quite as straightforward as he makes it sound, but I decide not to push it. ‘So, what do you do for fun these days?’

‘I thought we’d agreed not to ask that question.’

‘Pleasure, then. What do you like to do for pleasure?’

Our gazes grip tight for just a moment. ‘That’s better.’

‘Go on.’

He groans.

‘Okay, I’ll make it easier. Let’s see... Secret skill?’

‘I’m actually a demon at poker.’

I swallow. ‘For money?’

‘Sometimes.’

‘Standard lads’ night out?’

‘Pub, pool, kebab.’

‘Odeon or . . . arthouse?’

‘Arthouse.’

‘Cook, or order in?’

‘I cook, actually. Promise I’m not just saying that.’

My heart rate picks up. I have overheard a version of this conversation before, many years ago. And all the answers are the same.

‘Beach, or city?’

‘God, beach.’

‘Cats, or dogs?’

‘Does anyone ever say cats?’

‘Idea of a great date?’

His gaze fuses with mine. ‘Let’s see. Maybe just... one of those long nights drinking and talking crap and forgetting what the time is.’

‘Best hangover cure?’

He starts to speak, then changes his mind. ‘Ah, I can’t tell you that.’

‘Go on.’ The way Jamie and I always solved hangovers was with sex and coffee, lots of both.

He hesitates, then, ‘Strong coffee and... you know. Good company.’

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