CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The weekend passed quickly. James nursed his hangover and I didn’t really do anything. I couldn’t be bothered. By the time Monday morning arrived, I realised I still hadn’t heard anything from Tom. Susan and Lily were nattering on about a load of rubbish, and I was just nodding in the right places– at least I hoped I was.
My boredom was interrupted by the sound of my phone, signalling I had received a message. It was Tom.
Can you make it this weekend?
I wanted to reply instantly, my heart was pounding, but I felt I should make him wait. I slipped my phone back into my bag.
“Anyone interesting?” remarked Lily.
“No, just Oliver.” I could feel my skin colouring up as I said it. I read the same line on my computer about four times before I realised it was no good; I had
