“This place is amazing,” I say to Jay as he stands beside me. I’m all too aware of his hand softly touching my lower back. “How the hell can she afford this working in a casino?”

“She plays poker on and off. She does even better than I do most of the time. The winnings helped her to buy this place. There was a time when Jessie didn’t have a home. Her family cast her out, so owning somewhere that’s hers is a big deal.”

“Oh,” I say, taken aback by his candour while imagining what Jay looks like playing poker. Not sure why I find the image appealing, but I do. “You didn’t have a home at one time, either. Is it a big deal for you, too?”

His gaze is meaningful. “More important than anything. But home for me isn’t about a roof and four walls — it’s about people. My real family is dead, so I’ve got to make my own.”

The way he says it makes something catch in my throat. Has he made his own yet? A strange feeling takes hold in my gut, because more than anything I’d like to be a part of that family, even if it is just as a friend.

Our moment is broken when Jessie comes up to us wearing her usual jeans and baggy T-shirt, with the addition of a party hat and a big birthday badge that reads 94.

“Happy birthday, Jess,” says Jay, handing her the present he brought and giving her a tight hug.

“Yeah,” I add, giving her my card and grinning. “Happy birthday. I had no idea you were so old.”

“The surgeons can work wonders these days,” she replies with a wink, looking between the two of us. “Glad you both are on speaking terms again.” She gives Jay a pat on the shoulder and then goes to greet more guests who have just arrived.

I turn to him. “You told her what happened?”

He cocks his eyebrow and gives me a challenging stare. “Like you didn’t tell Michelle.”

I’m not sure why, but I find his expression rather attractive, even if he is being argumentative. It’s kind of…sardonic and sexy.

I don’t say anything for a second, then grumble, “Fine.” I walk away from him, over to the window to join Michelle and Owen, who are getting along quite well. We all get some drinks and go to sit out on the balcony, which is huge and goes around the entire corner of the building. I have to admire Jessie for being so determined to have a place she can call her own.

When I was little, before Mum died, we used to live in a wonderful old house on a patch of land just outside the city. It was where my mother grew up, and there was so much love put into it. I like our house now just fine, but there was something about that old place. It was special. Close to the life of the city but with the tranquillity of the countryside.

It was home.

It was the happiest place on earth until all the bad luck came. It felt like all of a sudden a dark cloud had descended, blocking out the sun. We used to have these neighbours; they had two sons who I played with almost every day. One was my age and the other a little older. I can hardly remember what those two boys looked like anymore; they’re just a hazy memory. I was only a kid, but my latest obsession had been motherhood, so I used to pretend they were my babies and I’d take care of them, making them food and giving them toys to play with.

I was a little weird.

Anyway, long story short. Their house caught fire one night, and the family didn’t survive; only the older boy did. Then he went away, probably to live with relatives or a foster family. It was so long ago that I can’t remember.

After that the dark cloud moved to our house. The burglars broke in and killed Mum, beat up Dad, and gave me a scar I’d never get rid of. Soon after, Dad sold the house. It’s not even there anymore. Now there’s a swanky five-star hotel where my dream home used to be.

Somebody touches my hand. “Matilda, are you okay?” Owen asks, concerned.

“Oh, yeah, I’m fine. Just having a little daydream.”

He smiles, his eyes interested. “Really? What about?”

I suddenly realise he thinks I was daydreaming about him. Hmm, how to answer? “Nothing much, just memories.”

We’re interrupted by loud clapping, and I look inside the apartment to see Jay surrounded by party guests as he performs his complicated card tricks. He’s like a light, always attracting people to him. He gives them a bow and goes to grab a beer. Somehow his eyes meet mine and lock before focusing in on Owen’s hand on my hand. He swallows some beer. I look away.

Michelle has caught the attention of a twenty-something blond guy. She’s sitting on Jessie’s deck furniture and flirting with him. I nod to Owen, and he follows me over to join them, sitting close beside me. A minute later, I can practically sense Jay’s presence as he steps out onto the balcony, taking the seat directly in front of me.

