four other guys make a collective noise of disappointment as my royal flush obviously beats whatever they’re holding. I play to win. Always.
I pull a bottle from the fridge and crack the top off it, throwing half back in one easy movement.
Olivia’s in class with me tomorrow.
I wonder what she’ll be wearing?
‘I’VE GOT CLASS until four,’ I murmur into my phone, my eyes glued to the door, waiting for the moment Connor will arrive so I can go back to pretending I don’t notice him.
‘Darling—’ my mum uses her most persuasive voice ‘—it’s a late lunch. Things will just be starting by the time you get there.’
Frustration zips through my belly. ‘I doubt that.’
‘You can’t just not show up.’
I would laugh except this isn’t remotely amusing. ‘I never agreed to go.’
She’s quiet and I know her lips are compressed. ‘Pietro’s counting on you.’
And there it is. The reason my mum has been nagging me about going to my cousin’s girlfriend’s birthday lunch for the past two weeks.
Because my saintly ex-boyfriend will be there—the man my parents are determined for me to take back. To forgive the fact we made no sense together, the fact we had nothing in common, the fact sex was perfunctory and our conversation, for the most part, dull.
Don’t get me wrong—I loved Pietro. But I realised, over time, that it was the kind of love one feels for a friend or, ick, a brother. Not a lover.
I sigh, because saying ‘no’ to my mother isn’t easy. Especially when I know her meddling comes with the best of intentions.
‘Where is it?’ I bite down on my lip right as the door opens and Connor steps in, his stride strong and confident. I stare at him for a couple of seconds and marshal my expression into a look of nonchalant unconcern. It’s a waste of energy. He doesn’t even look my way.
‘Alta Pasta, just off St Christopher’s Place. Do you know it?’
She sounds relieved; she’s taken my acquiescence as a given.
I’ve never argued with my mum and dad, but I can’t stand the way they’re trying to urge me into a sensible relationship, just because they’ll feel better knowing I’ve settled down.
It makes me want to do the opposite.
Unconsciously, my eyes land on Connor and a frown crosses my face.
I want to do completely the opposite. I want to find someone manifestly unsuitable. Completely wrong. And I want to have some fun. Not a relationship, nothing like what Pietro and I shared.
And, in that moment, which I’m not proud of, I want to be with someone who would infuriate my parents...
‘I’ll see if I can make it.’
‘You’re a good girl, Olivia.’
It’s just an expression, something she says often, but it raises my hackles to the point of bursting. A good girl? I am a good girl. I always have been. Even when my friend Clara and I went travelling, I was the one taking care of her, booking our hostels, putting glasses of water beside her bed and condoms in her purse.
Apparently I don’t know how to be anything other than a good, sensible girl.
‘Are we interrupting your social life, Miss Amorelli?’
Colour blooms in my face. I feel it spread and curse my propensity to flush when I’m embarrassed.
Everyone is looking at me. I glare at Connor and then pointedly lift my eyes to the clock above his head. There’s still a minute to go until the lecture technically starts.
Nonetheless, my inner Goody-Two-Shoes, who really isn’t very ‘inner’ at all, stands to attention.
‘Mum? I have to go.’
I disconnect the call and slide my phone to the desk.
Heat spreads from my face to my neck as Connor continues to stare at me. For barely a millisecond, his eyes lower, glancing somewhere in the region of my cleavage, and then he turns away, moving to the whiteboard.
He begins to speak, addressing the whole class, and I flick my notebook open and take the lid off my pen, but I’m only pretending to listen. I write out a few things, word for word, as he says them, but they’re random and unimportant. I can’t focus. My brain is fogged.
I can honestly say I’ve never looked at a guy and felt myself spontaneously combust in a cloud of sexual heat.
This, with Connor, is completely different.
It scares the hell out of me, if I’m honest, only because he’s as completely off-limits to me as if he were my best friend’s fiancé.
He turns around and smiles. Everyone laughs.
I don’t.
I stare at him and his eyes zip to mine. The world, the earth, the universe—everything freezes. We are powerless to fight it, this moment. We simply stare at one another and silence falls; we are encumbered by a desire that is impossible to acknowledge. Impossible to resist.
‘Okay.’ He seems to rally himself with more ease than I could muster for a million quid. ‘Group assignments are due at the end of today. Anyone not able to complete theirs?’ He drags his eyes away—at least I hope he’s having to drag them away. I can’t. I continue to stare at him. He’s wearing a navy blue suit, a pale blue shirt and brown shoes. No tie, and the shirt’s open at the neck. He has a nice neck. Thick and strong. I imagine running my tongue along it and then look at the clock, jerking my eyes away forcibly.
The class is almost over.
I’m almost done.
‘That’s it. Read the two cases and summarise judgements before Thursday.’
There’s a commotion as everyone stands but Connor holds his hands up, silencing us once more. ‘And the Law School Ball on Friday night is not optional. Dean Walters has asked me to remind you to come, dress up and be on your best behaviour.’ He pulls a face that is half mocking, full hot. ‘But seriously, you guys, this is an incredible opportunity to meet real-world professionals and socialise with representatives of some of the top-tier firms in the country. So be prepared to make a good impression and it might lead to an interview for those of you planning to undertake your training contracts.’
I try to imagine Connor Hughes ever going to one of these balls with the intention of sucking up, and fail. Even as a student, I bet he was as arrogant as they came. You don’t learn that kind of attitude; it’s innate.
A hand somewhere to
