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along the far wall.
    A dive, Cameron had promised. The place was anything but. It was bright, shiny, cool, filled with men with more product in their hair than she had in her bathroom, and women wearing so much bling around their necks she wasn’t sure how they kept upright. While she’d been in so many seedy places in her time she could practically write a guide, Cameron it seemed was still very much a Kelly.
    She ruffled her hair, wished she’d washed it or put it up, or had a haircut in the past six months, and excused herself as she nudged a group of hot young things out of her way.
    Her hand was still delved deep into her hair when she saw him sitting at the head of a loud, rowdy table peopled by ex St Grellans students.
    Kids who’d been given sportscars for their sixteenth birthday while she’d taken on an after school job cleaning dishes at a diner. Kids who’d skipped class to shop but had still magically got into universities she’d worked her butt off to attend. Kids who hadn’t given her the time of day when, having been accepted to St Grellans, she’d so hoped she’d finally found a place where she might shine.
    Suddenly she couldn’t for the life of her remember what it had been about Cameron Kelly that had made her convince herself dinner was a good idea. To put on lip gloss. To walk through a cloud of perfume. To wear her nice underwear.
    She took a step backwards and landed upon soft flesh. A woman squealed. She turned to apologise, then glanced back at the table where several pairs of eyes were zeroed in on her chest. She wasn’t sure if they were collectively less impressed by her lack of top heaviness or the rainbow-coloured peace symbol splashed across her black T-shirt.
    But it wasn’t so much their eyes she was concerned about as Cameron’s. And she remembered why she’d said yes. He was standing, his eyes locked onto hers with a kind of unambiguous focus that was almost enough to send her hurtling towards him like an object falling from the sky.
    But not quite.
    He was beautiful. He was irreverent. He made her knees wobble in an entirely pleasant way. But she had no intention of going to a place where she had to perform cartwheels to feel remarkable. No man on the planet was worth that.
    She offered him a shrug by way of apology then backed into the crowd.
     
    Cameron’s backside hovered several inches off his chair as he watched Rosalind disappear into the crowd.
    His chair rocked, screeched, and he had to reach out to catch it lest it crash to the ground. His old schoolmate in the chair next to him raised an eyebrow in question.
    Cameron shook his head as he brought the chair back upright, and then made a beeline for the front door.
    He hit the pavement, looked right then left, and then saw her.In amongst the night owls in their barely-there attire, she stood out like a rare bird, striding down the city street in skinny jeans, flat shoes, a soft jacket nipped at her waist, a multi-coloured scarf dangling to her knees, her long, wavy hair swinging halfway down her back, everything about her loose and carefree. Unpretentious.
    And, just as before, having her within reach he felt as though for now the weight of the world could be someone else’s problem.
    He took off after her at a jog. ‘Rosalind!’
    When she didn’t turn, he grabbed her elbow.
    She stopped. Turned. A stubborn gleam lit her eyes before she glanced pointedly at where he still held her arm. But if he was the kind of guy who got scared off by a little defiance he wouldn’t be where he was today.
    ‘What’s with the hasty exit?’
    Her chin tilted skyward. ‘Would you believe, I suddenly realised I wasn’t hungry after all?’
    ‘Not even if you donged me on the head and hypnotised me before saying so.’
    She kept backing away. He kept following, the sounds of the bar fading behind him.
    It occurred to him that he didn’t usually have to work this hard to get a woman to eat with him. In fact, he’d never had to