Chapter 29
Chapter Twenty-Nine
WILL
Day Five
My thudding heart tells me that Chill Will has drowned at sea. Maybe the siren took him. He’s gone, leaving me sweating in the bathroom of my hotel, staring at my reflection and criticising what looks back at me.
Somewhere between that boat ride and yesterday, my skin has burnt, evidence of a typical Brit who can’t go out in any sunlight, because his pasty skin is used to grey skies. I thought I’d lathered up enough on the boat, but clearly not. My unruly hair won’t stay neat.
This is what Sam wanted to kiss yesterday?
All night, all morning, I thought of what we’ve done.
The playful kisses, how slightly strange they felt, and yet how they made me crave more.
Every time I close my eyes, I imagine Sam near me again.
Like a teenager I’ve found myself puckering up as if he might materialise through thought alone and kiss me again.
In the late and early hours, I considered texting Sam, inviting him over. That’s what friends do. But I chickened out every time.
All of this is for research.
Inviting him over would be for research.
These thoughts I’m having? Research.
Research, research, fucking research.
I’m about to leave my apartment when Sam texts.
What’s your plan today?
Well, wouldn’t he like to know?
Today is all about trying something new.
Alice said I should relax and have fun. And why stop at kissing my old best friend for research purposes?
Nose to the air, I stroll to the outdoor swimming pool, my cute tote bag depicting a sleeping Snorlax surrounded by berries, hanging off my left shoulder. Wearing dark sunglasses, I scan the sunbeds, seeing willies and foofs, nips and tits.
This is absolutely fine.
I text Sam.
Today’s the day I brave this whole nudism thing.
The tote bag slips from my shoulder and I huff it back into place, my flip-flopped feet flipping and flopping off the hot tiled floor. A man swims buck naked alongside me and I wish he had some tact and swim in the opposite direction.
A tanned woman lathers her chest with fresh suntan lotion.
An elderly man stretches out his legs, revealing wrinkled balls.
God, they hang low. ‘Rude Boy’ by Rihanna plays over the sound system, a song I must immediately remove from my playlist because it will forever be associated with this moment.
Shame I’m not there.
He’s sent one of those tongue out winking emojis.
I’ll send pics.
I absolutely will not send pics.
I’m walking aimlessly, tempted to cross this area and exit through another door and return to the indoors, but I’m sure even if I did that I would be presented with the same thing.
If you can’t beat them, join them.
Taking a breath, I look around again, seeing an empty sunbed tucked away in the corner, cast in shade by a parasol and planted palm trees. Idyllic, even if there are naked people either side of the yellow and white striped bed.
I can go there and I can lay out on my bed and I can remove one article of clothing slowly and eventually I will be naked too and I will be Chill Will again.
A hot breeze rushes over my skin, and I wipe the sweat from my forehead as I claim the bed as my own, rolling out my fluffy beach towel over the fabric. As I’m adjusting the height of the bed, someone claps their hands behind me.
At least I hope that’s what’s clapping together.
‘Oh-ho, look who has joined us.’
Turning, I gawp at Tim and Jemima, naked as ever. Both of them clutch a cocktail that has a pink and blue umbrella stabbed through a needlessly large wedge of orange. ‘Tim, Jemima.’ Why am I addressing their genitals? Look up! Look up! ‘How the devil are ya?’
Why did I say that? Why did I say it in an Irish accent?
I flop onto my bed, and it groans beneath me. I hesitate, afraid it might break, but so far, so good. The naked man in the pool turns, taking on another lap, and I get a glorious view of his arse hole as he kicks from the wall.
‘We’re reyt, my boy, we’re reyt,’ Tim says, thankfully taking the sunlounger that is furthest away from me. Jemima sits nearest, reaching for her book. ‘Haven’t seen you around here in some time.’
‘Oh, yeah, we must keep missing each other.’
‘Impossible,’ Tim says. ‘We’re here all day, aren’t we?’
Jemima’s smile is forced. I linger on her, this time her expression. Being at a nudist resort is exhausting. The constant thought of ‘keep eye contact’ runs through my head.
‘Well, I thought I’d come down and relax by the pool and…’
I groan, my eyes scanning my bag.
‘What is it?’
‘I forgot my book.’
‘Oh, don’t worry.’ Jemima reaches into a large beach bag, taking out a battered Jilly Cooper, and then an equally tired Jackie Collins novel, handing both to me. ‘You can keep those. First in the series. Are you a romance reader?’
The suggestive covers make me smirk. ‘I am. These are perfect.’
‘Like a bit of fantasy, meself,’ Tim says. ‘Perfect fodder for some role play.’
No, no, stop this earth and get me off right now.
‘Tim. I’ve got another of Jilly’s books in the room. Go fetch it.’
‘But—’
‘Please.’
I try not to look, but it’s like rubbernecking at the scene of a crash. Tim pitifully nods at Jemima, before stalking off in the direction of his room.
I lean back on my bed, the plastic creaking as I try and get comfortable. The ripple of the water as naked swimmers go by is oddly soothing, and the more I focus on my own lounger the easier I find this to be. There’s nothing scary about this. This is normal people lounging as nature intended.
I shuck off my T-shirt and consider removing my shorts. Everyone else is nude, no qualms. It’s odder that I’m here still dressed, really. Nobody is going to judge me, and if I get anxious about it, I’ve got a spare towel to cover myself if needs be.
Deep breaths.
Count to three.
With a fuck-it attitude, I pull off my shorts, just as the back of my sunlounger falls out from underneath me.
The floor becomes the sky as the sunlounger folds, plastic back support now over my head, my naked arse falling to the tiled floor, and oh my God, I can feel my dick flopping about the place.
The towel has bunched up, beneath me, so I can’t even snatch something to give myself any sense of modesty.
I can’t even move. It’s like I’ve fallen into a badger’s den.
I’m being eaten by my sunlounger!
There are footsteps, people talking, then the top half of the sunlounger is removed from me and the heat of the sun hits my skin again. Looking up, the world has come to a naked standstill, all eyes on me and my nude body.
‘You didn’t have it in the rivets properly,’ the receptionist Lydia, stark naked, says.