Chapter Thirty-two – Andie
Chapter Thirty-two
ANDIE
I t’s taken me until our second-last day to accept Jack’s paddleboarding offer. I didn’t know what his plans were for the day beyond watching the sunrise, but I decided to try my luck.
Holiday hook-up rule number eight: Play it cool.
I’m sure texting your fling within a few hours of leaving his bed and asking if he can take you and your three girlfriends paddleboarding is the opposite of playing it cool.
Honestly? I can’t bring myself to worry. Slowly but surely my nerves around Jack are disappearing, replaced by a growing ease. He still makes my heart flutter, but he also has a way of making me feel incredibly safe.
He explicitly stated that his invitation was just for me, but given how last night’s group dinner party basically served as foreplay for us, I have a strong suspicion he’ll agree to my request. Twenty minutes later, I get a message back.
The pleasure would be all mine. See you at Moorings beach at 2 p.m. x
Five minutes pass and my phone buzzes again.
Free later tonight? x
Holiday hook-up rule number nine: Try to play it at least a little bit cool.
Mm. Let me think.
Yes. There’s a good chance that I am. x
I want to fast-forward to the moment when I’m back in his cosy cabin. Knowing we only have two nights left, I’m relieved we can skip all of the formalities and go straight to bed.
At 1.55 p.m., I’m sitting with the girls on the sand, slathered in sunscreen and with hats pulled over our ears, waiting for Jack. Taylor’s in her new fluoro sun visor from Charlie’s, which she has surprisingly embraced, declaring she’s in her ‘ugly-cool ’90s era’. She’s still in a very good mood, scraping her fingers through the sand and patting it down into neat mounds to form a sandcastle. As we wait for Jack, we all join in carving out little windows and doors and adorning it with shells.
I’m deep in concentration, digging a moat, when Lizzie screams. My head snaps up to see Jack stroking towards us, towing another board behind him, with Izzie sitting at the front of his board like a well-behaved pup, captaining the expedition.
It’s quite the sight, but it’s also super adorable.
Lizzie is still screeching as Jack glides onto shore. As he hops off the board, Izzie leaps into the water after him, then scampers up the sand.
‘You’re welcome for the lift,’ he calls, laughing as he shakes his head.
‘No! Get away, get away!’ Lizzie screams on a loop as Izzie races down the beach towards Moorings.
She finally calms down when Izzie disappears around the side of the house. ‘Oh, thank fuck,’ she breathes.
‘Apparently there was an incident at the house last night,’ I translate for Jack. My mind flashes with images of our Godzilla encounter – Jack’s shoulders bare and inviting while Izzie made herself comfy in our underwear. ‘Unfortunately, the dog door is no longer. Tom hammered it closed.’
I feel as though I’m delivering news of far greater significance than a simple DIY job. Judging by the pained look on Jack’s face, like a rusty nail has been hammered into his heart, it seems I haven’t overestimated how protective he is of Hannah’s house. Although, I’m sure his expression has more to do with a memory involving Clara than the obstacle now in the way of my next bacon-and-egg bap delivery. Now I’m even more curious about the exact nature of their past relationship, and when and why it ended.
‘Yeah, so just try getting into our fortress now, you little fucker!’ Lizzie cries.
‘I’m sure it’s reversible,’ I say hurriedly. ‘You can open it back up again in two days once we’re gone.’
Jack’s eyes darken to forest green.
‘Should we get this show on the road?’ I say, feeling an urgent need to rekindle the brightness in his eyes. ‘Or, should I say, this show on the river?’
Gah, that was awful, Andie.
Jack returns from wherever his mind has been wandering. ‘Yeah, let’s do it.’ He pulls the other board up on the sand, crushing our misshapen castle. ‘Whoops, sorry.’ He offers a lopsided grin.
Suddenly, I’m on the beach with little Jack whooping and hollering for joy as he dashes back to Hazel, a bucket brimming with water in hand. He accidentally splashes her, sending refreshing droplets scattering across her red halter-neck swimsuit. It’s easy to imagine him burying her in the sand, too.
