Chapter 2
What a wonderful day to have eyeballs, I think to myself as I watch an extremely buff and marvellously almost-naked man step into the pool. I spin around to figure out where he came from and spot a changing room behind me. Next thing I know, he’s carving his way through the cerulean blue like a knife through butter and oh my word . Athletic body, beautiful face, are those cheekbones for real? This dude is divine.
DIVINE.
I have never seen such an incredibly hot man in my entire life, I realise delightedly as he pauses, pushes the water off his face, then carries on swimming those strong, broad strokes.
I shade my eyes to get a better look. Although, hang on, I shouldn’t really be ogling him like this, should I? I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t appreciate being on the receiving end of Jessica Jones and her apparent new job title, Debauchee.
But then, I reason, surely he must get this all the time? So very pretty. Dear lord, those abs are so defined he could probably grate cheese with them. Am I dribbling? And why must I be covered in bird poo, coffee and the smells of vomit-masking-bleach while in the presence of such an impeccable human being? The thought pulls me up, and I decide that I really must stop staring at him. It’s probably dangerous, isn’t it? Like staring at the sun. My poor, bedazzled pupils.
I absolutely will stop.
Soon.
Really soon.
Or maybe … five more minutes?
I slip my sunglasses down over my eyes to fully cement my newfound status as a degenerate and grab a sunlounger with a bird’s-eye view of the … the sea, the sea. That’s definitely what I’m staring at, your honour. To think that just this morning I was waking up in my little mildewed flat and now look.
I cannot wait for Em to get here so I can point him out. Powerful arms propel him forward through the water. Long, lean legs kick back. There’s no splash, this guy moves effortlessly. His dark hair glistens. Droplets cling to the angles of his face.
Oh to be a droplet of water!
He’s paused at one end now, catching his breath.
I try to do the same. Not easy, given that he’s hoisted himself half out of the water and the sun is casting shadows across a chest cut from marble.
The five minutes is up, hotdammit, so I try to stop panting and attempt to busy myself with a copy of the hotel’s magazine on the table next to my lounger. It’s made of thick paper and embossed font. The words ‘whole life cleanse’ jump out at me and I nod enthusiastically at the mag like we’re on the same page.
My enthusiasm wanes dramatically when my phone pings with a message from my ex-boyfriend, a scowl darkening my face for the first time today.
Jess, where are the teabags? xO
Oh for goodness sake! Otis should know this already. And I bet he’s after my teabags, I think churlishly, even though I’ve repeatedly asked him to buy his own. Urgh, no, I refuse to think about Otis right now, I decide, tossing my phone to one side. I’m on a whole life cleanse! I’m starting a brand-new chapter!
Like moths to a flame, my eyes flick back to Hot Swimmer again. It’s like opening a packet of Maltesers and promising yourself you’ll only have a few and the next thing you know, your hand has a mind of its own and the entire pack has been demolished.
This man is my packet of Maltesers and I would happily devour him whole.
What has got into me?
I’m not usually so lascivious, promise. Come to think of it, I can’t remember the last time I felt such a strong physical attraction to someone. Maybe … never? Boyfriends have been and gone but the whole fireworks and fanfares and clothes being ripped off in the heat of the moment thing? Surely that’s just for books and boxsets, not normal humans like me. No, I’m just pottering along in the real world, focusing on the important things, like family, saving money and my newfound appreciation for artisan sourdough.
Only now I seem to have added Hot Swimmer fantasies to my repertoire. I briefly allow myself to dream about diving into the pool and having hot, hot sex with him but then I have to stop that immediately because imagine . Or rather don’t.
Am I sweating?
I shake my head and take a sip of the cucumber water that has materialised by my side. Fantasies are fine, right? All this imaginary pool sex can stay happily in my head, where it belongs. Because obviously, this taste sensation would never look in my direction. And even if he did, after everything that happened with Otis, I really ought to be taking a break from boys.
It just makes good sense.
A splash of water lands at my feet.
‘Sorry,’ comes the husky-voiced apology. He’s looking right at me with piercing grey eyes.
‘No worries.’ I gulp, now firmly back in the fantasy. I literally wouldn’t know how to handle myself if I got swept away by a man who did things like this to my insides by just minding his own business, swimming in a pool. Imagine if we kissed! OR MORE!
It’s a battle, but I do eventually drag my eyes away and refocus on the hotel magazine. It’s giving ultra luxe. I still can’t believe I’m actually here and that the whole trip, food and drink included, is costing me less than that sand-free week in Camber Sands. I turn the pages and marvel at the spa, all natural wood and soft stone edges. My fingers track down the list of treatments, all included in the stay, and I vaguely wonder what ‘lift rapide’ entails.
‘THERE’S A LIbrARY HERE?’
