watching her get dressed for a night out with Jamie’s parents, when her phone rang.
“Answer it,” she said. She was trying to get into a posh-looking dress and failing miserably. I looked at the screen.
“It’s Xander,” I said. “Why’s he phoning you?”
I swiped the screen and put it on speakerphone, holding it up to Esme’s face as she twisted round and tried to get her arm through the sleeve.
“Hello,” she shouted.
“Howarrya,” Xander drawled. Esme sat down, suddenly, on her bed, the back of her dress gaping. I eyed her suspiciously. She could deny it all she wanted, but Xander definitely had an effect on her.
“I’m stuck in my dress,” she panted. ‘I can’t reach the zip and there’s no one to help me.” She looked pointedly at me and I stuck my tongue out at her.
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