Free The First Last Kiss by Ali Harris Page A

everything works out.’
    I prod him across the table. ‘So what’s your favourite romcom then?’
    He answers instantly. ‘ Top Gun , obviously. Tom Cruise is the nuts . . . ’
    I roll my eyes and he hurriedly adds: ‘but you name them, I’ve watched ’em all. When Harry Met Sally, Pretty Woman, Sleepless in Seattle . What about you? What’s your favourite?’
    I gaze at him unflinchingly. ‘None of them, I don’t believe in all that love stuff.’
    ‘Really?’ He smiles. ‘I don’t reckon you can knock it till you’ve tried it,’ he murmurs.
    I look down and sip my Coke loudly. ‘I want a career instead of being stuck at home being someone’s wife. Cleaning up after someone doesn’t seem like much of a happy ending to me.’
    ‘Whooo,’ Ryan whistles. ‘That’s the most cynical thing I’ve ever heard! You remind me of someone from a film . . . ’ He snaps his fingers. ‘Harry. That’s it! You’re just like Harry Burns!’
    ‘I am so not.’
    ‘Are too.’
    ‘Am not.’
    ‘You only think you’re not, Molly.’
    ‘I do not.’
    ‘Do too . . . Ha!’ He snaps his fingers and points at me and I look at him quizzically.
    ‘You’re smirking. Why are you smirking?’
    ‘Because I knew you liked romcoms too.’
    ‘I do no—’
    He is still smirking and I realize he’s got something on me. ‘Then why are we re-enacting a scene from When Harry Met Sally right now?’ he says triumphantly, banging his hand on the table and pointing at me. I go to protest my innocence. ‘Harry,’ he says warningly, the grin still evident on his face, ‘I’ve got you sussed. I reckon your dislike of romcoms is as fake as those glasses you wear.’ He winks at me and I shut my mouth.
    We’re walking through the town and I keep pausing to take snaps of the glistening reflections of shops in the puddles – and the people that are passing them. I love how it makes the town look like it is floating on water, like a less romantic version of Venice. I imagine the credit in an art gallery ‘Southend In the Sea’ by Molly Carter. Ryan is waiting patiently beside me.
    ‘So I guess I don’t need to ask what career you want then,’ he laughs, folding his arms and tipping his head to one side.
    I nod, lift my camera up, focus it and quickly take several shots of his face, doing my best to capture the softness of his expression, the way his blond hair perfectly frames his face, the intensity of his blue eyes and those soft, plump lips . . .
    ‘You could sell photos of me when I’m a famous footballer.’
    I raise an eyebrow, just like Casey taught me to do. ‘’Course I could,’ I say dryly. ‘I forgot I’m in the presence of the next Gary Lineker .’
    He grins and jogs on the spot. ‘First step, The Shrimpers, then England!’ He leans closer to me and adds, ‘And I’m much better looking than Gary Lineker, right?’
    I roll my eyes. ‘Vanity will get you nowhere, my friend.’
    He turns.
    ‘So what will get me somewhere then, Molly?’
    I lift my camera to cover my face and start snapping his, capturing a montage of shots of him sweeping his hair out of his eyes. He leans forward so his features fill my frame and I snap that too. It is the closest thing to kissing him I can imagine.
    ‘I thought you said you didn’t take photos of things you weren’t interested in?’ He laughs.
    I peer out from behind the viewfinder and find myself smiling. ‘I don’t.’
    Casey and I are standing outside Leigh-on-Sea’s premier drinking establishment, The Grand, shivering with nerves and cold. She’s wearing a white embroidered bra-top that’s barely containing her curves, a black ribbon choker and tight blue hot pants that she’s sewn some patches on to. And she’s wearing lace-up, knee-length boots. She’s pulled her dark hair off her face in a little quiff and her make-up is all bronze eyes and cheeks and deep-red lips. Aside from the mouthful of metal and the glasses, I think she looks properly