Meet Me at the Lighthouse: This summer’s best laugh-out-loud romantic comedy. Mary Baker Jayne

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       Chapter 3

      “Another drink?” I asked, voice slurring under the influence of too many birthday Sauvignons.

      “Not sure I haven’t had enough really.” Ross blinked unfocused eyes into the dregs of his red wine. “But go on, twist my arm. Is it my round?”

      “Yeah. No. Dunno. Lost track a bit, to be honest.”

      “Ok, let’s say it is, since you’re the birthday girl.” He smiled at the barmaid and she came scurrying over with that simper good-looking guitar players seem to be able to summon at will. “Same again please, Gabbie.”

      “So. You always finish your set with Angels?” I asked when our glasses had been refilled.

      “Not always. If it’s a weekend I usually do something slow and cheesy though, bit of a crowd-pleaser.”

      “Brings back memories, yeah?”

      He frowned. “Er, yeah. I mean, does it?”

      I nudged him. “Ah, come on. You know what I’m on about.”

      “I don’t, you know. You’re not confusing me with Robbie Williams, are you?”

      “Look, d’you remember kissing me that time or what?” I blurted out.

      Ross snorted. “You what? When?”

      “Really? You don’t remember snogging to Angels at the Year 9 disco? And that was my first ever go at it as well.” I stifled a giggle that was at least half drunken hiccup and punched him on the arm. “Have to say, pretty rude. You’re s’posed to tell me I was unforgettably awesome and I triggered the sexual awakening that made you the smoking-hot studcrumpet you are today.”

      “Right. Might have to Google studcrumpet before I’ll commit to that.”

      He was looking sideways at me across the rim of his glass. I noticed his face change suddenly, losing the droopy drunken grin and going all keen and intense. His eyes flickered over my features and down my body.

      “Hey, Bobbie Hannigan from school,” he said softly. “You’re sexy, you know.” He put his wine down and twisted his stool to face me. “Fancy giving me a memory jog on this snog? Sure it’ll all come flooding back once we get going.”

      I let my gaze run over the square contour of his jaw, the dusting of stubble; full, sculpted lips a little stained by the wine. God, he was gorgeous. Who had I thought I was kidding when I’d told myself he wasn’t my type?

      Anyway, what the hell. Nothing we hadn’t done before.

      “Yeah, go on,” I said. “It is my birthday.”

      I let my eyes fall closed and tilted my face to his, waiting for the kiss. What would it be like? Different than last time, obviously; he was 28, he must have learnt how Frenching worked by now. Soft? Passionate? Bit of both?

      After a while I opened my eyes again. He was still scanning my face, his gaze lingering on my lips.

      “Look, d’you want this snog or what?” I asked, folding my arms.

      He grinned. “Yep. But I think you’re going to have to give it me another time. You’re pretty sloshed, aren’t you?”

      “So what? So are you.”

      “Not as much as you, you’ve been drinking longer.” He leaned one elbow on the bar and propped his chin on his fist to look at me. “Sorry, love, nice boys don’t do that sort of thing.”

      I scoffed. “Nice boy my arse.”

      He lifted an eyebrow. “How very dare you, madam.”

      “Come on. Can you deny you once got me hyped up on sugary pop and Space Raiders then took advantage by copping a feel?”

      “Ha! Yeah, and I was having a grand old time till that bastard Madison grope-blocked me. That was always going to be the highlight of any 14-year-old lad’s night, to be fair.”

      “I knew it!” I jabbed an accusing finger in his direction. “You do remember.”

      “Well. Course I do. Never forget your first kiss and go on a girl’s boobs, do you?”

      “Ooooh. I knew you were having me on. So it was your first too, was it?”

      “Yeah.” СКАЧАТЬ