Page 197 of The Black Trilogy

“Patience is something else you need to learn. Now, are you going to answer my question?”

“I don’t know. I can’t remember the last time I actually had a choice over how to spend an afternoon.”

“Believe it or not, I don’t often have free time either. We should get to know each other.”

“Okay, so let’s go out. What do you do for fun?”

He gave me a blank look.

“You know, fun?” I prompted. “Relaxing? Having a good time?”

“Fun isn’t a big part of my life. What do you do?”

He had me there. “Uh, practice chemistry questions?”

We locked gazes for a second then burst out laughing. We were as bad as each other.

“Why don’t we just go out and see where we end up?” I suggested.

“I don’t normally do that either.”

“You want me to change my life for you. I could do with a bit of give and take.”

“Fair enough. Let’s get our jackets.”

We spent the afternoon doing stupid tourist stuff. I’d lived in London my whole life, but I’d never visited the Natural History Museum or been for a ride on a river boat. But then again, I’d never had anyone to do those things with.

And it was indeed fun.

Even sober, I found Black surprisingly easy to chat with. Although he clearly didn’t like discussing his upbringing, as I didn’t enjoy rehashing mine, we found enough to talk about that we barely shut up all afternoon.

As darkness fell, we ate dinner in a small Japanese restaurant in Belgravia, which turned out to be where his house was. I tried sushi for the first time, and strangely I liked it, despite the raw fish. Black taught me how to use chopsticks, although I nearly rammed one through his hand when he kept laughing at my initial efforts.

“Are you staying tonight?” he asked as we walked out into the freezing night. “I can drop you back early tomorrow.”

“Why not?”

After all, I knew JJ’s wouldn’t be my home for much longer. I’d decided to go to America with Black. Crazy, maybe, seeing as I’d only known him for one weekend, but it felt like we’d been in each other’s lives a lot longer. Despite coming from worlds that were as alike as a Lamborghini and a Lada, we clicked.

I didn’t want to imagine the rest of my life without him in it.

Couldn’t imagine it.

Which was why five days later on my genuine sixteenth birthday, I sat nervously clutching my new passport. The passport that proclaimed me to be Amanda Emerson, born on May fifteenth, two years and seven months earlier than I came into the world. It sure beat the dodgy driver’s licence I’d bought in the pub around the corner from JJ’s last year.

Beside me, Black thanked the flight attendant for the two glasses of bubbly she’d just handed him.

He passed one to me. “Happy eighteenth and a bit, Emmy.”

I clinked my glass against his. “You should have bought the bottle.”

“Don’t push your luck.”

I drained every drop then leaned back in my seat for the ride.

Dulles International, here we come.

CHAPTER 22

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