I shouted that out aloud. Startled, I look up to see Hot Swimmer pause and smile at me. Embarrassing.
‘Wait ’til you see it,’ he calls over. ‘It’s great. Really big.’
No stop it, Jessica.
I try to recall the art of conversation. Because I ought to reply, preferably with some actual words. Something cool and casual and normal. A cheery ‘gotta love a library!’ springs to mind. But I’ve been rendered speechless by the realisation that this is my dream man swimming before me. Physically exemplary and appreciates a library? If there was a jackpot for this kind of thing, he’d be the big win. Honestly, a hot library lover? And now the news that there’s a library here?
Today is The One.
You know what’s not The One? My face. I try to smile back at the swimmer, now that words are too difficult and all, but I fear I’m grimacing at him so I burrow further behind the magazine and will myself to calm the heck down.
Just focus on the library. And the tennis courts, the yoga studio, the natural pool, the surf shack, the stables … For fear of sensory overload, I snap the magazine shut.
Hurry up, Em and Stella!
My ultimate crush is back to doing laps again, and I am grateful. I stretch out on the lounger, the sun now high in the sky, and undo the top few buttons of my shirt. Is it the weather, or am I hot for other reasons? Hard to tell.
‘Can I get you anything?’
I jump, surprised by the interruption. A member of staff is standing by my side, bringing with them a waft of lavender from the plants growing around the entirety of the pool. ‘Perhaps a peach margarita?’ they suggest, when it becomes clear that I’m in a man-trance. ‘We have some freshly picked peaches from the hotel garden that are just delicious.’
Now that does sound good. I check the time.
‘It’s a little early for me …’ I waver, just as Hot Swimmer steps out of the pool and wraps a towel firmly around his tight torso. His whole body shimmers in the sunlight and I swallow, hard. I find myself with a terrible thirst. ‘Oh, go on then. Yes please!’
I have stepped into my lush era (if they’re good enough for Em) and I am totally okay with that. Slightly tipsy on a midday margarita, I remain glued to my sunlounger with my sunnies on, magazine truly abandoned as I enjoy the show. I’ve even started up a game of What Does He Do as I work my way through career options for Hot Swimmer.
I’m guessing model, with that mesmerising combination of pale eyes, dark skin and brown hair. Now that he’s finished swimming, he’s taken up one of the sunloungers opposite and is perched on the end, drying off in the surprisingly warm British sunshine. I wouldn’t be surprised to find a photographer hidden in the bushes taking publicity shots of him for the hotel’s website.
Or, option two, athlete. That body. It’s not the kind that comes naturally, but then it’s not the kind of frightening body-builder, veins-popping bod either. Sort of sculpted perfection, like a sexy statue.
A noise from beyond breaks my reverie and I sense instantly that Stella has arrived. My heart leaps. She’s here! I watch as she marches over the top of the hill and down the stone steps towards the pool, waving at me, and I wave back, thrilled beyond words to see her.
‘All right, dickhead?’ she booms across the tranquil setting.
D-head? Honestly, she’s coined all sorts of ‘terms of endearment’ in our ten years of friendship but I’m not sure I can handle this latest development. Especially in front of Hot Swimmer Who Reads.
But then it becomes clear that Stella is not talking to me.
She’s talking to Hot Swimmer.
Why is she swearing at strangers in the swimming pool?
If Stella gets us kicked out before we’ve even checked in, I won’t be best pleased.
Hang on, she’s not just talking to him. She’s running towards him.
Why is he a d-head?
I gawp as Stella barrels into my new crush at 100mph. She wraps her arms tightly around him and he’s laughing as he hoists her up into the air and plonks her back down again.
‘Stella,’ he says, and even in my confusion I note that there’s the hint of an accent.
Do they know each other?
I mean obviously yes, yes, they do. But how ? And more importantly why has my best friend kept this beautiful acquaintance a secret from me for so long? Seems rude.
Stella is now ruffling his hair like one might a dog or a small child, while he bats her away with a sweet fondness. She’s laughing too, and I watch her take a step back as if to soak him up. Then she turns to me.
‘Jessica! Get over here!’ She beckons me over from the other side of the pool.
Hot Swimmer cocks an eyebrow, clearly as surprised that Stella knows me as I was the other way round.
Right, so, I’m going over? I slip my trainers back on. Do my legs still work? I trot across the flagstone floor, not at all self-conscious to be walking towards the hottest man on the planet while a bit tipsy.
‘Jesus H, Jess!’ Stella calls as I get closer, pushing her own sunglasses up onto her head and looking at me admiringly. ‘Your tits. YOUR TITS! I haven’t seen so much of your tits in years.’ It’s at this point that I remember I unbuttoned the majority of my shirt in a lusty hot flush. ‘You look banging.’
