Admittedly, Oliver hadn't been planning to add "committing arson" and "manhandling a young teenage girl" to his list of activities this evening, but hey — life was full of surprises.

He dragged Tess away from the blaze, guiding her to a more secluded part of the restaurant. Thankfully, she didn't put up much of a fight. In fact, Oliver was beginning to grow increasingly concerned by the glazed look in her eyes; in his experience, it usually came right before the tears or the shouting.

"Look," Oliver said, lowering his voice. "I know you must have a lot of questions—"

"Oliver Hogarth." Tess's eyes were shiny. "Oh, my god. I can't believe it." She stared at the hand on her shoulder. "Oliver Hogarth is touching me!"

"Yes. Right. Good. Anyway—"

"You're a lot taller than I thought you'd be."

"Cheers," he muttered. "But what I'm trying to say is—"

"And you look great brunette."

"Tess!" he hissed, exasperated.

To her credit, Tess fell silent immediately. She seemed to be in shock. Oliver glanced at where his bodyguard Charles had joined the fray, dumping glasses of water over the blaze. Next to him, Alicia was trying desperately to beat out the flames with a cloth napkin, and Oliver's heartbeat sped up.

"Sorry," he said quietly. "It's just that Alicia doesn't know who I am, and I'd like to keep it that way. For now, at least."

Tess stared at him. "She doesn't?"

"No."

"She thinks you're just a regular person?"

"Correct."

Tess had the audacity to snort. "That sounds like Leese, actually." She shook her head. "God, she can be such a fu—" She caught herself, glancing at Oliver nervously. "Er, a muppet. A real muppet, sometimes."

He smirked. "Agreed."

Tess tilted her head slightly to the left, in an almost uncanny imitation of her sister. Oliver swallowed nervously. He had seen that look in Alicia's eyes, too; it usually came right before she stole a chip off his plate.

"And what's in it for me?"

He blinked. "Pardon?"

"Well, I'm not keeping quiet for free," Tess said, as if this should be obvious. "So what are you offering?" She crossed her arms. "Autographed merchandise? Free CDs?"

Oliver stared at her. "Good lord, you're serious."

"Dead serious."

"Fine," he grunted. "Both."

"And I want to be backstage at your next concert."

"Done."

"And I want Rory's right shoe," Tess added. "The white pair of trainers that he was wearing around London." She scrunched up her nose. "I'm sick of Rachel banging on about the left one; it's the talk of the school."

Oliver stared at her. He had no idea what the hell Tess was on about, but he would have promised to pluck the moon from the sky, if it kept her quiet. He shrugged. "Sure. I'll get it from him."

"And I want a date with Theo."

"I—what?"

"Kidding." Tess grinned. "I just wanted to see how far you'd go." She patted his shoulder, suddenly unnervingly calm. "Great doing business with you, Oliver."

They moved back towards the table. All of the flames had been extinguished now, leaving behind a gaggle of alarmed waiters and a steady plume of grey smoke. Oliver was relieved to see that some of the dishes had survived. He would still quietly make a donation to the restaurant, of course, but at least they wouldn't be out too much money.

"I don't understand," Alicia said. "Everything was fine." She crouched down to examine the offending candle. "How did it get knocked over?"

"I don't know." Oliver shrugged. "Must have been the wind."

"But we're indoors."

"How exciting." Tess smiled sweetly. "It's a mystery for the ages." She took a seat, cracking open a menu. "Shall we eat? I'm absolutely starving."

Alicia let out a sigh of relief.

They were safely back in the car now, and — apart from the small fire — things had gone fabulously. Oliver had paid for champagne. Her mother had regaled him with stories of growing up in Mexico. Tess had been surprisingly polite. And at the end of the evening, Oliver had even given Alicia a chaste kiss on the cheek before getting into his own car.

"You see?" he murmured in her ear. "Nothing to worry about."

Alicia blew out a breath, flipping on the turn signal. Yes. Everybody was alive, some of them were drunk, and nobody was in tears. All around, a roaring success.

