"L. Lee Lowe - Mortal Ghost" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lowe L Lee)

wretched temper. Finn's always warning me about it.'

Jesse wasn't accustomed to people who apologised and meant it (or who apologised at all). He wondered if
she expected some sort of apology in return. She wouldn't get one, not when he had nothing to be sorry for.
He'd stopped telling people what they wanted to hear a long time ago. But he couldn't help returning the smile
before mopping his face with his forearm, then his T-shirt, briefly revealing ribs and belly-button, a hint of
golden down.

'About that boy --' he began.

Lifting her eyes, Sarah said with a return to her old tone, 'You were dead wrong, you know.'

'And you probably stick your nose in whenever some geeky little kid's being bullied at school!'

'What else? Bullying's foul.'

Jesse suppressed a sigh. 'Can we get some water to drink?'

She nodded and reached out to touch his arm, but he swayed back out of reach. Sarah bit her lip.

'There's a good café nearby,' she said. 'I go there sometimes with a friend. Her parents own this gallery.'

Jesse's face reddened. 'I haven't got any money.'

'I'll pay.'

'I don't want your charity!'

She turned on her heels, and without waiting to see if he followed, swiftly walked away. Head held high, the
line of her back reprimanded him.
Chapter 4 25

Chapter 4
'Here. You've been dying for a cigarette, haven't you?' Sarah asked, laying a packet and some matches in front
of Jesse.

'Thanks but no thanks,' he said. 'Don't buy me stuff.'

'Let's get one thing straight,' Sarah said, taking her seat again. 'I don't feel sorry for you. And I don't want or
need your gratitude. Nor do I have to buy my friendships.'

The café was air-conditioned, and its wooden furniture and terracotta floor and colour scheme, all browns and
blacks and creams, told Jesse it had been decorated by someone who read the right magazines. Even the
names on the menu had been decorated: espresso macchiato, iced caffè latte, chai crème. Sarah had chosen a
milkshake with a frothy description, but Jesse, a small plain coke.

He pushed the cigarettes across the table to Sarah.

'If you're trying to prove a point, it's wasted on me,' she said. 'I'm not impressed by grand gestures, and
anyway, they're just some fags. Mates help each other out when they're skint.'