Eventually he sighs and says, ‘Fine.’ He sounds exhausted as he removes his flight paraphernalia.
‘Oh my god, Clara, you’resoembarrassing!’ I hiss at her as he vacates and she collapses into the seat beside me.
‘What?!’ She blinks innocently at me. ‘Just because I’m trying to be a more grown-up, mature version of myself doesn’t mean I’m going to stop trying my luck.’ She winks. ‘And he totally could’ve said no!’
‘We’ll get in trouble with the air stewards,’ I add, glancing anxiously around me.
‘Hey,’ she warns, ‘I’m trying to be less annoying, but you’re meant to be taking more risks and not being such a goody-two-shoes.’
She elbows me and I give her a begrudging smile. ‘OK, fine.’ I lean back into my seat, and then remember. I nudge Clara. ‘Do you fancy a trip to Denmark one day?’
She gives me a quizzical smile. ‘Sure! I mean, it’ll have to wait until I’ve paid back some of my debts and clawed together some savings. I’m going to be paying Mum back for a long time, I reckon.’
I nod. ‘Very sensible, I’m impressed.’
She grins. ‘But I’m so glad you’ve enjoyed your first big trip abroad.’ She pulls a small, plane-issued water bottle out of her bag and cheers me. ‘To many more of them!’ I clink her plastic bottle with mine and she turns in my direction a little more. ‘Hey, I’ve been meaning to ask – what’s going on with the notes at the library? Do you have a name yet?’ She doesn’t give me a chance to consider whether to lie before she’s off again. ‘Because I totally have a theory!’ She grins at me excitedly. ‘Don’t get annoyed when I say this, OK? Just hear me out…’ She gives me half a second and I frown, waiting. ‘I think the man writing the love notes toyou might be…’ she leaves a dramatic beat of silence before adding, ‘… Harry.’
I burst out laughing so hard, the person in front turns around to shoot a disparaging look, while the kid behind kicks my seat.
‘Harry?’ I repeat through giggles, disbelief in my voice.
Clara looks a bit offended by my reaction. ‘Yes! It could be. You know I think you guys would be perfect for each other and Itotallythink he has a thing for you.’ She ticks items off her fingers. ‘He knewToo Good to Be Truewas your favourite book and that you check it out of the library constantly. He knew your schedule so he could make sure he never returned it or left a note when you were there to spot him. He’s been encouraging you to reply the whole time, hasn’t he? He even knew exactly what to say in those notes to win you over. Because heknowsyou.’
I try not to laugh again, but I can’t help it. ‘It’s not Harry,’ I say with amused certainty. ‘It’s one hundred million per centnotHarry.’ She looks perturbed as I shake my head, continuing, ‘I know it’s not him. And also – you absolute bloody idiot – Harry’s not into me, which I know for a fact, because he’s clearly,obviously’ – I pause to triple check she’s definitely listening – ‘without any question… madly in love withyou.’ I let this sink in for a second before I hit her with the second big revelation. ‘And, Clara, you moron, you’re also in love with him.’
Clara shakes her head, snorting. ‘WithHarry? Fuck off!’ She forces a laugh. ‘Harry’s not… I’m not… He’s, like, sucha boring… He likes, y’know,Star Warsand action movies, and he’s, like…nice. Jem, he couldn’t belessmy type. I like bad boys! I go for shitheads who… I… I swear to god, I would never ever, ever… I mean, yes obviously he’s totally the best. He’s too good for me, really. He’s lovely and fun and sweet and so… But I…’ She trails off, her eyes suddenly widening in abject horror. ‘Oh my god I do! Jemma, oh god, I love him. I love Harry. I’m, like,desperatelyin love with him.’ She turns to me in disgust. ‘Ew! Jesus! How did this happen?! How could I let this happen?’
I shrug, trying not to laugh some more. I want her to take this seriously and really hear what I’m saying. ‘Why wouldn’t you be in love with him? He’s wonderful and handsome. And just because it hasn’t been some dramatic thing doesn’t mean it’s not super romantic.’
‘But wait, it can’t be love,’ Clara says impatiently, her eyes getting even wider and more confused. ‘He’s nice to me, he’s my friend. He’s thoughtful and kind. What kind of monster does that make him underneath?’
I shake my head. ‘No monster. Just a real life, flawed, sometimes-idiotic, sometimes pompous, sometimes-brilliant human man.’ I side-smile at her. ‘One who is crazy about you. Like crazy-crazy. Like, forces your sister to realize what a cow she’s been and flies with her to America to bring you home kind of crazy.’
She nods dumbly, looking suddenly intensely vulnerable. ‘Oh my god, Jem, this is really scary stuff.’ She regards me fearfully. ‘Are yousurehe’s into me, too?’
I nod, smiling. ‘I know you’ve only dated shitheads and it’s probably scarier to like someone who could give you a healthy, kind, compassionate sort of love, but you can trust this. Believe me.’ She nods with understanding, then leaps up out of her seat, nearly knocking over a passing steward who glares at her suspiciously.
‘Ma’am, is this actually your seat?’ he asks, and Clara grabs him by the shoulder.
‘Nope! But I’m leaving, don’t worry. I need to go find my friend Harry and tell him I love him. Isn’t that ridiculous?!’ The steward gapes at her and she turns on her heel to go before suddenly turning back. Her eyes are wild and excited. ‘But hold on, before I go, you said you knew for sure it wasn’t Harry writing your notes. Does that mean you have a name? Who is he?’
I reach into my coat pocket and pull out the envelope, waving it. Then I make a face. ‘I’m afraid it’s a total anti-climax. He told me his name, and it’s no one we know.’ Her face falls with disappointment as I add, ‘He’s called Eliot. He’s a random stranger.’
Chapter Forty-OneCLARA
I speed-walk through the plane, looking for Harry’s familiar messy hair. I’m so pumped up; so ready to tell him how I feel.
Jesus Christ, I’m going to tell a boy I like him. I haven’t done anything like this since I was a teenager. I haven’t put myself on the line like this, maybe ever.
And oh god, what if he doesn’t feel the same?
I know Jemma said he does, but what does she know? She hasn’t had a proper boyfriend before.
And I married a cheating, love-bombing narcissist on a whim, so who am I to talk?
My heart is pounding out of my chest as I spot his dark hair on the far side of the plane. There’s a whole row of seats between us.
‘Harry!’ I yell spontaneously. A few heads between us turn, mostly with irritation. Harry’s does not. He’s asleep, I realize. Bugger.