Get a grip, Andie.
Now I’m the one lost to memories that I don’t own, and that likely are completely fabricated. I tune back into Jack’s voice.
‘I could only manage one extra board, so you’ll have to take turns,’ he’s saying.
We sit cross-legged on the sand like gold-star students, watching Jack’s lengthy demonstration. How to use the leash, how to ensure the paddle is facing the right way, how to hold the paddle, how to efficiently scoop the water, how to paddle with your core, how to stand up, how to fall off the board correctly, and so on and so on.
I’m content admiring Jack’s muscular arms expertly slicing the air with his paddle as he models good technique and explains that those in the know call stand-up paddleboarding, ‘SUPing’. I start daydreaming about tonight, when those same arms will be wrapped around me, but I’m impressed with the girls’ unwavering focus. It’s rare to see them sit so still; they didn’t do that even at school mass back in the day – actually, especially not at school mass. Perhaps it’s our shared competitive streak resurfacing. Lizzie competed at state level gymnastics, so I expect her to excel at SUPing, whereas I always struggled to stay upright on the balance beam.
‘You lucky thing,’ she hisses at me as Jack finishes the lesson.
So the eye candy has been fuelling the girls’ impressive attention span too.
Earlier, over a quiche Taylor made, I brought Lizzie and Grace up to speed on my cabin escapades. I’m grateful that so far, no one has been a fool in front of Jack about it.
‘Right. We have a double, and one on the board with me. Someone will need to wait on the beach,’ Jack announces.
Taylor springs to her feet and pulls me up with her, practically flinging me at Jack. ‘Take your girl. I’ll wait here.’
And there it is. I want to shrivel up and die right here, like a bluebottle on the sand.
‘Do you want to jump on with me, Andie?’ Jack asks.
A charge of electricity crackles between us as our eyes meet; our gaze feels like it holds a new, intimate depth.
‘Maybe you should take Taylor?’ I offer, albeit weakly.
Jack flashes me a stern look that very much says, not this shit again .
I turn to Taylor. ‘Since we’re on this trip for you, you should get first dibs.’
‘Girl, please. I’ll be perfectly fine right here.’ She gestures to the glorious sweep of sand, spreads out her towel and begins unbuttoning her tiny shorts. ‘I have serious tanning to attend to. You go spend time with your man.’
I squeeze my eyes shut as a wave of embarrassment washes over me.
Holiday hook-up rule number ten: Play it cool. Play it cool!!!
When I open my eyes, Jack is hovering next to me. He extends an arm. ‘Shall we?’
I accept his outstretched hand, and he pulls me in, hooking his other arm around my waist and dipping me for a kiss.
The girls cheer.
My cheeks turn pink, but I’m secretly delighted that he hasn’t changed his behaviour in front of my friends. It’s clear this is a continuation of last night – or rather, very early this morning. With our time together quickly running out, it’s nice not to have to hold back and instead embrace the delicious fun of each other’s company while we can.
Holiday hook-up rule number eleven: FUCK ALL THE RULES.
‘Alright,’ I say, newly energised. ‘Let’s go!’ I turn and sprint towards the water.
Grace and Lizzie have dragged their board into the river and are already a metre from the shore.
Jack chuckles as he catches up to me, our board snug under his arm. ‘It’s not a competition, Andie.’
It takes a second to find my centre of gravity, and Jack offers a hand to steady me until I’ve stopped wobbling. He’s at the back and I’m at the front. I’ve borrowed a printed wrap skirt from Lizzie to wear over my swimmers, and I’m conscious of the way it hugs my bum – and what that means for Jack’s view.
We paddle in tandem, effortlessly gliding in a perfect straight line. I feel a sense of satisfaction at my coordination until I realise that Jack is matching my strokes and is also steering us.
Grace and Lizzie have rocketed a few board lengths ahead.
‘Nice job!’ he calls out. ‘Make sure you stick to the shoreline.’
They raise their paddles in acknowledgement before plunging them back into the river and pulling further away.
