Merry Measure - Lily Morton Page 0,14

The two of you can squabble later.”

“Squabble?” my brother says. “Who uses that word, apart from old ladies?”

“Me and the rest of the world who read,” Jack says peacefully. “And not you, obviously.”

“That’s why he’s so shit at Scrabble,” I say, following Jack as faithfully as a cocker spaniel.

We exchange smiles with the doorman as we exit the hotel. The wind hits us, nudging icy fingers over our exposed skin, and already I can feel my cheeks pinken.

Jack buttons up his coat, his long fingers quick and deft. He looks up at the sky. “It’s definitely going to snow.”

“Oh my God, that would be so epic,” I say longingly. “Snow at Christmas in Amsterdam.”

Where another man would take the piss and call me a child, Jack just smiles at me. “Let’s hope we get it before we have to go back.”

I smile back at him, and the moment seems to catch and stretch.

He takes a step back, a frown growing on his face.

“I’m so hungry,” I say quickly, hoping to cover the awkwardness.

A bicycle bell rings from somewhere close, and the next second Jack tugs me forward, and I hit him with a thud. “Ouch,” I say.

“Sorry,” he says, pulling back slightly. “You were in the path of those bikes.”

I raise my hand to the departing bicyclists, calling out an apology. The two women smile calmly and cycle on.

“Thanks,” I say to Jack. My voice has gone breathless. He’s so near, and I can feel the warmth of his big body.

“That’s alright,” he says, still looking down at me. His hands remain on my shoulders; the fingers kneading gently into the muscles. “You have to be …” He trails off for a second, his eyes dark and concentrated.

“You have to be what?” I prompt after a few seconds.

He jerks, abruptly dropping his hands. “You have to be careful,” he says briskly. “The bikes are everywhere.”

“You two coming or just standing outside the hotel for a few hours?”

We both start and turn to find Tom watching us curiously. The rest of the group is already at the street corner.

“Of course,” I say quickly. “Jack just saved me from being flattened by a bike.”

“It was an easy mistake to make,” Jack says. “Everyone does it their first time in Amsterdam.”

“Yes, well, not everyone will still be doing it in three days,” my brother says.

“You’re not wrong,” I admit. “I’m not very spatially aware at the best of times.”

My brother laughs as he turns to Jack. “It’s true. I’ll never forget the time we had a picnic at the zoo on my birthday. Arlo wanted my mum because he’d wet his pants and he ran straight across the picnic blanket and through the fucking cake.”

“I was two,” I say, trying to incinerate my brother with my eyes. Unfortunately, it doesn’t work. “You talk about it like it was last week. I haven’t wet my pants in many years.”

Jack pats my shoulder soothingly. “Food,” he says in the diplomatic voice that he’s employed for years to break up arguments.

Tom grins at both of us and races off to join the others. They’re taking pictures of a barge covered in fairy lights.

“If it’s any consolation to you,” Jack tells me, “Tom had to shit in a carrier bag on site last week because the portaloo was broken.”

I grin up at him. “Why, yes. That does make me feel better. Thank you so much,” I say with a great deal of malicious gratitude in my voice.

He laughs, and we move off down the little cobbled street. The group moves two abreast, keeping to the narrow pavement. Jack and I bring up the rear walking close together, and I wonder if we look like a couple to strangers passing by. I have a sudden yearning for that to be true and the force of it surprises me.

I’m largely over my crush on him. I’ve dated other men and thought my enduring awareness of Jack to be harmless, a remnant from my teen years when every emotion felt powerful. So it’s alarming how much I want to pull him to a stop and kiss him. Or just walk with his arm around me.

I try to ignore the heat of his body and the way his arm brushes against mine. I’m not successful.

Four

Jack

When I open my eyes blearily, I don’t know where I am. Then I move, the expensive sheets shifting against my body, and the hotel room comes into focus. The dawn light streams through the partially open