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‘You want water?’
‘I mean, a Coke.’
‘Anything in it?’
‘Ice.’
He laughs. I feel my cheeks colour.
‘Back in a tick,’ he says.
I want to grab his hand and stop him leaving, but he’s gone. I turn back to the others. They’re staring at me. My heart hammers. I look for somewhere to sit. There’s space on one of the benches.
‘That’s where Liam is sitting,’ says the girl, Georgia, who slides sideways, closing the gap. She’s wearing tiny denim shorts that show the bottom of her arse cheeks and a sleeveless body suit cut high, exposing flesh from her hips to the bottom of her ribs. She’s about my age. Pretty. Pouty.
Next to her is a bearded black guy wearing a red bandana around his head and a line of studs in the cartilage of his ears. Opposite are two boys, who look like twins, with identical faux hawk haircuts with blond highlights. One of them has a packet of cigarettes rolled into the sleeve of his T-shirt. The other has a tattoo of a tiger on his forearm.
‘Sit here,’ says the smoker, sliding sideways, creating a space between himself and tiger boy. I don’t want to be trapped between them, but I step over the bench and sit down, tucking my hands under my thighs.
Georgia lifts her sunglasses onto her forehead. ‘So, Edie, how do you know Liam?’
‘It’s Evie,’ I say.
She pouts. ‘How do you know Liam?’
‘He lives near me.’
‘You’re neighbours.’
‘Sort of.’
‘I haven’t seen you around before,’ says tiger boy. ‘Where did you grow up?’
‘All over the place.’
‘You at university?’
‘No. I work at an animal shelter.’
‘Are you studying to be a vet?’ asks Georgia.
‘No.’
‘What do you do at the shelter?’
‘I feed the dogs and clean their cages—’
‘You pick up shit.’
‘I arrange the adoptions,’ I say, wanting to scratch her eyes out. ‘And I look after the puppies.’
‘I love puppies,’ says tiger boy.
Georgia wrinkles her nose as though she can smell me from across the rough wooden table.
‘Where did you go to school?’ asks the bandana guy.
‘Nottingham College.’
