Page 18 of How To Tackle A Crush
She pauses again before writing.
Thinking before recording.
That decides it.
If someone is actually paying attention, they deserve some of mine back.
I let the next question finish and then I look straight towards the back row.
She looks up at exactly the wrong moment and immediately realises she has been seen. There’s a flicker of uncertainty before she glances behind her, as if hoping I might mean someone else.
There isn’t anyone else.
“And you,” I say.
She freezes like she wasn’t planning on existing today.
“Yes,” I add, keeping my tone neutral. Easy. “You’ve been taking notes the whole time.”
Her mouth opens.
Nothing comes out.
Right. Definitely not someone who came here hoping to be involved.
“Yes,” she says eventually.
“What’s your name?”
“Ava.”
Just Ava. No rush to add more.
“Where from?”
“The Carlisle Gazette.”
Local press.
“Go on then, Ava,” I say. “What’s your question?”
She freezes again.
“I… wasn’t actually supposed to talk,” she says.
A few journalists chuckle.
She ignores them.
“I’m usually a proofreader,” she adds. “I was sent because everyone else is on the toile—I mean… medically unavailable.”
That actually gets a proper laugh.
She looks faintly horrified that she caused it.
“So I don’t really know what I’m supposed to ask,” she continues, then presses on anyway. “But you don’t sound like someone who came here for football reasons.”
I lean back slightly. “No?”
