Chapter Twenty-One
TWENTY-ONE
‘I can’t believe we’re doing this,’ I say, mouth still on his, wrapped up in Callum’s arms in the middle of duty-free.
‘Are you happy?’ he asks, pausing to look at me, which makes me huff impatiently.
‘I am very happy, but especially when you are kissing me. Please don’t stop.’
‘Got it.’ He beams.
‘Get a room,’ tuts a passer-by.
How rude! Aren’t airports made for emotional scenes like this one?
‘They clearly haven’t seen the start of Love, Actually,’ Callum whispers, making me laugh.
‘There’s so much more I want to learn about you.’
‘The feeling is mutual. First question: what is the tune you hum all the time?’
I stop and give him a look.
‘I don’t hum all the time.’
He gives me this loveable grin. ‘Do you not know you’re doing it?’
‘What?’
‘Jesus, it’s adorable. Whenever there’s a quiet moment, you start gently humming this tune. It’s the sweetest sound and it drives me crazy.’
‘Crazy?’
‘In a good way,’ he explains. ‘I’ve been going mad trying to figure out what song it is.’
‘Do I actually?’
‘Yes.’ He’s laughing too.
‘Please tell me it’s not “Mambo No. 5”.’
‘Definitely not. It’s something like this,’ he says, recreating the sound. I try not to get too distracted by the movement of his Adam’s apple.
‘It’s “Over and Over”!’ I instantly recognize it. ‘You know the Hot Chip song?’
I start singing the lyrics out loud, Callum watching me like he’s never seen anything cuter.
‘That’s not quite how it goes,’ he counters.
‘Yes, it is! I should know, it’s been waking me up every day.’
He bites his lip. ‘I’m guessing you don’t play any instruments?’
‘Are you telling me I’m out of tune?!’
‘A little bit. No wonder I couldn’t figure out what it was.’
‘Well, that’s very rude. And no, I do not play any instruments. But I’ll have you know that a music teacher at my secondary school said I had “potential”.’
Callum appears delighted by this.
‘Although, now that I think about it, I’m sure that’s what teachers say to kids who aren’t naturals at something,’ I add, slightly crestfallen. ‘Do I seriously hum that “all the time” or are you exaggerating?’
‘All the time,’ he says confidently.
‘I guess it’s a subliminal thing. It’s been my morning alarm clock for years, now.’
Callum presses his finger to his lips.
‘A song called “Over and Over” is your alarm sound? Is that what’s been waking you up every Monday?’
‘Yes. Do you reckon I should change it?’
‘I mean, it can’t hurt.’ He grins at me.
‘Could passengers Callum Bang and Nina Moss please proceed to their departure gate immediately. Your flight to Singapore Changi Airport is now boarding. That’s passengers Bang and Moss, please proceed to departure gate.’
‘Crap,’ I mutter, hastily grabbing my bag. ‘How long did we spend kissing?’
‘Not long enough,’ grumbles Callum, holding out his hand. ‘Well then, Moss. It looks like we’ve got a flight to catch.’
The passengers all look the same, the flight attendants too, and yet there’s a distinctly different vibe as Callum and I board the flight. This time we’re the late ones and not one person is booing us.
Instinctively, Callum offers to help me put my bag in the overhead locker. I hand it to him and watch as Jennifer and Rachel lose their shit over how chivalrous he is.
‘Age before beauty,’ I say, gesturing for him to grab his seat first. ‘Actually, how old are you? We really do have a lot to learn this flight.’
‘Thirty-two. Two years your senior,’ he says.
‘How did you know that I’m thirty?’
‘You had a birthday countdown going in the office, Nina,’ he reminds me.
‘Oh yes, I did do that.’
‘And then you invited everyone out for drinks, except me.’
I wince. ‘On second thoughts, that might have been a little small-minded of me. Even though you insisted on coming anyway. Clearly not a man to be overly concerned by such things as a guest list.’
He rolls his eyes good-naturedly. ‘Kat invited me. Said it must have been an oversight on your part. And I did bring a gift.’
This is true. Callum turned up with a small, beautifully wrapped parcel.
I’d opened it when I got home. Inside the box was a soft leather keyring with my initials on it.
I remember turning it over in my hands, quite drunk by that point, and really surprised that the man who hated my guts had bought me such a thoughtful gift.
Had he been trying to make amends way back when?
‘I’ve brought it with me,’ I say, suddenly remembering.
‘You have?’
‘It’s in my bag. It’s taken me ages to use it because I felt so conflicted. I loved it and I hated you.’
‘So what made you pack it?’
‘The old one did this to me,’ I say, holding up the cut on my thumb.
He takes it in his hand, brows furrowed as he surveys the damage.
‘It was a gift from my ex,’ I explain. ‘A plastic strawberry-shaped keyring which was chipped and tatty. When I picked up my keys this morning, this happened. I put yours on instinctively.’
‘No more plastic tat for you,’ he says, a small smile playing on his lips.
