Irresistible by Liz Bankes

Dezzie’s bangin’,” one of them whispers, and then is vigorously elbowed by another who’s seen Jamie watching. The group falls silent.
    “Please continue, Jonty. You were discussing my sister?”
    “No, no, I, um …”
    “Good. Because if I hear that you are, I’ll tell your little friends what I found on your Internet history.”
    The boy turns white, and his friends burst into guffaws as they shepherd him away.
    Jamie glares after him. For a second I get a flash of something he genuinely feels.
    “What does he have on his Internet history?”
    “No idea,” says Jamie. “When do you finish?”
    “Not for hours. I didn’t know when everything would end, so my stepdad’s sort of on standby.”
    “I’ll take you home.”
    I start to think of a reason to say no, but he’s gone. I get this urge to follow him, but at the same time I’m relieved. I can’t really work out what I’m thinking. It’s like glimpsing something real about him makes me want to know more andget closer. But then the idea of getting close to Jamie fills me with instinctive, and probably totally reasonable, panic.
    While there’s no one around, I decide to text Dan. Just so he knows I’m thinking about him while he’s away. I wonder if I should text Cleo as well. She’s just gone to the Seychelles for a family vacation. She said she was dreading two weeks alone with her parents and sister.
    “You’ll find stuff to distract you,” I told her. I can picture her walking around, doing whatever the hell she wants, probably being followed by a bunch of drooling guys like she is here.
    “Yeah,” she said, not really listening. We were in her room—well, the room she’s taken over in Radleigh Castle. Better than staying at her school over the summer, she says. It’s a tower room, so the walls curve around in a circle. It has an arched window with a sill big enough to sit on; a huge wall mirror with an ornate wooden frame, which is apparently hundreds of years old; and a four-poster bed. So, you know, just your average hotel room.
    Cleo tossed a few bikinis into her Louis Vuitton suitcase and then went over to the mirror and sighed. “It’s a hundred four degrees, apparently.”
    “God, how awful …” I shook my head. She caught my eye in the reflection and we shared a smile. She went back to examining herself.
    “Keep an eye on him,” she said, putting on lip gloss and then pressing her lips together. “I don’t care what he does so long as I know.”
    I frowned. “Yeah, sure. I mean, if you really want to know.”
    “Good,” she said, shaking out her hair and turning awayfrom the mirror. “So, your hair.” She marched over to me. “What color are you going for?”
    I’d told her I wanted a change. I’ve never dyed my hair. Well, except for the time Gabi and I decided we wanted blond streaks and ended up looking like birds had pooped on our heads. We don’t speak of that.
    “Red.” Jamie appeared at the door. “You should dye it red.”
    Cleo didn’t look up from her packing.
    “I got you a going-away present, darling,” Jamie said, moving into the room.
    She continued to ignore him, so he threw a small velvet box across the room to me before leaving and closing the door.
    “Do you want …” I held it out to her.
    “What is it?” she said, with a note of exasperation.
    I opened it. It was a necklace. Gold with a pearl drop. “It’s … It’s lovely,” I said.
    She took it from me, looked at it for a second, and then snapped the box shut.
    A few hours later, when the taxi came to pick her up, I saw she was wearing the necklace.
    I head to the bar, where I’ve left my phone out of sight, and wonder what I should text to Cleo. And whether she would mind me getting a lift with Jamie.
    I shake my head. I’m overreacting. It’s getting into his car, not his bed. And I’m not going to, anyway. I get my phone out and there’s a text there from Dan saying he misses me.
    I look up and see Jamie through