"So?" She took a left. "You like him, don't you?"

Her mother smiled. "He's very handsome, mija."

"So you said."

"And he's very sweet."

Alicia paused. She sensed there was a "but" coming, and she gripped the steering wheel. "Is there something wrong?"

"I think..." Her mother pursed her lips. "Are you sure he's being honest with you?"

"About?"

"I don't know. I get the sense that Oliver is hiding something."

From the backseat, Tess gave a hacking cough. Alicia frowned. She hoped her sister hadn't accidentally inhaled a lungful of smoke at the restaurant; it would make her drive back to London tomorrow very uncomfortable.

"You're paranoid, Mum," Alicia sighed. "After what happened earlier this year..." She kept her eyes fixed on the dark road, curving like a serpent. "I mean, it makes sense that you don't trust Oliver. I didn't either, at first."

"But you'll ask him?"

"Maybe."

"Promise you will."

"And say what?" Alicia asked, exasperated. "Hi, Oliver, lovely weather today; anyway, I was just wondering if you've been keeping a massive secret from me all along?" She took a sharp right. "I'll sound ridiculous."

"But you'll look even more foolish if I'm right."

"Mamá!"

Her mother looked at her in surprise. Alicia drummed her fingers on the wheel, her heart racing. She never called her mother that; at least, she hadn't since she was six years old, terrified of the dark and the laundry machine. She pursed her lips.

"Oliver's a good person," she said. "Trust me."

Her mother softened. "Good people can tell lies too, mija, if they're desperate enough. You'd do well to remember that."

Alicia stared straight ahead. "We see differently on that, I think."

She flipped on the radio. They didn't speak for the rest of the drive home.

Alicia jogged down to the Old Course, a score card, water bottle and pencil tucked under one arm. She was in a better mood this morning; firstly, because her mother and sister had left this morning after a much more civil brunch involving French toast, and secondly, because Mary had rung her this morning with news.

"There's a very important client." The Irish woman's voice was clipped. "And he's requesting you specifically as a caddy."

"He is?"

"Be there at eleven."

So here Alicia was, at 10:55, bounding past hungover students and metal giants that would transform into stands for the Links next week. The sea was a dull roar today, battering against black rocks. She took a left, hurrying down the steps to the course.

Maybe it was that that new Australian bloke, Alicia mused. Or maybe it was the famous Brett Whitaker, finally recovered from his arm surgery. She had caddied for him once, years ago, although she doubted that he'd remember. Or maybe—

Alicia's eyes caught on a figure, and she groaned.

"Oh, come on, sugarplum." Antony McIntosh grinned. "You were so excited to see me, the first time that we met."

"That was before I knew you."

"Exactly." He set his clubs down on the ground. "With my sparkling personality, you must find me downright irresistible."

She raised a hand to the wind, judging the direction. "Seriously, McIntosh, don't you already have a caddy?"

"He's out, I'm afraid. Back injury."

Alicia winced in sympathy. Caddies did more than carry bags; they studied your playing style, choosing the best clubs for each swing. It wasn't ideal to lose one just a week before one of the biggest tournaments in the world.

"I'm sorry."

"Thanks," Antony grunted. "As you English people say, keep calm and carry on though, eh?"

She offered him a driver. "I'm not sure anyone actually says that."

"Well. The idea's there."

Antony squared up to the hole, whacking a lovely shot straight down the fairway. He really was a beautiful player, Alicia mused. He golfed in cursive, long and loping shots, that arced through the air before settling lazily on the grass. It was the kind of thing that couldn't be taught, and therefore the kind of thing that everyone envied.

"Nice." She shifted his bags. "Shall we go?"

They continued in much the same pattern: Alicia would give him a club, Antony would place a beautiful shot, and they would move on. It was only when they reached the thirteenth fairway that they had their first disagreement.

Alicia squinted after his ball, shielding her eyes against the sun. "You've landed in The Coffins, mate."