Michelle laughs loudly at something the blond guy says, and I’m glad for the sound. It covers up the tension of Jay’s silence. What the hell is his problem?

“Hey, I saw you doing card tricks in there,” says Owen to Jay. “Is that a hobby of yours?”

Jay cuts his eyes to him, no expression on his face. “Nah, not a hobby. It’s my living.”

“Oh, wow, really. That’s great. Do you get much work out of it?”

Jay rolls his shoulders. “A bit.”

Owen finally seems to catch on to the fact that Jay doesn’t want to talk him, so he turns his attention back to me. “You know, Matilda, I really love your dress. Did I tell you how amazing you look tonight?”

Jay throws his eyes to the heavens, shakes his head, and knocks back a slug of beer.

“Thank you. I made it myself, actually,” I reply quietly.

“Really? I’m impressed. You know, I was so happy that you wanted to see me again. I was beginning to lose hope.”

Jay lets out a long, exaggerated sigh before muttering under his breath, “You could have called her.”

My eyes cut to him. “What was that?”

He gives me an innocent look. “Nothing. Did I say something?”

“Yeah,” I snap. “I think you did.”

“Well, I think you’re mistaken.” His eyes gleam, like he’s enjoying my reaction, like he’s goading me.

I decide to ignore him, focusing my attention on Owen. He’s looking between Jay and me, seeming confused by our sniping. I try to make conversation with him, get to know him more, but Jay sits there the entire time, making various noises to ruin the atmosphere. When Owen tells me he likes to play tennis, Jay snorts. When he expresses an interest in the history of the ancient Greeks, Jay starts chuckling quietly to himself.

In the end I get so annoyed with him that I jump up from my seat, the metal squealing against the floor. He’s being completely rude, and I can tell that Owen is upset but is trying not to show it.

“You’re…you’re being a dickhead,” I burst out before grabbing Owen’s hand and leading him away with me. Jay’s expression at my outburst isn’t shock or guilt; it’s satisfaction. He wanted me to get mad. Stopping when we get around a corner that leads from the main section of the apartment to the bedrooms, I put a hand on Owen’s shoulder and apologise profusely.

“I’m so sorry about him. I think he might be drunk.” Jay isn’t drunk in the slightest, but it’s the only excuse I can come up with for his terrible behaviour. Owen’s cheeks are red with embarrassment.

“It’s okay. I think I might call it a night anyway,” he says. “I’ve got work in the morning.”

“You don’t have to leave.”

“Nah, I should go. I’ll call you. We’ll do something else soon. Just the two of us.”

I smile at him. “Yeah, okay. I’d like that.” My smile is half-hearted, though, because I have a feeling Owen isn’t going to be calling any time in the near or distant future. Jay made sure of that.

He leans down and gives me a reluctant peck on the cheek, then a quick hug before leaving. I stand there, trying to tamp down my fury. I have a good mind to march right back out to Jay and give him what for. In fact, I think that’s what I will do.

Striding through the apartment and back out onto the balcony, I find Jay in the same spot I left him in. He’s lounging back in his chair, nursing his beer and smoking a cigarette. I stop a foot or two in front of him and fold my arms, my eyes narrowed to slits.

“The douche chef gone already?” he asks with a big grin, leisurely blowing out smoke. I want to smack the expression right off his stupid handsome face.

“Yeah, no thanks to you. What the hell were you playing at? You were so…so mean. It’s not like you at all.”

Another swallow of beer and a shrug. His lack of a response infuriates me.

“You hurt his feelings, and he was nothing but nice to you. I don’t like this side of you, Jay. What’s gotten into you?”

He looks away, gracing me with his gorgeous profile. God, does he have to be so attractive? It doesn’t help my situation one tiny bit. He sets the bottle down on the table and stubs out his smoke, then leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. When he looks up at me, his eyes are dark, angry, almost. “I don’t like him.”

“He’s done nothing to you.”

