The Trouble with Love by Cathy Cole Page A

in her head. The outfit was wrong. She couldn’t do this.
    She turned back. Ran home. Rushed through the front door and up the stairs. She stared hard at her reflection. A white, pinched face with anxious hazel eyes looked back at her.
    You are unique, Polly Nelson , she thought, willing herself to believe it. Be proud of who you are.
    This time she made it almost to the end of the road before she could feel that nagging little voice again.She looked awful. Almost in tears, Polly started back towards her house. She forced herself to stop on the pavement and breathe. Her legs were trembling with nerves. Her heart was racing.
    What’s more important? she asked herself. Your stupid outfit or missing that boat?
    She checked her watch and groaned. She had exactly seven minutes before she got left behind. Somehow, she found the strength to start running down the hill towards the harbour.
    The sun gleamed on the water. Boats were sailing away from the dock, their sails full and billowing. Memories of Sam pierced her like arrows. She had a stitch in her side, and she stopped for a moment to catch her breath.
    Great look, Polly, she told herself wryly. Red-faced and sweating.
    She could hear someone shouting her name.
    â€œPolly!” Rhi was waving her arms madly from the prow of a white boat that was starting to move, her cloud of dark hair pulled back from her head. “ RUN! ”
    Panicking for real now, Polly put on a burst of speed. As she reached the edge of the water, she stared with wide fearful eyes at the widening gap between the boat and the jetty, the calls and shouts from her friends. . .
    She jumped.

ELEVEN
    Water glinted under her feet. Music was pumping through the air, and she could hear the insistent chatter of a party. Polly just had time to remember what had happened the last time she had tried to jump aboard a boat when a pair of strong arms caught her round the waist.
    â€œWelcome aboard, Oh Incredible Flying Girl,” Ollie shouted over the music, grinning down at her. “Better late than never.”
    Polly’s whole body went rigid. Ollie was wearing a tight blue hoodie that emphasized his strong chest and brought out the colour in his eyes. She could feel every muscle in his back as she held him, and the warmth of his palms as they pressed against her. Blood roared in her ears. She knew she should let go, but she didn’t seem able to. For what felt like an age, she couldn’t tear her eyes or her arms away.
    â€œNo need to smother me, thanks,” Ollie added, his arms still holding her up off the deck.
    Dimly Polly sensed Eve lounging at the side of the boat in a long green dress and jewelled sandals, watching them as intently as a cat might watch a mouse. With a lurch of horror, Polly realized she had let her guard down. Every dream she had ever had about Ollie – every heartbeat felt, every tear shed and every swell of emotion experienced – was written all over her face. And now Eve knew.
    She pushed at Ollie’s arms, her face flaming scarlet. “You can put me down now,” she muttered. “I’m not a football.”
    There was a flash of something in his eyes that reminded Polly of the hurt she’d seen when she’d compared his brain to a marshmallow.
    â€œWhatever,” he said, putting her down abruptly on the shining wooden boards. “Nice curtain, by the way,” he added, sweeping his eyes over her dress. “Very you. Is the rest of you double-glazed?”
    Polly felt winded with hurt. “You probably can’t even spell that,” she managed. “How does it feel to have nothing between your ears but a gentle breeze?”
    She wrenched herself away from his hands, which were still on her shoulders. As she did so, she heard the telltale sound of ripping fabric. Her collar hung at an awkward angle down the front of her dress. Ollie had torn it.
    She ran blindly for the cabin, her hand pressed against