Chapter 23
BEN
Magic. That’s what Flo said. I thought back to the times when this place felt like magic to me when I was little.
And I remembered movie nights outside after long days by the pool.
Uncle Lorenzo would give us all a giant bucket of popcorn with red Spanish liquorice sweets, drag all the furniture outside, project The Sound of Music onto a sheet and tell us that he was going to turn us into a family singing act and he’d drive the tour bus.
Unfortunately, that plan got shelved when he heard us sing.
But I always remember how watching a film outside felt like the most luxurious experience, the way he’d borrow speakers from his DJ friend and have the sound booming around as we sank into the bean bags, counting stars in the night sky – that was a little bit of magic.
It seemed like a calm, restorative way to end day three of this retreat.
And the inspiration seems to have worked.
We’ve eaten a hearty dinner alfresco and you can still smell the sweet garlic from the crispy chicken; the wine has flowed, a lot of it in Zara’s direction.
Flo was right about the tart – it was, in Jess’s words, ‘healing parts of her soul’.
Now we’re watching Toy Story which at first I thought they would find infantile but there’s something wonderful about being an adult and watching a cartoon sitting barefoot on a big cushion with a bowl of M it’s been a good way to iron out the energy that overtook us before. Like having a date with chaperones.
I think back to this morning and the thought of her is intoxicating, the scent of her skin, the taste of her, the softness of her curves, and how we fit together, almost perfectly.
I don’t want her to think she was a fling.
That what we shared was a one-off moment of lust. I want to show her that I’m decent.
I want to really get to know her. This evening, I’ve found out she’s a listener, someone who doesn’t react to anecdotes with her own, like she has to outdo other people.
Her sense of humour is super dry, but there’s a way she raises Jess up; validates Zara’s feelings; and eats the chicken with her fingers, licking the salt and oil from them.
I have no idea what she sees. I hope she likes it all.
I hope I’m not a holiday fling. Sitting next to her now on the bean bags, occasionally she brushes against my fingers: the smallest of touches that lets me know she’s there.
I like looking over to her sometimes and seeing her full-beam smile when Buzz says something ridiculous, or The Potato Heads have a fight, and the lights reflect on her skin. Like they did in that hut.
‘I’m getting to the drunk stage now where Woody is looking hot to me,’ Zara says, the wine taking full effect.
‘Babe, he’s super skinny. It’d be like shagging a rake,’ Jess says, roaring with laughter on her bean bag, a handful of freshly roasted almonds in her hand. ‘Plus, his jeans are super skinny. We know Woody ain’t packing.’
Chloe gives a throaty laugh, turning to look at me.
You are very sexy when you laugh, Chloe. I reach out and brush her fingers again, almost desperate to touch her as I pass her a bowl of popcorn. She takes a few buttery kernels and smiles. I have no idea how to play this. For now, just being next to her is good. It’s more than good.
‘More wine?’ I ask everyone. They all nod.
‘Might you need a hand?’ Chloe asks.
‘Always,’ I say casually.
I see Jess raise her eyebrows at Zara and I fear we’re not being completely subtle.
But I put out my hands to help Chloe get off the bean bag and pull her up so she’s close to me.
She smiles and we head into the kitchen, keeping our distance.
As soon as we’re out of sight, I back her on to a kitchen counter and lift her up on to it, pushing against her slowly, almost desperate to be close to her.
‘Too much?’ I whisper breathily.
Her face barely touches mine, her eyes crinkle with a smile. ‘Not at all. Hi.’
‘Hi.’
She kisses me gently, gliding her tongue along my bottom lip. My hands reach for the curve of her thighs. ‘This could get really, really messy,’ she murmurs. ‘We’re supposed to be getting wine.’
‘Yes,’ I say, kissing her cheek where it meets her jawline. ‘I’ll say I went down to the cellar.’
‘There’s a cellar here?’ she asks, moaning.
‘No, there isn’t,’ I reply, grinning, and she laughs.
