Page 47 of I Knew You Were Trouble

‘It’s alright. That guy won’t bother you again.’

‘Thank you for saving me.’

‘Anytime. You’re sure I can’t walk you back?’

I get it now, I think. I get why the girls all go to mush around him. He’s more considerate than I’d given him credit for.

‘Thank you, I’m fine. Can you tell Meredith and Duncan that I’ve gone?’

‘I will. Of course.’

I linger for a moment. It’s hard not to be drawn to him.

And then I go.

I’m walking back along the corridor in my dress on shaky legs, having taken my shoes off. The pair of strappy high heels hangs from my fingertips.

I walk slowly, as if in a dream.

I’ve barely had a drop to drink, so I’m not drunk.

But Ifeela little drunk.

I can’t keep my thoughts under control. My heart is doing odd things. When that journalist was in my face, going on about my father, about how he knew him, my reaction was the same as it’s always been when the topic of my dad comes up in conversation: I panicked. The last time I saw him at the Oscars, I told him I didn’t want to see him anymore.

But, tonight, something else happened.

Aidan McArthur swooped in.

Not that I think anyone else noticed.

But I did.

I stop in the centre of the corridor, room doors all around me. I feel like I’m floating. The past few days he’s occupied my thoughts more than I would care to admit.

The sound of a door opening jolts me from my daydream.

Up ahead, a man I recognise comes out into the corridor. He’s the costumes guy for the tour. He’s laughing at something.

Then, somewhat unexpectedly, Ravi Bala follows out of the door, still wearing his suit. He’s removed his shoes. He’s also laughing but he doesn’t seem to see me.

Before I know it, the two men are locked in a passionate embrace.

I freeze.

Their kiss goes on for some moments. I don’t know where to look or whether to say something. They’re so caught up in an intimate moment, but there’s no way they won’t see me, and right now the camera in my butterfly broach is capturing everything.

Ravi lifts his head. He’s looking into the other man’s eyes.

It’s only then that he glances to his left.

He looks at me wide-eyed. For a moment, nobody moves.

‘Hi, Lexi,’ he says, his voice strangled.

‘Hi,’ I manage, with a limp wave.

He wipes one hand over his short hair. ‘Uhhh,’ he begins shakily, looking to his companion. ‘I guess we might need to talk.’

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