From London With Love

07 | lime and punishment

Her grandmother — a highschool teacher — had also been the one to suggest Ophelia, after the heroine in "Hamlet." Which, admittedly, was a little grim considering her fate. But, hey; Ophelia had never been mixed up with any other student on the attendance list.

Small mercies.

"I'll go next," Louise announced.

Ophelia groaned. Oh, god; this would be bad.

"I know." Louise's eyes sparkled. "What does your tattoo mean?"

"You already know that."

"But the others don't."

Ophelia scowled, rubbing at the three dots on her finger idly. Louise gave her a radiant smile, clearly unconcerned. She stared down at the cards in her hand. There was no way that she was looking at Andrew right now. He would laugh his ass off.

"It's an ellipsis."

"And?" Louise prompted.

"Well, I got it because I like the idea that a story isn't over when you close the book. That it continues in some space that we can't see."

She could feel her cheeks burning. Stupid Louise. Andrew was probably doing that stupid, superior smirk, the one that he got when they talked about the Kardashians or people that bought Meal Deals at Boots.

She peeked at him. To her surprise, Andrew's blue eyes were steady. Like twin tidal pools, warm and tepid after the tide went out.

"My turn," he said softly. "Why did you spill that coffee?"

Ophelia froze. She was dimly aware of Henry and Louise exchanging a look of confusion, but she knew exactly what Andrew was referring to: Lady Windermere's café, when he had brushed the eyelash off her cheek. She felt her face grow warm.

No way was Ophelia admitting to Andrew that she was — even just for a tiny, infinitesimal moment — turned on by him.

Like hell.

"Right," Ophelia said hoarsely. "Where's the tequila?"

She took two shots, and then gagged.

"Lime! I need lime."

Louise pressed a wedge of citrus fruit into her hand, and Ophelia bit down on it, shuddering as the tequila coated her throat. Oh, god. That stuff should be criminal.

They played again; the round took longer this time, with Henry claiming victory after twenty minutes. Louise placed second, and Ophelia claimed third place by ten points. Andrew sighed, shuffling his cards.

"Let's get this over with."

"I'll go," Henry said immediately. "Why didn't you play polo last week?"

Andrew stiffened. Then he reached for the tequila bottle, taking two long tugs straight from the bottle. He wiped his mouth.

"Next."

Louise blinked. "Um. Okay." She pursed her lips, clearly thinking. "What's the deal with Eleanora? Why do you want her back so badly?"

Andrew sighed. He took another long drink from the tequila bottle, wincing slightly this time. He turned to face Ophelia.

"Go on, then," he said. "Fire away."

She nibbled her lip. "What were those papers you wouldn't show me? The ones in Lady Windermere's café?"

Andrew's mouth quirked, almost as if he was sharing a private joke with himself. He raised the bottle in a mock toast.

"Cheers."