We Met in December - Rosie Curtis Page 0,78

heading for the kitchen. I need caffeine, and fast.

Talking of the devil, Jess appears in the kitchen, her nose smattered with new freckles from the August sun outside, her hair in long waves around her shoulders. She’s wearing a pretty flower-patterned sundress and flip-flops, her sunglasses balanced on the top of her head. She’s standing in the doorway as a reminder that no, I wasn’t imagining it. It is her I’ve been dreaming about. God, my subconscious needs to get a grip. A second later, the universe throws an ice-cold bucket of water over my subconscious when Jess steps further into the room followed by a tall, fair-haired, Scandinavian-looking bloke.

‘Oh! Alex.’ She goes a bit pink. ‘This is James.’

I’ve only been gone a couple of weeks. Where the hell has this James sprung from? I realise I’m probably staring and extend a hand. James shakes it – firmly.

‘Hi. I’m Alex, Jess’s housemate.’ Obviously I’m her housemate – that’s why I’m standing here with bare feet and wearing track pants and a T-shirt.

‘Ah, right,’ he says, looking pleased he knows which one I am. ‘You’re the walking one.’

‘That’s right.’ Jess beams.

I make polite small talk for a few more moments, then make my excuses. I pull the door of my bedroom closed and look out of the window at Albany Road and the sea of houses that stretches out as far as I can see. My stomach contracts with something I really don’t want to acknowledge. I can’t be jealous because Jess has met someone. We’re friends, that’s all. Yes, we flirted that first night in December when we met, and yes, we’d become friends as we walked miles together over the city. That’s perfectly normal.

I think for a second about that briefest of touches, lying on the grass, staring up at the sky. I really need to get a grip. It was nothing. There’s a soft thud as Jess’s bedroom door closes, and I grimace. I’m not staying around to find out what will happen next. I grab a towel and head for the shower, determined to stand under needles of burning hot water until I’ve cleared my head, and then for as long as I can. Hopefully that way I can avoid whatever’s going on in the room next door.

CHAPTER THIRTY

Jess

10th September

There’s the first hint of autumn in the air as we walk to Sophie and Rich’s place for dinner. A light breeze blows, and a few yellow-brown leaves eddy and swirl on the street as we get off the tube. They feel at odds with the warm weather. London seems to hold on to summer longer than other places, making more of the season. The shop windows, though, are already full of mannequins wearing long winter coats, wrapped in hats and scarves. It’ll be Hallowe’en next, and then Guy Fawkes Night, and—

‘You look like you’re miles away,’ says James, swinging my hand as we wait at the traffic lights. ‘What are you thinking about?’

‘Oh, Christmas, and stuff like that,’ I say, shaking myself back to reality. ‘Just daydreaming.’

James squeezes my hand and smiles at me. ‘You’re organised.’

I run my thumb over the top of his hand, and hope my face doesn’t give things away. I wasn’t thinking about Christmas. I was thinking about Alex and Alice, and what might be going on with them, and wondering why I was thinking about it when I was holding hands with a perfectly nice man.

Before long, we’re standing outside Sophie’s place waiting for her to open the door. James leans over and drops a kiss on the top of my head. ‘You smell lovely,’ he says, inhaling the scent of expensive Aveda shampoo that I’ve splurged on.

‘Aww, look at you two,’ Sophie says as she opens the door and catches him with his face buried in my hair. ‘You have to admit,’ she says, almost unbelievably smugly, taking our coats, ‘I’m pretty shit-hot at matchmaking.’

James looks at me and rolls his eyes. He’s used to Sophie, working with her in the office every day. And of course, I’ve known her forever. She likes nothing more than being proved right, and James and I seem to make the perfect couple. Everyone says so, after all.

‘Come through, you guys,’ says Rich, drying his hands on a tea towel and slinging it over his shoulder. ‘I’ve just put the starters in. It won’t be long.’

The sitting room is spotlessly tidy, of course. Sophie’s hung a huge spider plant in one corner and it trails

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