“Oh, but you did. I think this is the night you took six shots of tequila and spilled hummus all over your carpet.” He scrolls down. “You also saidI swear his jawline is like, ninety degreesandomg he’s utterly flawless.” I try to swipe at him. He dodges out of the way.“Well, almost flawless.He has a really cute birthmark shaped like a fish on the back of his neck.God, I don’t even want toknowhow you got close enough to see his birthmarks. Do you have binoculars stashed away somewhere?”
I shove him away from the desk. “Didn’t you say you had to leave? Feel free to do that. Right now.”
He laughs, grabbing his coat. “Yeah, yeah. Call me later, okay? Good luck with the job hunt. Love you.”
“Bye,” I call, and he blows me a kiss, slamming out of the flat. As his footsteps echo down the corridor, I sag back in my desk chair, spinning to look out of the window again. Jack is still slumped on the steps, his head in his hands. Worry twinges in me.
Tragically, Benny is right. I’ve been secretly crushing on Jack ever since I moved into this building. The sad part is, I’ve only ever talked to him once, on the day I moved in. I was trying to drag two giant suitcases into the lift, and Jack spotted me struggling. He bent down and picked them both up like they weighed nothing, his blue eyes shy behind his hipster glasses. I was immediately smitten.
Ever since then, he’s smiled at me a couple of times while we were waiting for the lifts or checking our mailboxes, but that’s been the full extent of our interactions. I don’t think he even knows my name.
As I watch, Jack stands, hanging his head, and climbs back up the steps into the building. I wait for him to disappear, then sigh, turning my attention back to the job listing site I’ve been crawling for the past three hours. I need to concentrate.
I’ve been unemployed for almost a full year now, ever since my old nannying agency went bust last summer. At first, I wasn’t too worried; I was sure I had enough savings to last until I found my next job. London is full of busy, professional parents. How hard can it really be to find a nannying gig?
Very hard, it turns out. I’ve applied to over a hundred positions over the past year, with no luck at all. My savings ran out, and then so did my overdraft. And now I’m about two weeks from becoming homeless. My eyes drop to the pile of bills stacked on the corner of my desk. It’s getting dangerously tall.
Anxiety crunches my stomach. Taking a deep breath, I open a new browser tab and type in the name of another job site, widening my search options. I’ll take anything at this point. Hazardous waste removal. Toilet cleaning. Filling out online surveys. I’m seriously desperate.
I’ve been steadily scrolling through listings for about fifteen minutes, when I’m interrupted by a knock on my door. I frown, looking up from my computer.
No one ever knocks at my door. I like to keep to myself. Benny is pretty much my only friend, and he had his own key made, so he usually just barges in.
“Bethany,” a low voice calls outside. “Um, Bethany Ellis? Are you in there? It’s Jack. I live above you, in apartment 5A.”
I go still.
“You, uh, might not know who I am,” he continues, his voice muffled by the wood, “but me and my flatmates have run into a bit of a problem. We could really use a hand, if you’re in there.”
Two
Beth
For a moment, I’m frozen, my heart pounding in my chest. Then I jump into motion, scrambling out of my chair and lurching towards my mirror. God. I look like crap. There’s a hole in my t-shirt, my makeup is smudged, and my red curls are unbrushed and wild. I try to comb through them with my fingers, but they just stand up even more, frizzing around my pale face. Swearing under my breath, I cast around my room for a hair tie, finally spotting one under my desk. I launch myself at it like a batter sliding into home base and frantically tug my hair into a sloppy bun, then look around wildly for some clothes. A pile of clean laundry I haven’t bothered to put away is stacked next to my bed, and I grab a striped summer dress, shimmying into it as fast as possible.
In the hallway, there’s another half-hearted knock, and then a muffled curse. Shit. He’s about to leave. I grab my keys and throw myself at the front door, frantically unlocking it and yanking it open. Jack has already turned around, heading back down the corridor.
“Hi, sorry!” I call. “I thought I heard someone knocking. Did you want something?”
He spins back to face me, his face lighting up, and butterflies explode in my stomach.
Jack Insley is even more stunning than I remember. High cheekbones, square jaw, and electric-blue eyes shining at me from behind a pair of dark-rimmed glasses. His blonde hair is spiky from him running his fingers through it, and he’s wearing a pair of Converse with Pacman printed on the side. The whole effect is verygeek chic.
He’s also shirtless.
Holy crap, his body isincredible. Tanned and muscled, with wide shoulders, strong arms, and a flat, washboard stomach. My eyes take in the shadows underneath his full pecs, then trail down the ridges of his lean abs, following the tight V of his hips as they disappear into his jeans…
“Bethany Ellis, right?” He asks, and I jerk back to reality, my gaze flying up to meet his. He’s smiling nervously. “I saw your flyers in the reception.”
It takes me a few seconds to remember what he’s talking about, then my heart sinks. He doesn’t remember my name; he’s just seen the leaflet I pinned to the noticeboard downstairs. In a final act of desperation, I posted my details on the bulletin board, just in case anyone in the building needed childcare.
Guess I’m the only one who’s been stalking from afar, then.
“It’s Beth,” I say breathlessly. “You’re Jack.”
“Yeah,” he grins. “Look, this is going to sound weird, but do you know how to stop babies crying?”
I blink, taken aback. “Uh. Yes?”