Excerpt: Subtle Gifts

Suddenly she couldn’t out of the coach fast enough. Not only was he a walking cliche, but he reminded her too much of Jem and the gang. She stumbled down the steps and onto concrete. Lights streamed down from a cafe and she sighed in relief. She didn’t like coffee, but maybe she could get something else. She pulled out her wallet and looked at it. A scrunched up fiver muttered darkly to itself in the corner. Technically, it should have been for emergencies, but she was thirsty now. And it was amazing how far she could spread out five pounds.
“Coming in?” Somehow, the boy was ahead of her. He held out the door.
Her desire for hot chocolate was suddenly squashed. “No, thanks.”
He shrugged and closed the door behind him. I never asked him his name, she thought. Instead of turning back to the coach, she disappeared down a side alley. The smell of roasted coffee beans wafted down from an air vent. As soon as she was sure that she was alone, she closed her eyes.
“Ow, ow,” she whimpered.
Her fingertips massaged her temples frantically, but she couldn’t escape the pain. Whoever that boy was, he spelt out bad news. In that instant in the coach, she’d tried to read him, and all she got was black noise, a silence so wrong she’d had to leave. It wouldn’t go away, either. Jem had been less painful, but still agony to tune into, so she hadn’t. She’d been stupid. She’d ignored it, like a good girlfriend did. The smart girlfriend would have dumped him and moved across to Scotland.