I double the speed of my strokes, determined to make up ground. But instead of picking up pace, it feels like we’re slowing down, like driving with the handbrake on. Is the current that strong? Then I realise that I can no longer see the orange flash of Jack’s oar pulling through the water.
He’s stopped paddling.
Confused, I stop paddling too.
‘Let them go,’ he says. ‘I want you to myself.’ His voice is all gravel.
My knees instantly weaken, and the board wobbles underfoot. I don’t dare turn my head, not even an inch, to look at him.
‘Don’t worry, the water looks clear of jellies today, so it’ll only hurt our dignity if we end up in there,’ he reassures me. ‘Here, let me help.’ His hands slip around my waist, and he gently guides me around.
‘Small steps, ah, there you go.’ His expression is triumphant when I finally face him.
‘Okay. Now get on your knees,’ he instructs.
I stare at him, eyes wide.
Horror streaks across his face as it dawns on him. ‘Oh, shit, no, not that. I didn’t mean –’
I laugh, carefully manoeuvring myself down. ‘Are you sure?’ I purr teasingly, looking up at him through my lashes, my mouth just a fraction off target. I don’t know where this inner seductress has come from, but I like her.
The board rocks slightly as he squirms. ‘God, Andie,’ he groans. ‘Of course I’m not sure. It’s just that we’re out on open water.’
‘SUP sutra – that would give SUP yoga a run for its money,’ I joke.
‘That would be one way of putting this island on the map.’
‘I don’t imagine Bob would be thrilled.’
‘We’ll pass an island by-law – SUP sutra for everyone! Bob and Beryl are very welcome to partake,’ Jack declares.
We’re both laughing uncontrollably, our bodies and the board shaking like a high-magnitude earthquake. Thank goodness I’m no longer standing, although Jack still is.
‘Come down here,’ I say.
He folds himself down opposite me. ‘Hey,’ he says softly, studying my face like he’s counting my freckles.
‘Hey,’ I breathe, staring into his gorgeous sea-green eyes. They’re the first thing I noticed about him, and even with his sculpted chest in view, they’re still the first thing I’m drawn to.
I’ve become fascinated with eyes over the past decade, mainly because they became a cheat code for how Dad was doing: was he alert and with us, or somewhere else? They truly are the window to the soul, and Jack’s soul is soft, relaxed and twinkly.
‘I can’t wait for tonight,’ I say, my gaze travelling to the dark stubble on his upper lip.
‘Same,’ Jack says, leaning in. But instead of kissing me, he grabs my hand. ‘I thought we could take another boat ride?’
‘Sure. Sounds good,’ I murmur, although I was hoping to hop right back into his bed. I’m sure there’ll be plenty of time for that.
We stay seated, letting the current take us where it pleases. The breeze caresses our faces as we continue holding hands and drinking each other in.
It feels as though we’ve set sail in our own universe. The notion of being marooned and cut off from the rest of the world is like foreplay. My mind continually drifts to being back in his cabin tonight.
We’re approaching the back of Clam Cove Resort when I spot Hazel ahead of us in a wooden rowboat, distinguishable by her cat-eye sunglasses and red scarf tied around her hair.
‘Hey, isn’t that your mum?’
Jack glances over his shoulder and sighs, shuffling around to face the back of the board. My view is happily obscured by his wide shoulders.
‘Mum! What are you doing out here in that?’
‘Well, good afternoon to you too.’ Hazel pulls up alongside our board. ‘I’m not here to see you, darling. My water telegram is for Andie.’
Jack ignores her. ‘Don’t tell me the motor is out on Billy and you haven’t said anything?’
‘Billy?’ Whoops. I didn’t mean to say that out loud.
‘My motor boat, dear,’ Hazel says. ‘It’s tradition to name your boat after your true love. I really wish I hadn’t, though. Not that I didn’t love Billy, it’s just that I only did it because he was always complaining about how much time I spent with my boat. Well, I fixed that problem right up, didn’t I? That’s what you get for being with an island girl. The only problem was that as soon as I named it, the fish stopped biting! You see, there’s an old wives’ tale that says if you give your boat the wrong name, you’ll have bad luck for future catches. Never had any issues with Hannah here, though.’
