Chapter 18 #2
I check my watch. ‘The funicular’s closed for the night, but we could walk for a bit, maybe find somewhere to sit, take in the view.’
‘The view we’ve been looking at all night?’ she asks, her head tipped to the side.
‘That would be the one, yes,’ I say, giving her a lipless smile. ‘Never mind – let’s go u—’
‘No, we can walk a bit longer. Except…’ She sighs loudly. ‘Do you know why high heels are like Kardashians?’ she asks, bobbing down and undoing the straps of her sandals.
‘Uh, nope – can’t say I do.’
‘Because they look good, but after an hour or so, they’re just a pain in the ass.’ She picks up her sandals, letting them dangle from her fingers as she straightens.
‘Was that supposed to be funny?’ I ask.
‘Yeah, but now you get why you’re the writer and I should stick to location scouting and budgets. Okay, let’s go.’
‘I could run up and get your sneakers if you like? Or your flip-flops?’
‘Nah – pretty sure that’s cheating.’
‘How do you mean?’
‘Swapping out your shoes in the middle of a night out? Cheating. Come on,’ she says, heading off along the path.
‘Is that some weird American rule?’ I ask, rushing to catch up.
‘Nah, I just made it up. But only because I was this close to calling it a night and the shoe-swapping thing would’ve landed me on Team Go To Bed.’
‘Your logic is quite—’
‘Astute?’ she interjects with a grin.
‘I was going to say “unique”.’
‘Ah, the thinly veiled insult.’
‘If I were to insult you, I’d probably go for a backhanded one. Much more British.’
She sniggers, shaking her head at me.
Up ahead, I spy an empty bench and point it out. Delaney beelines over, falls onto it, then wiggles her toes, giving another loud sigh.
‘From now on, whenever I see a woman in high heels, I’ll think of the Kardashians,’ I say, sitting beside her.
‘Then my work here is done.’
A comfortable silence stretches between us while my eyes drink in the moonlit island. It’s so beautiful here. I really do hope we make my film – if only for the chance to return.
But that raises a niggling question: what does it mean that I’m so drawn to Delaney – that she understands me in ways no one else does – not even Dan, who’s arguably my closest friend?
And a more troubling question: why don’t I want to tell her the truth about the would-be wedding? Am I worried it’ll impact how she sees me? Possibly, but shouldn’t I be the one to tell her? Will it be worse if it’s her selfish arsehole of a boyfriend?
‘I’m gonna have to take out a loan to pay for those thoughts.’
With a jolt, I return to the present, finding Delaney watching me.
‘That obvious?’
‘What’s going on? I mean, besides the natural disaster and the travel snafu and our partners hanging out together…’
‘You’re not worried that they’ll…?’ I ask, the notion so alarming, I’m surprised it didn’t occur to me before.
‘Hah! Hell no. Nicholas would never do anything like that – he’s way too reserved – and Pippa’s engaged to the perfect man, so why would she—’
‘I’m far from perfect,’ I cut in.
‘You know what I mean,’ she says. She stares at her feet, which are swinging.
‘I really don’t,’ I reply, a flame igniting deep within and spreading through me like wildfire.
I gaze at her profile – the upturn of her nose, the fulness of her rosebud lips, the curl of her long lashes. She gulps, then turns and faces me again, her eyes piercing mine as our bodies angle towards each other’s.
‘Nick,’ she whispers, her brows knitting together.
We edge closer, almost in slow motion, our eyes locked and our breath mingling.
In the back of my mind, it’s the perfect cinematic moment, seconds before the lips touch – the pull of attraction, the chemistry between the two leads leaping off the screen.
Then it’s real.
I reach for her, cupping her cheek and guiding her mouth to meet mine.
Her lips are soft, her breath ragged in contrast, and she tastes of walnut liqueur and chocolate.
Her lips purse, pressing against mine, then drawing back with a smack.
I want more and kiss her again, hungrier this time, and she tilts her head to deepen the kiss.
The tips of our tongues touch, withdraw, then join again more forcefully.
I breathe her in as her hand snakes around my neck, her fingers tangling in my hair and tugging lightly, shooting shivers down my spine.
I wrap my other arm around her, my hand splayed on her lower back, drawing her nearer.
The touch of her lips, the taste of her, the sensation of her body pressed against mine, the pure energy rocketing through my body… I never want it to end.
Only it does – abruptly – when Delaney breaks the kiss, then wrenches free from my embrace. She faces forward, panting.
‘Delaney?’
She wipes the corners of her mouth with her forefinger and thumb.
‘Delaney, are you all right?’
‘Fuck.’
‘I’ll take that as a no, then.’
‘That was probably the best kiss of my life,’ she says, and I’ve never been surer that a but is coming, so I get in before she does.
‘But?’
She faces me. ‘But, Nick – oh my god,’ she says with a wry laugh. ‘What the actual fuck are we doing?’
I blink several times, then exhale sharply. Because there’s no good answer to that.