Page 42 of Outlier

“Ollie’s cousins?”

“Yes, hiscousins.”

“Oh! Rightthosecousins.” Ollie’s cousins had some of the bluest blood in the UK. “You blankedthem?”

“Didn’t say a word, apparently. My mother was really, really angry when she found out. My point is that I didn’t used to speak to anyone, blue blood or no.”

I smiled at her. “I’d like to have seen that.” Then I let my smile drop. “I really am sorry, Vicky. All I understood was that the prettiest girl I’d ever seen didn’t want to speak to me or my sister. I was already salty about not being one of the posh boys like my two best mates. I’d overheard their school friends asking why they hung out with a townie when they came to stay in the holidays.”

Her mouth dropped open as she stared at me. “You thought I was pretty?”

I grinned. “Baby, you were pretty then; you’re beautiful now. I was an idiot then and an even bigger one now, but hopefully, you’ll keep speaking to me this time—I like the sound of your voice too much.”

“I like the sound of your voice too,” Vicky said quietly as she let her hands loose from under her legs and rested them on the table in front of her.

“Mikey boy!” A large hand clapped me on my back, and I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.

I loved my mates, but this was bad timing.

Vicky didn’t need any more stress tonight, and new people seemed to trigger stress for her, especially if Lottie wasn’t there as a buffer.

Our table was suddenly surrounded by four big blokes.

Vicky shrank back in her chair, her hands shot under her legs again, and I held back a sigh.

“Alright, boys,” I said, receiving a few more back slaps and various greetings. “Lads, this is Vicky.”

Jonny’s eyebrows shot up. “Ollie’s sister, Vicky?”

“Half-sister,” Vicky muttered automatically at her menu. It seemed to be an ingrained reaction whenever Ollie was labelled as her brother.

The boys looked at her curiously, no doubt a bit confused by the lack of eye contact.

“Oh, er… alright then, half-sister.” There was an awkward silence followed by the boys mumbling various greetings at Vicky.

She managed to glance up at them and give them a forced half-smile, but by the end of the introductions, the boys were frowning in confusion.

See, these were friendly salt-of-the-earth lads. They called womenloveandsweetheartand were used to warm interactions and banter.

I knew exactly what they were thinking of Vicky—cold, stuck-up, posh bird who thought she was too good to talk to a bunch of blue-collar blokes.

I didn’t think it could get more awkward, but then…

“So, you’re out with this one? Slim pickings in the big smoke, is it?” Mark said in a teasing tone, putting his hand on her shoulder as he pointed to me.

Vicky, already clearly wound up by the situation, wasn’t ready for any physical contact. She flinched so hard away from Mark that she almost fell off her chair.

I stood up suddenly to pull Mark away from her before he could make anything worse.

He put both of his hands up in the air in a gesture of surrender.

“Woah!” he said, looking shocked. “Jesus, okay. I was just being friendly. I didn’t mean anything by it.” His face was flushed red, and he looked genuinely upset.

The rest of my friends were all scowling at us now. Most of them had taken a step back as if Vicky was an unexploded bomb, their body language closed—arms crossed over their chests, hands shoved in their pockets.

Vicky was still staring down at her menu.

I weighed up my options and thought, fuck it.