Page 65 of After Felix
“What the hell?” I breathe. “You’ve got me mixed up with Max’s real love. He’s in love with his best friend, Ivo. Always has been. Probably always will be.”
He raises his eyebrows, once again carefully scanning my features. He shrugs. “Maybe you’re right.”
“I am,” I say loudly and then moderate my tone. “I’m right, and after all, I should know.”
“Of course you should. I probably just got it all mixed up. I’m such a nitwit.”
“You did get it mixed up. Max must have been talking about Ivo.”
He grins. “Yes, it’s so easy to get the names Felix and Ivo mixed up. They sound soveryfamiliar.” He hefts his bag. “Well, I must be off. This book is far too heavy and probably filled with many extremely boring words, but it’s just the right size.”
“For what?” I say faintly.
“Oh, for propping my window open. The catch has gone on the bloody thing.”
He smiles again, and then he’s gone, his hair swinging behind him, leaving me on a dusty London street with a brain whirling with questions.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
FELIX
I’m still staring after him like an idiot when Max barrels out of the shop and comes to an abrupt stop in front of me.
“You okay?” he asks, his eyes raking my face, looking for who knows what.
I fold my arms over my chest and immediately regret it. His clever eyes sharpen at my undoubtedly defensive action.
“I’m fine,” I say quickly. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Well.” He hesitates, obviously searching for words.
I let him seek for a few seconds and then roll my eyes. “Did you think I was having a moment because I’d met one of your bed partners?” I give a laugh that I’m proud sounds very casual. “If that was the case, Max, I’d probably end up having moments left, right, and centre. In fact, I’d have no time to do anythingapartfrom have a moment.”
“So, you’re not bothered about Xavier?”
“Why would I be?”
“Because I am,” he says starkly.
“What?”
His dark eyes are turbulent. “Every single time I meet one of your men, I’m bothered, to put it mildly.”
“Why on earth would you care?” I whisper. A couple walks past, casting curious eyes over us.
“Do you really not know, Felix? Do you not see?” His eyes are filled with an emotion I can’t identify.
My heart picks up speed, and I go on the defensive. “See what? A dog in the manger? What? You can do it, but I can’t? You haven’t got any say in my life anymore, Max. You haven’t for a very long while. So if I want to shag the whole Arsenal team, I will do.”
“Don’t be so ridiculous,” he mutters, swiping a hand through his hair.
“Oh, no. I do whatIwant. They’ll be so thoroughly shagged they won’t even be able to whisper, ‘New balls please’,” I say triumphantly.
That strange emotion leaves his eyes as he laughs and shakes his head. “That’s tennis, Felix.”
“Oh, how should I know?” I say, waving a dismissive hand. “They use balls, so they’re all the bloody same.”
“Not exactly.”
