From the first time he’d heard that honeyed voice, with its soft North-East inflections, Aran had wanted to ask Katie out.
Half hidden by a coat stand, he’d craned his long neck in the direction of the hallway, to see that the owner of the voice was tall and copper-haired, moving in the direction of the accounts department.
‘What’s the worst that can happen?’ James said, during one of their regular Friday pub lunches. ‘You’ve been lusting from afar for three months. Just go for it – you’ve got nothing to lose.’
Aran looked at his friend’s earnest, handsome friend…
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