Page 192 of Falling for You

Shit. I think I’ve really cut myself.

I’m about to run my hand under the tap when I hear the faint jingle of my ringtone. I dash into the living room and snatch up my phone, answering it before I’ve even clocked who’s calling.

‘Hello?’

‘You all right?’

I recognise the relaxed rhythm of Remy’s voice instantly and before I can compose myself, I hear myself blurt, ‘Remy, do you know where the nearest hospital is?’

‘Here you are, lad.’

I glance up as Remy hands me a polystyrene cup. I hold it with my free arm, my other still held aloft, as instructed by the frazzled nurse who bandaged me up and told me to stay put until she got back. That was about thirty minutes ago.

‘Thanks,’ I say. ‘Sorry.’

‘Stop apologising.’ Remy hadn’t asked why I needed to go to hospital. He just wanted to know where I was, andthen twenty minutes later showed up in his black cab and told me to get in. He only asked me two questions: if I was okay, and if I’d been in a fight. I heard myself answer no to both of them, before hurriedly adding that I was fine really and that I was probably overreacting. I said this while I had an entire roll of kitchen roll on my lap, which was thinning out by the minute as it sucked up my blood like a thirsty sponge.

I jump as my phone vibrates next to me. I grab it, only to see a pointless email from Deliveroo. It makes me so angry that I almost launch my phone across the room. Remy catches my expression and raises an eyebrow.

‘Are you sure you’re all right?’

‘Yes. I’m fine.’

He looks pointedly down at my phone. ‘What’s that about, then?’

‘What’s what?’

‘Who are you waiting to hear from? You’re not wound up about that girl, are you?’

In the middle of my desperate worry about my mom, my anger that they still haven’t called me back even though they will have been awake for hours, my embarrassment at having to call Remy for help and my slight self-pity for my slashed hand, I feel a spark of excitement as Annie’s face pops into my head.

‘That girl?’ I echo.

‘The one from the speed dating – the one you left with.’

I shake my head and wiggle my fingers as pins and needles creep over them like tiny, prickly spiders.

Remy takes a sip of his coffee. ‘She seemed nice.’

I spot the twinkle in his eye and can’t help but smile.

‘What’s your story then, Remy?’ I ask. ‘Why are you spending your weekends hanging out with me? Do you have someone at home?’

Remy shakes his head. ‘Oh no, not me.’

‘I bet you know all the tricks.’

He smiles, his lips pressed together. ‘I know a few.’

‘Well then, what? Are you dating someone? What’s going on?’

He gives me a look and places his coffee on the floor. ‘Nothing, mate.’

‘Why not?’

He shrugs coyly. ‘Who knows, eh?’

I knit my brow when an idea pops into my head. ‘Do you like theatre?’