My eyes flick down to the waterline to find faded blue letters in beautiful cursive spelling Hannah along the side of the white boat.
‘Maybe you need a boat named Jack , Mum.’
‘Like I haven’t given you enough, son,’ she bites back with a grin.
Their easy banter makes my heart ache. Mum and I used to share our own love language, reciting full scenes of our favourite movies, taking a line at a time.
‘I’m perfectly capable of repairing the motor myself, when I get to it,’ Hazel continues. ‘Anyway, these gravity-defying oars that Arthur made me really give this baby some extra juice. Feels like I barely have to lift a finger.’
I’m not well versed in oars, but hers do seem to be curiously shaped, like hexagons.
Jack groans. ‘Honestly, Mum. You need to stop encouraging that man. Somehow, I don’t think they’re approved by the Maritime Safety Authority.’
‘Well, lucky you’re not required to think anything about it.’
I swallow a smile at Hazel’s frank attitude.
‘Anyway, I stopped by to invite Andie to the documentary screening.’
I’m amused by her casual phrasing – like she hasn’t rowed hundreds of metres to speak with us.
‘I’m finishing up the editing today, ready for the most exclusive of premieres at my house tomorrow night, 7 p.m. Can you make it, Andie?’ she asks eagerly.
‘Oh, ah – well – um, let me have a quick think.’
My first thought is not the girls, but Jack. It’ll be our last night together. Holiday hook-up rule number twelve: Let it play out naturally. But surely that doesn’t apply to the final night of the holiday fling.
‘You’ll be there too, Jack.’
‘I will, will I?’ I can’t see his expression, but I can imagine the exact quirk of his eyebrow. ‘I wouldn’t miss it for the world,’ he says, warmth flooding his voice.
‘Me either,’ I confirm enthusiastically, attempting to right my initial hesitation.
‘You’re more than welcome to bring your group, Andie – although I can’t guarantee seating for everyone. Unless they happen upon some river treasure on the way. How does that silly poem go? “Admission is free, you can pay at the door. We’ll give you a seat, so you can sit on the floor”.’ Hazel chuckles.
‘Oi!’ booms a deep male voice.
We’ve been so engrossed in our conversation that we failed to notice a fishing boat approaching. Richie leans over the edge and waves.
The boat chugs to a stop and Ben and Garth rush to join Richie at the side nearest to us, causing the boat to visibly tip.
‘Guys!’ Tom shouts from his position at the wheel. It’s evidently been a bream-and-beers kind of fishing trip.
Instead of returning to the centre of the boat to distribute their weight more evenly, Richie yells, ‘Yew!’ and leaps off the side.
‘Idiot,’ Jack mutters.
Tom shakes his head as Richie pops up, gasping. ‘Mate, that was incredibly dangerous. I haven’t even dropped anchor.’
An instinct that feels suspiciously close to evil washes over me. It’s my turn to cry Woof.
‘Careful. We saw a bull shark in that exact spot earlier,’ I call.
‘Oh, Woof.’ Hazel laughs. ‘You really are getting well acquainted with this island, aren’t you?’ She exchanges a meaningful look with Jack.
Meanwhile, Richie splashes and splutters his way back to the boat.
‘I’ve heard that the calmer you are, the less likely you are to lose a limb,’ I shout sweetly.
Jack turns to grin at me. If he didn’t know what I was made of before, he certainly does now.
‘We might head back,’ he says to Hazel. ‘It’s getting busier on the water, and I don’t want to get caught in any river crossfire. I’ve got precious cargo to return to shore.’
Shit. What was that holiday hook-up rule again? Don’t catch feelings.
The fact he’s speaking about me like this in front of his mother is making my heart race.
‘Yes,’ Hazel agrees. ‘Let’s get our Andie-girl back safely.’