Page 11 of On Circus Lane

“Me? I didn’t do anything. I’ve never met him before.”

“I think you could still manage to wind someone up, even then.”

We both go quiet as Bee grabs the redhead and kisses him passionately. I’m aware of a funny feeling in my chest, but I can’t figure out what it is. “Is that his boyfriend?”

“I don’t think he’s got one. I’m sure Ivy said that last night. Yes. I remember I asked if he’d got a boyfriend, and she laughed.”

“Why?”

“Determinedly single, apparently.”

I shoot him a look.If only you were the same. I’m pretty sure I should be knighted for keeping those words to myself.

I brighten as I listen to Bee’s conversation. He’s trying and failing to guess the name of the bloke who’d exited the building with him. Definitely an awkward, morning-after exchange.

“Oh, is Ted Jared Alfred not coming with us?” I call, after the redhead drifts off with a dreamy smile. I can’t resist winding up Bee a little. His glare ignites a spark in my chest—like a reward for capturing his attention.

I watch in the driver’s mirror as Ivy and Bee talk in whispers at the back of the car. I angle the mirror for a better look. Even side-on and half-blocked by the boot, he’s stunning. The pair are hissing at each other now, although neither looks particularly bothered by the fact. Then they both smile, and Ivy leaves him to climb into the car.

I smile at her. “Everything okay?”

“Oh, fine. I was just helping Bee pack.” She pauses, obviously realising she’s just dropped her friend in it. “I mean, just pack the last few necessities.”

The door opens, and Bee climbs in, bringing the scent of vanilla with him.

“Sorry I’m late,” he mutters.

“Don’t bother thinking of an excuse. I already told them,” Ivy says.

He groans.

“Don’t worry about it,” I say with a wink. “We’ve all been there.”

“Well, you have,” Jack says. “Remember Prague?”

“How lovely that you’ve torn yourself away from your phone to mentionthat,” I say.

Jack chuckles, and I turn to grin at Ivy. I extend the grin to Bee, but he just stares at me.

“Hey,” I say. “Nice to meet you.”

“And you,” he says almost reluctantly. He meets my gaze, and I’m struck by how pretty the blue is. A brilliant shade like you’d find on a peacock feather.

“What happened in Prague?” Ivy asks.

I force my eyes from Bee’s and answer. “We stayed at my parents’ house the night before we went to Prague last year. We were being picked up at five in the morning, but I had a skinful the night before. Anyway, I woke up with the minibus outside and panicked. I ran naked into Jack’s room shouting at him to get ready but took a wrong turn and ended up in the spare bedroom where a lady was staying who my dad was writing songs for.”

Ivy laughs. “Really?”

I grin at her. “She said it was the nicest alarm call she’d ever had.”

Jack groans. “I’m glad I was spared.”

“Does your dad write a lot of songs for ladies, then?” Bee’s question sounds reluctantly interested.

“He’s a songwriter,” Jack explains. “He mostly writes for rock bands, though.”

“Yeah, if someone is screaming so loud you can’t hear the lyrics in a song, then it’s odds on my dad wrote it.”

---