Read Online The First Last Kiss by Ali Harris - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Ali Harris
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stride off down the High Street, hoping he’ll get the hint and give up. He doesn’t.
‘Well, I have a way with women,’ he laughs, easily catching me up. ‘Especially teachers. They love me.’
I see him look at his reflection in a shop window and inwardly gag. God he loves himself, not without reason, but still. ‘ I thought the great Ryan Cooper would be way above the whole teacher’s pet routine . . . ’
‘Not if it gets me time alone with a girl I like,’ he grins.
‘Your mates aren’t around now, Ryan,’ I say. ‘You don’t have to pretend .’
He frowns and shrugs, like he doesn’t know what I’m talking about. I turn and take a picture of a couple kissing outside a café.
‘What are you taking photos of?’ he asks.
‘Just stuff. I take photos of everything.’
‘What about me?’ He jumps in front of the camera and performs a series of cheesy catalogue poses, laughing unselfconsciously at himself as he does so.
I lower my lens and stare at him unflinchingly. ‘Sorry, I should have clarified. I take photos of everything . . . that interests me .’ I lift my chin and stalk past him.
‘Oooh, that hurt,’ he says, clutching his stomach and staggering around as if I’d stabbed him. I try not to smile as he bounds back over to me. ‘So do you fancy hitting Topman with me? I want something new to wear tonight to The Grand.’ He pauses and flicks his blond hair out of his face with his hand. ‘Are you going?’
‘Not allowed,’ I say. Then I mentally kick myself.
A smile hovers over his lips. ‘From what I’ve heard, that has never stopped you before.’
He’s right. I’ve been going to pubs and clubs since I was fourteen. Not that my parents know. The drainpipe outside my bedroom window comes in pretty handy and they’re always too busy doing their marking or reading or listening to their embarrassing old 60s’ music to notice I’ve gone. I turn and walk towards Topshop, biting my lip to hide my delight as Ryan follows me.
‘Guurghh.’ I stick my fingers down my throat as Ryan steps out of the changing room wearing a pair of denim dungarees.
‘What?’ he says defensively.
‘Why is one of the straps flapping over your shoulder like that? I can see your nipple!’
Ryan looks offended. ‘But it’s really fashionable,’ he pouts prettily. ‘Robbie Williams looked well cool in them in the ‘Pray’ video. And all the girls love him . . . ’
‘Not all the girls,’ I reply with a grimace. ‘Seriously, take my advice and take them off. NO, not here!’ I flap my hands and cover my eyes as he starts to undo the other strap.
Ryan grins. ‘I knew you couldn’t resist me . . . ’
I fight back a smile. ‘Get back in your changing room! Go!’ I order.
‘Make up your mind, Molly Carter, you either want me or you don’t.’ He grins.
I manage to stay poker-faced despite the unexpected fireworks in my pants, and Ryan shrugs and then retreats back inside.
‘You know,’ I call, as I examine my chipped plum-coloured nail polish, trying desperately to reduce my heart rate at the thought of him undressing. ‘I was under the illusion that it’s girls who are obsessed with shopping, not wannabe local football stars.’
He pops his head round the changing-room door and I see a flash of bare chest as he pulls on a sandy-coloured suede shirt. I can feel the blush spreading over my cheeks, and I immediately lean down and closely inspect my trusty scuffed Converse, which I’ve customized and which I’m wearing with a long black skirt and a crushed-velvet black bodysuit. I like black. And not just because it’s the only colour that doesn’t clash with my self-cut and hennaed hair.
‘I didn’t think Topshop was your style,’ he replies with a grin.
I fold my arms. ‘You think you’ve got me all sussed, don’t you, Cooper?’
He shakes his head. ‘Nope. I haven’t got a clue about you, Molly. That’s why I like you, babe.’
‘I’m not your babe,’ I
‘Well, I have a way with women,’ he laughs, easily catching me up. ‘Especially teachers. They love me.’
I see him look at his reflection in a shop window and inwardly gag. God he loves himself, not without reason, but still. ‘ I thought the great Ryan Cooper would be way above the whole teacher’s pet routine . . . ’
‘Not if it gets me time alone with a girl I like,’ he grins.
‘Your mates aren’t around now, Ryan,’ I say. ‘You don’t have to pretend .’
He frowns and shrugs, like he doesn’t know what I’m talking about. I turn and take a picture of a couple kissing outside a café.
‘What are you taking photos of?’ he asks.
‘Just stuff. I take photos of everything.’
‘What about me?’ He jumps in front of the camera and performs a series of cheesy catalogue poses, laughing unselfconsciously at himself as he does so.
I lower my lens and stare at him unflinchingly. ‘Sorry, I should have clarified. I take photos of everything . . . that interests me .’ I lift my chin and stalk past him.
‘Oooh, that hurt,’ he says, clutching his stomach and staggering around as if I’d stabbed him. I try not to smile as he bounds back over to me. ‘So do you fancy hitting Topman with me? I want something new to wear tonight to The Grand.’ He pauses and flicks his blond hair out of his face with his hand. ‘Are you going?’
‘Not allowed,’ I say. Then I mentally kick myself.
A smile hovers over his lips. ‘From what I’ve heard, that has never stopped you before.’
He’s right. I’ve been going to pubs and clubs since I was fourteen. Not that my parents know. The drainpipe outside my bedroom window comes in pretty handy and they’re always too busy doing their marking or reading or listening to their embarrassing old 60s’ music to notice I’ve gone. I turn and walk towards Topshop, biting my lip to hide my delight as Ryan follows me.
‘Guurghh.’ I stick my fingers down my throat as Ryan steps out of the changing room wearing a pair of denim dungarees.
‘What?’ he says defensively.
‘Why is one of the straps flapping over your shoulder like that? I can see your nipple!’
Ryan looks offended. ‘But it’s really fashionable,’ he pouts prettily. ‘Robbie Williams looked well cool in them in the ‘Pray’ video. And all the girls love him . . . ’
‘Not all the girls,’ I reply with a grimace. ‘Seriously, take my advice and take them off. NO, not here!’ I flap my hands and cover my eyes as he starts to undo the other strap.
Ryan grins. ‘I knew you couldn’t resist me . . . ’
I fight back a smile. ‘Get back in your changing room! Go!’ I order.
‘Make up your mind, Molly Carter, you either want me or you don’t.’ He grins.
I manage to stay poker-faced despite the unexpected fireworks in my pants, and Ryan shrugs and then retreats back inside.
‘You know,’ I call, as I examine my chipped plum-coloured nail polish, trying desperately to reduce my heart rate at the thought of him undressing. ‘I was under the illusion that it’s girls who are obsessed with shopping, not wannabe local football stars.’
He pops his head round the changing-room door and I see a flash of bare chest as he pulls on a sandy-coloured suede shirt. I can feel the blush spreading over my cheeks, and I immediately lean down and closely inspect my trusty scuffed Converse, which I’ve customized and which I’m wearing with a long black skirt and a crushed-velvet black bodysuit. I like black. And not just because it’s the only colour that doesn’t clash with my self-cut and hennaed hair.
‘I didn’t think Topshop was your style,’ he replies with a grin.
I fold my arms. ‘You think you’ve got me all sussed, don’t you, Cooper?’
He shakes his head. ‘Nope. I haven’t got a clue about you, Molly. That’s why I like you, babe.’
‘I’m not your babe,’ I
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