Jay lets out a joyless laugh. “Oh, I beg to differ.”

We stare at each other for a long time, our eyes battling it out.

“Is everything okay?” Michelle asks, walking over from the railing where she and the blond guy had moved their conversation, probably to escape the tension between Jay and me.

“Owen’s gone home,” I tell her, finally breaking our stare.

“Oh. Well, not to worry. He was probably just tired.”

“Nope. Jay was acting like a right arsehole,” I snap, my eyes on Jay the entire time. “That’s why he left.”

With that I turn on my heel and stomp away. Behind me I can hear Michelle chewing out an uncharacteristically silent Jay. I make my way to the kitchen, where Jessie is currently doing shots with two attractive brunettes.

“Hey, Matilda, you want one?” she asks, offering me a shot glass of dark liquid. Without a word I take it from her and knock it back all in one go. It tastes vile, like chemicals and liquorice. Still, when she gives me another, I drink every drop the same as the first.

“Have you got any vodka?” I ask, and she locates a small bottle. I take it from her and go in search of orange juice, pouring both into a glass.

“Are you all right, honey?” Jessie asks, concerned.

“Jay’s a dick.”

She laughs. “Yeah. I love that man like my own flesh and blood, but he has his difficult moments. I put up with them because it’s only one percent of him. The other ninety-nine percent is pretty f**king amazing.”

And isn’t that the truth. Right now I can’t stand him, but at the same time he’s probably the best person I’ve ever known. I hate fighting with him, but I really can’t let him get away with his behaviour around Owen. He needs to know he can’t treat people like that.

Michelle shows up then, petting my hair. “Don’t let him ruin your night, honey. Come on, we’re going to dance that frown upside down.”

I muster a smile and allow her to drag me away. She leads me over to the open space that’s been designated as the dance floor. One of Jessie’s friends is DJ-ing over in the corner, loud dubstep music filling the apartment. I close my eyes and just go with it, dancing to the beat. A while later the guy Michelle had been talking with and one of his friends join us. We all dance as a group, but soon Michelle pairs off with her guy, and the friend sets his sights on me.

Usually, in a situation like this, I’ll figure out some way of keeping the dancing friendly. But not tonight. Tonight I’m out to erase my crush on Jay once and for all. The guy I’m dancing with is tall and dark-haired. He puts his hands on my h*ps and leans down to whisper in my ear.

“I’m Stuart.”

“Matilda,” I reply, and he smiles.

The music seems to get louder as we continue dancing. After a while, his hands stray from my hips. It feels like they’re everywhere. Sliding up and down my back, grazing my bottom. All the while there’s an itching beneath my skin. I can’t lie to myself and pretend that I like this. In fact, I kind of hate it. I want his hands off me right now.

I’ve never been one of those girls who can let men do things because I’m feeling reckless. Even when I’m reckless, if I don’t like the guy, then there’s this weird little bubble of steel deep in my gut that won’t allow me to take things further.

As I dance, I curse myself for having that steel bubble. It ruins everything.

I don’t have to politely tell Stuart that I’d prefer it if he kept his hands to himself, though, because all of a sudden those hands are being ripped away from me.

Twenty-One

I see the punch connect before I recognise who’s doing the punching. Then I notice the familiar tattoos on the arms, and I know it’s Jay. Oh, my God.

“Keep your f**king hands off her,” he fumes, clutching Stuart’s shirt in his fist.

“What the hell, man? We were only dancing!”

“Yeah, I don’t give a f**k what you were only doing,” Jay spits.

At this moment Jessie saunters over, throwing an arm around Jay’s shoulder and crooning “John, I’m Only Dancing” by David Bowie into his face. Obviously, this is an effort to diffuse the situation. The second Jay hears her, his anger dissipates, and he almost smiles. His jaw is still set tight, though. He lets go of Stuart’s shirt, and Stuart backs away, looking at Jay like he’s nuts.

“You’re crazy,” he mumbles, smoothing out his shirt.