"Shit."

"My thoughts exactly."

They trekked towards the sand traps; there were three of them, side-by-side, cozy as peas in a pod. Antony had landed in the farthest one to the left.

"You can still get on the green in two," Alicia mused, tilting her head. "Maybe one, if you're lucky. Here." She passed him a club. "Use this."

Antony stared at her. "The lob wedge?"

"Yeah."

"But I always use my sand wedge."

"Not for these." Alicia shook her head. "It's too deep. Hit down hard with the lob wedge or you'll never get out."

"But I—"

"Trust me, Antony. I know these bunkers."

He arched an eyebrow. Nevertheless, Antony took the club, positioning himself in the sand trap. He swung down, hard. A cloud of sand rose up, hanging like ash in the air, and then Antony's ball rose from its granular grave, revivifying safely on the green. Antony stared at the club in his hands.

"Well, I'll be damned."

She smirked. "You didn't believe me, did you?"

"You're good, sugarplum." He handed her back the club. "Much too good to spend the rest of your life dragging someone else's golf clubs around."

"Thanks."

"Have you thought more about the Junior Ladies Open?"

Alicia paused, the golf club hovering over the bag. Well, yes, actually, she had — every second of every day. But the end result was unchanged, she thought bitterly, stuffing his club into a pocket. She couldn't risk her name and location being posted anywhere.

Not when Greg could see it.

She shrugged. "I'm still deciding."

"Well, sign-up for qualifiers closes soon." Antony nudged her. "Don't take too long deciding, alright?"

Oliver stood at the window, resting a hand on the glass. Below him, the Old Course was fuzzy and green as new spring buds. Two figures were sitting on the stone steps, sharing a packet of crisps. He watched as the girl with a dark ponytail tipped her head back, laughing uproariously at something. Her white Oasis cap seemed to glow in the evening light.

Alicia.

Oliver's heart lurched. Was this creepy? Yes.

Was he planning to stop? No; no, he wasn't.

Oliver sighed. He wanted to remember her like this, just in case: grinning from ear-to-ear, munching on crisps. She was like a bolt of lightning, so strong and bright that you couldn't help but look, even if it blinded you. If he could, he would keep her like this forever.

But after the Tess incident...

Well, Oliver had to tell Alicia the truth about who he was. Now. Today. Before someone else told her first. And he wasn't sure how well received it was going to be.

Oliver pulled out his phone, punching a button. He watched as Alicia took out her phone, smiling at the display screen. She pressed it to her ear.

"Hi, Hip-Hop King."

"Cute ponytail," he said. "I'm not sure about the Oasis cap, though."

Alicia jumped up immediately, whirling around. Oliver could see the moment that she put it together; her eyes darted up to his window. "Has anyone ever told you that spying on people is wrong?"

"I did have that thought."

"Is Hogarth creeping on us?" Antony's voice drifted up from the background. "Tell the dumbass to come down here."

Alicia covered the speaker, hissing something that Oliver couldn't hear. Antony chuckled. He watched as Antony flicked a crisp at her, and a stab of something pierced his heart. Not envy, exactly — more of a bittersweet sadness. Oliver wished that things could be that easy between them; in that moment, he wished that he wasn't who he was.

Oliver swallowed. "Listen, do you want to come up here for a minute? There's something I want to discuss with you."

Her smile faded. "Sounds serious."

"It might be."

"Okay." She glanced up. "I'm on my way; I'll see you in five."

They hung up the phone. Oliver crossed to the sofa, fluffing a pillow. Then he fluffed the other one. He could feel his pulse racing, and he almost jumped out of his skin when someone knocked on the door.

"Christ, Leese." Oliver yanked it open. "Did you jog all the way—?"

He froze.

"Hello, Ols." Rory grinned at him. "Good surprise, then?"

A/N: Ooh more drama!!

What did everyone think of Tess and Oliver's interaction? Will she manage to stay quiet until Oliver tells Alicia the truth?

Affectionately,

J.K.