Page 67 of London Inked Boys: The Complete Trilogy
I put the phone to my ear and wait while it rings. She might not even answer, could even be screening my calls. I don’t think I misread the tension between us earlier today, but it isn’t as though she jumped at the chance of giving me her number. All my muscles are taut, my biceps bunched and my shoulders hunched, and I force myself to relax.
“Rocco?”
So lost in thought, I almost miss her answer.
“Sophia. Yeah, hi, it’s me. I hope you don’t mind me calling.”
“No, of course not. I’ve kind of been wondering if you would.”
“You have?”
“Yeah, of course. I still can’t believe we ran into each other today, after all these years.”
Her voice is so sweet. Now I can’t see her, it’s easy to believe we’ve been transported back in time, and we’re both seventeen again.
“I know. Crazy, right.” I clear my throat. “So, how’s the tattoo?”
“It’s fine at the moment. Only a little sore.”
“It’ll be when it starts to heal that it’ll get itchy and drive you crazy.”
“I’m sure I can survive a little itching,” she says, and I can hear the smile in her voice.
I just need to dive in and ask her. “I wondered if you wanted to grab a drink some time, you know, catch up?”
“Umm…”
There she goes again, hesitating, and I don’t know why.
“It’s fine if you don’t want to,” I rush on. “I just thought it might be fun.”
“You know what? You’re right, it would be fun. Where do you want to meet?”
“Dinner, tomorrow,” I suggest. “I’ll take you out. My treat.”
“That sounds lovely. Where?”
I want to take her out to an experience. One of those pop-up restaurants in people’s homes. It’s supposed to be incredible food, and I know someone who’s friends with them and will hopefully be able to book us a table at such short notice.
“I’ll text you the address,” I say. “Seven p.m. okay?”
“Sure, I can do seven.”
I press the phone closer to my ear, a wide smile plastered across my face. “Great. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
6
SOPHIA
“I’m going out tonight, Mum,” I call as my mother bangs around the kitchen.
The banging stops. “You are? Where?”
“Into the city. I have a date.”
“A date? With who?”
“Well, you’re never going to believe it, but with Richard Walters from when we were growing up.”
