Page 136 of Double or Nothing

Her expression shifts.

Just a flicker.

But I feel it through her foot in my lap, the instinct to pull away before she stops herself.

“I’ve done some work on them,” she says.

Jack’s eyebrows rise. “Some work? Sounds to me like a lot of work. You were well in the zone when me and Bryce legged it.”

“It’s nothing.”

“Bollocks.”

“I mean it. I just developed them a bit.”

“Soul Girl, don’t spout crap at us, please. What’s really going down here?”

She looks at him, and something in her face softens despite the nerves.

“I don’t know if they’re any good.” She twirls her pencil in her fingers. “They’re different from my others. They might be utter crud under spotlights.”

I hate hearing that from her.

Really hate it.

I’ve heard it over and over again since she was a teenager.

It makes me want to reach inside her chest and pull the self-doubt out by the roots.

“You never really know,” she says. “Not when it comes to your own work.”

Our blond Adonis laughs.

“They’ve got the imprint of BT’s ass on there and a few spurts of my cum. How could they possibly be shit, Alice?”

For once, Jack isn’t reading this right. He doesn’t get it. But I do.

I squeeze her ankle gently.

“Let us take a look,” I say. “I’d love to see them.”

Her eyes find mine.

“For the record,” Jack pipes up, “I was just about to say that.”

Alice lets out a breath that is almost a laugh.

“At least you’re both being genuine about it.”

“Correct,” Jack says, getting to his feet. “Shoes on. We’re going to Hampstead.”

“Now?”

“No, next spring. Yes, now.”

I glance at the clock. It’s late. Too late for a sensible trip across London. Too late for anything good to come of this.

Which means, apparently, that we go. Of course we do.