He was gazing down at his feet, his eyebrows drawn together.
“They’re fine,” he added. “It’s just… it’s complicated.”
“Yeah,” said Renee. “Family, huh?”
He smiled. Renee had to stop looking at him; he was too beautiful. This crush was getting out of hand.
Ket Siong was definitely the best-looking guy to have broken her heart, even including Jason. Also the nicest. At least the worst thing Ket Siong had done was change his mind about wanting to be with her.
At the time it had felt like the worst thing that had ever happened to her, but it was several steps up from some of her other exes’ greatest hits. It wasn’t Ket Siong’sfaultif he was attracted to her but didn’t want a relationship. At least she knew now.
Do you know, though?said that annoying inner Nathalie voice.Sure, he dumped you ten years ago, but this time around he went home with you. And he wanted to keep seeing you after. You’re the one who said you weren’t looking for anything serious.
Nor was she, and for good reason. Renee wasn’t going to do this now, the night before a potentially life-changing meeting. She was going to have a nice bowl of ramen with Ket Siong and then she was going to go home by herself, watch half an episode of something brainless on Netflix, and turn in early.
“Oh,” she said, as they turned a corner onto the narrow street approaching the restaurant. There was a queue going round the building. “Sorry. We could go somewhere else?”
“You wanted to eat here,” said Ket Siong. “Let’s wait.”
Renee glanced back towards Carnaby Street as they joined the queue. The festive lights display this year was on a tropical theme. An arch made of leaping twin tigers loomed over the entrance to the street. Green palm leaves fanned out in a shimmering canopy; monkeys swung off the lampposts. There was even a Rafflesia, monstrous cartoony petals outlined in twinkling red lights.
“I need to take a selfie with that Rafflesia,” she said. The lights were less elaborate in the side alley they were on: glowing pink-and-purple bulbs, strung between the buildings. “The lights are so pretty this year.”
“Yes,” said Ket Siong, but he was looking at her.
Renee’s stupid heart skipped a beat. She averted her eyes and pulled her coat closer around herself, shivering.
“It’s really feeling like winter now,” she said. “You’ll have Christmas shopping to do, right? You guys celebrate.”
“We don’t make a big deal of the presents. It’s more about thefood,” said Ket Siong. But he wasn’t interested in discussing his family’s Christmas traditions. “You’re cold?”
“It’s been so warm lately today’s taken me off guard.” Renee shook her head. “I should’ve layered up. British weather, huh?”
Ket Siong unwound the scarf around his neck, settled it on her shoulders, and wrapped its length around her neck, twice. Renee couldn’t look at his face, so she stared at his throat, her heart fluttering in her chest like a trapped bird.
His fingertips grazed the high collar of her dress, but made no contact with her skin. You could hardly call it a touch. There was no reason for her body to light up all over—as though he had run his hands over her; as though he had kissed her. But it did.
The scarf was soft, warm from the heat of his body. It smelt of him, a clean male animal scent.
Ket Siong’s Adam’s apple moved as he swallowed. He gave the scarf a final twitch and stepped back.
22
It struck KetSiong a second too late that he should have asked first. Offered Renee his scarf, instead of putting it on her, as though he had a right to touch her.
The lights overhead were reflected in her eyes. She’d looked tired when he saw her on Regent Street, but under the glow of the lights, her face smoothed out. The dark circles under her eyes and the minute worry lines around her mouth vanished.
Ten years fell away. They might have been students again, at the very start of their adult lives. She was his best friend, and he was in love with her.
He was still in love with Renee.
He hadn’t allowed himself to think it in so many words, before now.
Renee reached up to touch the scarf.
He should say something, apologise. But she spoke first.
“Oh, this is thegoodstuff.” She ran the scarf between her fingers, her face lit up with delight. “Is this real pashmina? The texture’s beautiful.”
