Did he think that I was hinting?

“I know,” I snapped. “I wasn’t asking you to.” Why was this making me so stressed?

“I also know,” he said just as quickly.

“I know you know.” I sounded like I was having an argument with Naomi. Time to move things on. “Have you seen Elle’s smashing her London challenge?” I got my phone out and showed him her story with a punk in Camden (extra likes for the baubles on their spiky hair). “She’s up to over eleven thousand new followers. I really think she’s going to win.” Although it wasn’t all good news. I’d seen tooblessed’s latest work. “But sheesh, some of those comments… How rude are some people?”

Nick’s eyebrows dropped. “What comments?”

“Oh, who knows? Just a random who doesn’t want her to win, I guess.”

But Nick was already on his phone, scrolling though Elle’s grid. The more he saw, the quieter he got. “And what exactly will she win?”

Weird that Elle hadn’t told him—but there must be a reason, so I kept details light. “Nothing except getting into Dove’s @thingsthepeakgirlsdo crew. It’s a new thing they’re doing. Oh”—I finished my drink—“and whoever loses has to delete their account.”

“This isn’t good,” is all he said as he looked through.

“I know. Full-on, right? Dove is an evil genius!” But he didn’t answer. “What do you, errr, think of her? Of Dove?” I really wanted his opinion. Elle was clearly a fan, but I really hadn’t gotten the best impression.

“Honestly?” Nick put his phone down and rubbed his face with his hands, like he was trying to wash something off. “It’s a weird one… My ex used to be obsessed with her, and then we move, and boom, we’re decorating her house, and now she’s somehow gotten my sister to fly to the other side of the world.” He sighed. “And, if it’s okay me saying this, I really can’t see the appeal. She’s always seemed a little…” But he didn’t finish. And I didn’t fill in with mean, which is where I thought he might be heading. “So you really think Elle’s doing okay?”

“Uh-huh. I reckon she’ll win.” I’d just checked, and Dove had posted an update telling the others it was now or never to catch her. “Unless @CallMeClaraT does something preeee-tty spectacular.”

Nick almost broke the table, he slammed his drink down so hard. “Sorry, what?” He opened his phone back up. “This cannot be happening,” is all he said but definitely to himself, not to me, as he clicked on the FestiveFifteen hashtag. “When is Elle back at your place?”

“Soonish, I think? It’s just a day trip.”