In fear of getting fully distracted by said lips and having us thrown off the flight, I make a show of reading the safety manual.
‘Look,’ I say, gesturing towards the manual. ‘I am learning and growing.’
He nods his approval.
‘Much better, Moss.’
‘Do you think the keyring is our key out of this?’ I ask. ‘You bought it months ago, so does that mean you had the answer all along?’
‘And how would you feel about that?’
‘Deeply annoyed.’ I grin.
He arches an eyebrow. ‘Thought so. But no, I don’t think it’s the keyring.’
‘The salmon sperm moisturizer, then?’ I suggest, showing him my new buy.
He gives me the cutest look, which turns into a dazzling smile.
‘I’m also going for a no on that one,’ he says. ‘I’m not sure any of this stuff is the key out of here. Maybe we just need to feel happy that we’re here and we’re in this together.’
‘And there’s a long flight to fill,’ I purr, staring at his mouth again.
‘As much as I would love to recreate Monday Five—’ he’s saying.
I squawk. ‘Have you come up with a system for naming all your Mondays, too?’
‘Of course.’ Callum nods. ‘I’ve numbered them. The first one, where you had a meltdown because there was no 31B and then told me you’d come dressed for my funeral, I’m calling real-time Monday.’
I clear my throat. ‘Sorry about that?’
He smirks. ‘I’m not. The more ruffled you get, the cuter you are.’
I cross my arms. ‘Do you want another falling out?’
He holds his hands up in surrender.
‘If it helps, you’re also extremely cute when you’re happy.’
‘Yes, I am,’ I pout. ‘Now please continue.’
‘Right, so after real-time Monday where we weren’t looping, I had Monday Two. The first loop but the second Monday, if that makes sense?’
‘That’s the exact same system as mine,’ I say, looking at him approvingly.
‘So much in common, Nina.’
‘Who’d have thought it?’
‘So right now we’re in …’ he says.
‘Monday Eight,’ we both say at the same time.
‘And by “recreating Monday Five”, you’re talking about the time you got us both into trouble by drinking smuggled champagne out in the foyer.’
‘I did do that,’ I say, eyes twinkling at the memories.
Sitting next to Callum is like being seated next to a powerful magnet, every single fibre of my being is crashing up against the side of me, trying to get as close to him as possible.
It’s dizzying and memories of how he made me feel that day are not helping.
‘Hot towel?’ offers a member of the cabin crew.
I gratefully accept, pressing it against my wrists and neck.
Callum watches me. Swallows hard.
‘Nina, I …’ He trails off. It is now crystal clear that Callum and I are going to have to get naked as soon as physically possible. I cannot cope with this sexual tension much longer. My body feels like it could pop. But when? Where?
‘What if we don’t get out of here?’ I whisper. What if even the layover isn’t an option? Not that I’ve got a one-track mind or anything. ‘I got electrocuted at Singapore airport yesterday while wearing a T-shirt that read “Eric can kiss my ass”,’ I add, dismayed.
Callum presses his lips together.
‘You’re trying not to laugh!’
‘I’m sorry,’ he says. ‘That does sound painful.’
‘It actually made a nice change from death by luggage buggy.’ I grin as my food arrives.
‘Can we please discuss how ridiculous that is?’ Callum says, pulling the lid off his main meal.
‘At least we’re finding the funny side of it all.’
‘I think we have to. I’ve had days where I’ve felt so confused by everything that it’s made me really grumpy.’
‘That explains a lot,’ I tease.
‘Says the woman who turned up to Monday Five wearing love-heart trousers and a Fontaines DC T-shirt – one of my favourite bands by the way.’
‘Same,’ I say. ‘And I stand by my sartorial choices. I was getting so fed up of wearing the same thing day after day.’
‘I get that.’ He grins. ‘And I’ll be honest, love-heart trousers suit you.’
‘In that case, I will buy you a pair.’
‘We do like to match,’ he says. ‘But you’d look good in anything.’
Heat floods to my cheeks.
‘That’s going to take some getting used to,’ I say.
‘What’s that?’
‘You giving me compliments.’
‘I’m always giving you compliments, Moss, it’s just that most of the time you chose to ignore them.’
‘No, you’re not!’
‘I told you I liked the hat you bought at the airport, and I told you that you look good in your passport photo.’
‘I thought you were taking the piss.’
‘I could tell.’ He leans forward, casting his gaze back towards me. ‘I’ve been doing a lot of thinking these past few days, and one of the things I am definitely going to try and do is prove to you how much I mean the things I say to you.’
I swallow.
‘You are?’
He nods.
‘Mm-hm. We’ve spent an awful lot of time bickering and not nearly enough time listening to each other, so from now on, I am all ears.’
‘Is that what you decided on Monday Six Open Brackets Ten Years Ago Close Brackets?’
‘Catchy title,’ he laughs. ‘And yes, it is.’
‘Where did that day take you?’