Page 38

I puff air from my cheeks – like he just gave me permission to be frightened.

‘Yeah, I know,’ I reply, trying to sound like I mean it.

‘So, are you new to the club?’ he asks.

‘Is it that obvious?’ I reply.

‘I don’t think you’d be enjoying my company so much if you knew Manchester were Leeds’ biggest rivals,’ he points out.

‘Well, I can pretend I don’t know that – at least until we’re out of here,’ I reply.

‘Yeah, once we’re back on solid ground, I’m okay with you hating me,’ he jokes. ‘Up here, we have to stick together. What if we never get out? What if we have to repopulate the planet in here?’

I laugh so hard I splutter. I wasn’t expecting him to say that.

‘If all we have to live off is one bottle of champagne, I don’t think we’ll last very long,’ I point out.

‘What a way to go though, eh?’ he replies, almost flirtatiously.

He grins. Oh, he’s definitely a bad boy.

Not because he has said anything particularly outrageous, I know he’s just joking to make me feel better, but he’s almost constantly flirtatious, and he seems so completely at ease. Like he expects life to go his way and, judging by his face, I’ll bet it usually does.

‘How are you finding living in Leeds?’ he asks.

‘I’m from here,’ I reply.

‘You’re from Leeds, and you don’t know about rugby league?’ he blurts. ‘Is that not a hang-able offence over here?’

‘We actually stopped the public hangings recently,’ I say with faux seriousness.

‘Ooh, well, isn’t Yorkshire getting fancy,’ he jokes back.

‘I’m trying to learn more,’ I admit. ‘About rugby, I mean. I thought learning on the job would be best, so I’m watching games, trying to pick up the rules.’

‘Are we talking zero knowledge, like not knowing what a scrum is, or…’

Surely everyone knows what a scrum is, whether they watch rugby or not?

‘Obviously I know what a scrum is, it’s when you all hug,’ I tell him, adopting a ditzy tone. He laughs.

‘Well, if you ever need a private tutor, I could definitely help you out,’ he says – it’s hard to tell if he’s joking or not.

‘I’ll keep that in mind, thank you,’ I reply.

I don’t think he’s stopped smiling since we got stuck – imagine being that chill. It comes easily to him – so does flirting, it would seem, even if he is only doing it for sport.

To be honest, I appreciate it right now. Not because I’m already in the market for a new man, but because it’s a nice distraction from being trapped in a lift. Plus, it’s nice to feel vaguely worthy of a flirt, right? Or am I getting old, if suddenly I’m flattered to simply be eligible? That can’t be right.

‘Are you claustrophobic?’ Jamie asks.

‘I didn’t think so, before this,’ I say with an amused chuckle. ‘I think I’m just generally freaked out, to be honest. This feels like a continuation of my run of bad luck.’

‘Well, don’t worry, because I’m on a good luck streak,’ he assures me. ‘Even if we plummeted to the ground – which we won’t – I’d probably land on my feet.’

‘You’re a rugby player, you’re built for impact,’ I remind him. ‘I’m fragile.’

I don’t tell him this, but I’m fragile in every sense of the word.