I am contemplating diving in the pool fully clothed until this moment can be over.
‘Can we stop using the word tits?’ I mutter, trying to button my shirt back up but Stella keeps swatting at my hand.
‘Haven’t seen the girls since uni,’ she says before pulling me into a hug.
‘The girls,’ I snort in spite of myself. I squeeze her back, ninety-nine per cent overjoyed to see her and one per cent very much aware of the beautiful man’s presence. Or is it the other way around?
‘What’s that?’ She frowns, spotting the coffee stain.
‘Coffee,’ I explain, rolling my eyes at myself. ‘Don’t you think it looks like—’
‘The Sydney Opera House,’ comes that deep voice, and I fully stop in my tracks to look at him now.
‘That’s exactly what I thought!’ I marvel.
‘I’d recognise those J?rn Utzon waves anywhere,’ he adds, smiling shyly at me.
Shut the front door.
‘Look at this.’ Stella beams as I try to compose myself. ‘Two of my favourite people on the planet, bonding over being architecture nerds.’
She claps her hands together.
I’m so confused right now.
‘Sorry, who …’ I begin, thoroughly stumbling over my words. A quick glance at Hot Swimmer confirms that he’s looking right at me, which makes me blush inordinate amounts.
‘Jess, you remember my little brother Luke, right?’
The penny takes painfully long to drop. I literally look from him to her, out to the sea and then back from one of my oldest friends to Hot Swimmer as my pathetically confused brain processes this information.
This is Stella’s little brother Luke?
Noooooooooooooooooo.
OH NO.
Surely, no?
I have fallen into an abyss of cringe and may never return. I simply can’t have just spent the past hour perving over my best friend’s little brother, last seen about a decade ago when he was a gangly teenager. Can I? I can. I did.
Goodbye, dignity, it’s been nice knowing you.
I look at each of them again, the sibling similarity hitting me for the first time. The sheer height of the two of them. The sheer beauty. Those high cheekbones. When Stella walks into a room, everyone stops what they are doing and I have no doubt that Luke has the same effect. Stella’s mum is Scottish and her African American dad left shortly after Luke was born. She never dwells much on her tough upbringing but I know that Stella cut all contact with her dad when she discovered he had another family back in Baltimore. Stella wraps an arm around her brother and beams her broad smile at him, and he reciprocates with the exact same grin.
‘It’s so good to have you back,’ Stella’s saying, walloping Luke on the back. ‘My little bro, back in the UK.’
My brain scrambles for information. When was the last time I saw Luke? And how in hell could I not have properly noticed him then. I cast my mind back, and it settles on the one time we met. He could only have been about seventeen when he came to visit Stella at uni, and I think we must have exchanged a grand total of three words before Stella and Em took him out on a bar crawl. Naturally, as it was exam season, I too enjoyed a wild night of revising while eating ice cream straight from the tub.
But now that I think about it, I do remember a fleeting glimpse of this tall, skinny, shy kid. He was sweet, and polite, and definitely overwhelmed to be surrounded by older women. And, well, that’s about it? He went home the following day and the next thing I’d heard, he’d moved to America on a sports scholarship.
‘Jessica Jones, have you and your tits been here all morning?’ Stella brings me back to the present moment with yet more unsolicited chat about my breasts.
‘Um, yep!’ I squeak, approx. an octave higher than normal. Notice that Luke is now pointedly looking anywhere but my ‘tits’. ‘We, I mean, I got here super early and our rooms weren’t ready so they said I could hang out by the pool.’ Is he embarrassed by my tits, or the fact that his sister keeps mentioning them?
‘Mate.’ Stella grins. ‘I am SO excited for the next week. Thank Christ you’re here, I’ve missed you.’ My heart swells at this and I reach across for a snuggle. ‘And you’ve already bumped into my surprise. Luke is here!’ She claps her brother on the back again and he turns to me with a disarming smile, his gaze holding mine for a beat longer than strictly necessary. It ignites the tiniest question in my mind, like, is he thinking the same? Ha ha no, don’t be ridiculous, Jess. I always have been fanciful; I blame all the books I read. But before Luke looks away, while his eyes are trained on mine, I seriously consider stepping into a parallel universe where I am bold and brave, and in that universe, I am flinging my clothes on the floor already.
Stella’s still talking, about her little brother , and I am thankfully brought back to my senses. ‘He’s got a new job heading up the sports department here, haven’t you, little man?’
I can’t help it, the corners of my mouths twitch upwards at this. If Luke, who must be a good six-foot-five, is less than thrilled to be called ‘little man’ by his older sister, then he doesn’t show it. He smiles softly and catches my eye again for all of one second – which, it turns out, is all it takes to set every nerve of mine aflame – before replying: ‘That’s right. Couldn’t stay in the States forever.’
