“But our session isn’t due until next week.”
“I’m so bored, Clements. I’m stuck at home with no money and nothing to do. Come over and entertain me.” He reached out and lifted her hands from her lap, holding one in each of his. “We can have some extra hand-holding practise. We didn’t even get to the sweaty palm stage today. Do you even sweat, Clements?”
“Yes. You should see me after a run.”
He lifted an eyebrow and said in a low voice, “I’d like that.” In his usual voice, he added, “That was mild flirting by the way. I’m going to start dropping it in here and there so you learn to recognise it.”
“Oh. Thank you.”
Jay laughed, and this time it did feel like he was laughingather. She drew her hands back, uncomfortable, but he tightened his grip on her fingers.
“Seriously, Clements. Come for a swim tomorrow. We can practise our breaststroke.”
“Don’t tease me, Jay.”
“I’m not.”
“But you don’t really want me to come over tomorrow. Nobody ever wants to spend time with me.”
“I do.”
“I can’t. Mother made plans. And she doesn’t like you.”
Jay smiled, unperturbed. He was probably used to parents despising him.
“Make an excuse. Pretend you’re seeing a friend. A different one, I mean. Not me.”
“I don’t… I don’t have any.”
“Make one up then. Your old school friend, Georgiana Frimblebottom from Sister Hagtooth’s Convent for Nice Girls. I presume that’s where you went to school.”
She laughed. How could she not? But still she said no. Seeing Jay tomorrow wasn’t in the plan. And she didn’t like to deviate from the plan.
Besides. She needed time to recover from today, from the way he was holding her hands, his fingertips light against her palms, his thumbs rubbing the skin near her wrist.
Hedidgive good hand, she thought as she drove away. And next week waskissing. And she wasn’t at all ready for that.
Chapter seven
Jay
Jayjoggedupthestairs and into the entrance hall of his father’s house smiling. Every time he made Sophia laugh, he felt pleased, as though he was uncovering a secret. He almost felt proud. And that wasn’t something he had felt in a long time.
“What are you looking so happy about?” his father barked, catching Jay by surprise as he crossed the entrance hall, making his step momentarily falter.
“Just imagining the day I inherit,” Jay drawled, swapping his smile for something bland and impervious.
His father glared at him from the entrance to the coat room. He had a burgundy wax jacket bundled over his arm. About to go out, Jay supposed. He was glad Sophia had made her escape before his father appeared on the front steps.
“You’re awfully cocky for someone about to be made penniless. It’s been a week and I’ve yet to see you do anything towards getting this money.”
“You’ll get your money,” said Jay dismissively, walking to the stairs.
“You think one of your useless friends is going to lend it to you? They’d have to be even stupider than you if they think you’re a good bet. How are you going to pay them back, hm?”
Jay paused, one foot on the stairs, holding the bannister lightly, and fixed his father with a winning smile. “Actually father, I’m selling my body for sexual favours. I got the idea from Ashleigh.”
His father turned crimson, a dark shade, fairly similar to the coat he was holding. Jay watched in bitter amusement as the wrath boiled in his eyes.