I put a hand to her cheek and look into her eyes for a moment.
There is something about Chloe that takes me out of myself.
Maybe it started with coming out here to Ibiza, being somewhere else, but she’s woken something inside me: hunger, excitement.
I feel alive, connected, living loudly. I think back to Uncle Lorenzo’s letter when he left me this place.
I kiss her again, slowly. ‘Tonight, do you want to come to my cottage?’ I ask her, slightly nervous in case she thinks I’m crossing a line.
‘I guess if you came to my room the others may hear?’ she says.
‘They may hear you. I’m pretty certain of it,’ I tell her.
I have to admit, I surprise myself with that line but I adore her reaction, the way she bites her lip and her mouth curls into a smile.
She reaches down and straight into my shorts, wrapping her hand around the length of my cock.
My body tenses, I rise to the tips of my toes and lean forward into her.
‘I won’t be able to deliver wine with a great big raging hard-on,’ I say as she moves her hand up and down. ‘Keep doing that.’
Chloe runs her tongue on the underside of my neck and I place an arm on the counter to control myself.
‘I’d like to contest the fact that I’ll be making all the noise,’ she says, a cheeky glint to her eye. She reaches down, her fingers brushing my balls and I laugh. ‘He’s ticklish?’
‘I’m just…’ She moves her hand up and down again. ‘Thinking of nut milk…’
And with that she bursts into giggles, the sexual tension diluted but replaced by something much better.
‘WHERE’S OUR WINE?’ a drunken voice calls from the garden.
‘I’ll see you in the cottage later,’ she whispers. ‘If the invite still stands.’
‘It will be standing,’ I say.
Chloe laughs, topping up a bowl with more popcorn, looking over her shoulder at me when suddenly we hear a phone ringing.
‘PHONE IN THE CINEMA! THROW THEM OUT!’ I hear Zara joke from the garden. It’s definitely not mine but I see Chloe jump a little, realising it’s hers.
‘Oh shit, I’m so sorry! I’m terrible!’ Chloe runs into the garden to retrieve her phone from the dining table but as she does, her face freezes.
I walk over to her, putting a hand to her shoulder to make sure she’s OK.
I glance over and see that the caller is Julian.
The awful boss. ‘I’m so sorry I have to take this.
It won’t take long,’ she says. She scurries past me and makes her way to the light of the kitchen.
‘Wait, Julian… Hold up… Hello to you too. It’s nearly nine here in Spain? Why are you shouting at me?’
Her voice travels and I glance over to where the film is playing to see Jess turning to find out what’s happening. I watch Chloe pace the tiles furiously, not even looking at me.
‘I am on holiday. If I’m on holiday, I shouldn’t be doing anything. I deserve this break,’ she says into her phone.
The worst thing is how much her tone has changed in just a few minutes. I pretend to busy myself in the kitchen so I’m nearby but not being too intrusive.
‘Well, I can’t get to any of that over the next week. I’m sorry you lost that tender… How is it my fault that the deadline was yesterday?’
Secretly, I like how she’s standing up for herself, but there’s a shudder in her voice that I can’t quite stand.
‘Nancy only sent me those drawings yesterday. Even if I did look at them, I didn’t have the software to correct them properly… I don’t have access to a printer. I’m not staying in a hotel, there is no business centre… I’m in a villa.’
I pour her a drink and slide it across the counter. She doesn’t touch it.
‘What? No. You can’t do that. How? I don’t think you can do that,’ she says pointedly.
‘It’s totally unreasonable… How? But… Julian.
’ The tremble paralyses Chloe’s face; she gazes downwards, sad that she can no longer take this fight on.
She exhales rapidly, taking the phone from her ear and holding it to her chest as the call comes to an abrupt end.
‘Chloe,’ I say, unsure whether to come over to her. ‘You OK?’
She shakes her head, tears filling her eyes. Her jaw is clenched, unable to get the words out. ‘I’ve just been fired.’