Ah, so that’s why his voice sounded familiar. Luke has the exact same Yorkshire accent as Stella, no hint of a transatlantic twang after years across the pond. Maybe if he’d said more than just a few words about the library earlier I would have cottoned on sooner.
‘So you’re working here now?’ I finally manage.
Luke nods. ‘The hotel won’t properly open for another week so I’m kind of at fifty per cent capacity right now,’ he’s explaining.
Imagine him at one hundred per cent.
NO STOP IT.
He continues, ‘We’re doing a soft launch, mostly for press and celebrities—’
‘And siblings,’ chips in Stella.
‘And siblings’ friends,’ he glances at me again, ‘which is great because it means you will get to see it before it gets really busy.’
‘We owe Luke for the ridiculous discount,’ Stella tells me.
‘I don’t mind you owing me.’ He smiles, catching my eye.
To say I feel flustered doesn’t cover it.
‘Wow, erm, thanks,’ I begin.
‘I’m kidding,’ he says. ‘It’ll be a pleasure to have you here.’
‘And considering you’re not working full time yet, we can factor in some fun stuff together, right?’ asks Stella.
‘For sure.’ Luke nods. ‘I’m coaching some classes but I will definitely be around.’
I slightly stagger back at this thought, which Stella and Luke both seem to think means I’ve stepped back to admire the hotel.
‘Beautiful, isn’t it?’ Luke says. ‘The old house is Neoclassicism at its finest. She dates back to the late seventeen-hundreds. I love the columns, the stone, the history …’
‘When we were kids, Luke’s favourite thing was planning dream holidays where we’d jet off together and go visit places of architectural interest. You made your own little travel brochures, remember?’
Luke laughs good-naturedly. ‘Will you stop embarrassing me, Stell?’
‘I think that ship has sailed,’ she says. ‘“Neoclassicism at its finest?” Ba ha ha.’
Luke shifts from foot to foot, looking skywards as if seeking strength.
‘I actually agree with Luke,’ I say.
‘Thank you, Jess.’ He smiles bashfully at me.
‘Dorks unite.’ Stella rolls her eyes. ‘So, you two can spend this week bonding over buildings while Em and I drink the bar dry, okay?’
I don’t answer. I’m too busy marvelling. Luke likes architecture too? Dear lord , he’s ticking boxes. It’s just a shame that one of those boxes is a giant one that reads CLOSELY RELATED TO YOUR BEST FRIEND.
Tick!
Ew, I’m a wrong’un.
‘Speaking of which,’ Stella continues, ‘where did you get that margarita from, Jessie? Start as you mean to go on, and all that.’
‘Members of staff just appear here,’ I explain, wide-eyed. ‘It’s like they can sense when you need something.’
Stella rubs her hands together and we’re beaming at each other like happy fools when, predictably, a margarita appears for Stella and a second one for me.
‘I’d better get going,’ Luke says as we clink our drinks. ‘Tennis class to coach. But I’ll catch up with you guys later?’ He pauses, smiles that smile at me. ‘It was good to see you again, Jess. Sorry, I didn’t recognise you earlier or I’d have stopped swimming to say hello rather than just shouting at you about libraries like a lunatic.’
With that, he runs a hand through his wet hair and I swear he looks bashful.
‘No, no,’ I insist. ‘I love libraries. And books. Books are great and, you know, so are libraries. Just so many books. And also thank you, yes, good to see you too, Luke.’
Stella gives me a curious look. ‘Jesus, these margaritas must be strong if you’re spouting shite already.’
‘What do you mean “already”?’ I protest as Luke waves a goodbye.
Stella narrows her eyes at me. ‘Have you taken up a drug habit since I last saw you?’
‘No! You’re right, it’s the, erm, margarita.’
‘Okay good. Don’t make me hold an intervention, Jessie, because you know I will.’
She totally would. I grab a hold of my senses.
‘Stell, I’m fine, promise. Just ridiculously excited. This place is insane!’
Stella seems reassured by this, thank goodness, and I think not having Luke in my line of vision is doing wonders for my clarity. Now that I’m no longer dragging my eyes up and down his indecent body like a horny hooligan, my heartrate is starting to return to normal.
I’m not really a disgrace, right? It’s just a small crush! On my best friend’s little brother! Only natural! Just because I don’t get crushes very often (ever) doesn’t mean I need to panic. It’s an initial burst of attraction that will no doubt wear off over time. In fact, I’m probably over the worst of it already.
I’ll be fine. Phew!
The deafening sound of a helicopter hovering overhead stops us in our tracks and we look up to see a sleek silver chopper circling.
‘It could be Kendall Roy, but I’m guessing it’s Emerald,’ Stella shouts at me over the racket. ‘Always one for a low-key entrance.’