Chapter 10 #2
After a few minutes I hear Flavia’s bedspread rustling a little as she turns a bit, so I take the opportunity to turn over too, in the hope that a new sleeping position will help me nod off. I don’t want to turn over too much because I don’t want to disturb Flavia.
I am incredibly wide awake.
I’m an early riser and don’t sleep well once it’s light, but I really never have issues getting to sleep. It’s clearly because of Flavia’s presence. It’s just odd being in the same room as her like this.
I strain my ears to see if it sounds as though Flavia’s breathing like a person who’s asleep.
I really can’t tell.
I’m going to have to imagine paint drying or something.
I begin to count sheep. It’s very boring but it is not making me any more sleepy.
I have to turn over. And, actually, if Flavia’s asleep now, it won’t disturb her, and if she isn’t it will give her the opportunity to do some guilt-free rustling.
I adjust my pillow and the duvet and settle into my favourite sleep position (still fully awake).
There is now quite a lot of rustling from Flavia’s direction.
Neither of us speaks, though.
I begin to run through in my head all the work I need to do after the new year, which does not make me sleepy but does make me a little tense, and then I’m disturbed by a squeak from Flavia’s direction.
‘What?’ I leap out of bed, stub my toe on something, swear, and then hop over in her direction.
‘There’s something just outside,’ she screeches.
I state the obvious. ‘Probably an animal.’
‘What if it gets in?’
‘Then it will probably eat us,’ I quip (unfunnily, I realise).
‘Okay, no, this is terrible. We need the lights.’ I hear some flailing and then she stumbles off the sofa and we bump into each other in the middle of the room.
She’s warm, she’s soft, she’s gorgeous (I know that without looking), and she’s… in my arms right now.
I let go of her really fast and we both take a step and bump into each other again.
‘Okay,’ I say, trying to breathe normally.
There is no good reason not to be breathing normally; what is wrong with me?
‘There’s a light switch at the side of the bed.
You stay here and I’ll find it.’ I inch back towards the bed – it’s so dark without any artificial light anywhere and I do not want to stub my toe again – and eventually after what seems like minutes – reach the side and feel around until my fingers find the switch.
I flip it on and suddenly the room’s bathed in light.
Flavia’s standing blinking in the middle of the room in her pyjamas, arms folded across her chest, her hair a mad riot of curls.
I opt to state some boring common sense, to take my mind off how much I want to pull her into my arms. ‘We’re in a lodge in the middle of a game reserve.
Of course large animals prowl around outside sometimes.
But we’re safe. Obviously. It’s very sturdily built.
’ I gesture around the room, like we can tell by looking at it whether it could withstand a sustained attack.
Common sense does dictate that it could, though.
‘You’re a very common-sensical person.’ Flavia sounds a little disapproving.
‘Stands me in good stead in fake-stressful situations,’ I point out.
She nods and squeezes her arms even more tightly around her chest. ‘I suppose.’
‘You know I don’t think this sleeping arrangement is totally working for either of us,’ I say. ‘As in I have not had a wink of sleep and I suspect you might not have done either, and we have to get up very early. What about if we both take the bed?’
‘Er what?’ Flavia’s screeching a lot tonight.
‘Sorry, I didn’t finish my sentence. It’s a very big bed. If we put some sofa cushions down the middle we’ll still have lots of space each, but there’ll be no danger of…’
‘Got it.’ Flavia nods. ‘What you say does make sense.’ She suddenly cracks an enormous yawn. ‘I really want to go to sleep.’
‘Me too.’ I hold my hand out. ‘Deal?’
She hesitates for a moment and then reaches out and shakes my hand, and I first curse myself for the handshake because I can’t help noticing now that she’s removed her arms from her chest how revealing that top is, and then I curse myself for noticing.
I drag my eyes away from places they shouldn’t be, and say, ‘Okay, then,’ and busy myself taking cushions and placing them down the middle of the bed.
Then we both kind of hover, before Flavia moves towards the side of the bed where she’s placed the pillows she had on the sofa, and I go to the other side.
‘This is a lot more comfortable,’ Flavia says in a muffled voice a minute later. ‘I love this bed. Thank you.’
‘Nothing to thank me for,’ I point out.
‘Mmm.’ She sounds very sleepy, and her breathing is already slowing as though she’s falling into a deep slumber.
The light’s still on, so I take a peek at her face after a couple of minutes. Her eyes are closed, her long lashes beautiful against her cheeks, her hair spread on the pillow around her head.
I decide not to switch the light out, because I don’t want to do anything to disturb her, and just close my eyes, feeling weirdly contented now, and drift straight off.
* * *
We’re woken by a loud knock on the door and Maxim calling, ‘Rise and shine.’ Maxim has a touch of the Duracell bunny about him. When I drag my arm out from under the duvet I see that it’s 5 a.m. He sounds as though he’s already firing on all cylinders.
Now fully awake, I look over the cushions to the other side of the bed.
Flavia wasn’t joking when she said she’s an excellent sleeper.
She’s curled on her side, clearly dead to the world, looking very peaceful, and also quite… adorable.
I feel myself take a deep sigh.
If I were a different person… And if she were…
But I wreck relationships. Maybe because I’m too busy for one: my job is extremely full on. And no-one sane wrecks a relationship with a friend’s sister. And no-one kind wrecks a relationship with a woman who’s probably very vulnerable right now.
So I won’t be having any kind of relationship with her, including even just a very short fling.
I frown. I’m being exceptionally arrogant. There’s every chance that she has no interest in any kind of fling with me and that I have absolutely no choice to make.
I’m an idiot actually.
We need to get out of bed.
‘Flavia,’ I say. No response. I repeat her name a couple of times, and she just carries on sleeping.
Eventually, I put my hand on her shoulder and give it a little squeeze and say, ‘Flavia, it’s time to get up,’ right into her ear.
‘Mmmph,’ she says and then, as I lean back to my side of the bed, she takes a very deep, sleepy sigh, and does a huge, full-body wriggle.
I have to close my eyes for a second to recover from the incredibly tempting sight.
‘Why don’t I have a one-minute shower while you wake up properly?’ I suggest to a fully-back-to-sleep Flavia.
When I’m out of the bathroom, fully dressed, Flavia is, naturally, still fast asleep.
I walk round the bed and bellow in her ear: ‘Flavia, you’re going to miss the safari.’
She opens her eyes and then sits bolt upright, her pyjama vest in complete disarray.
I do the right thing and look away, before repeating that she really needs to get out of bed now.
‘Mmmph,’ she repeats. Then she fixes me with a wild-eyed stare and says, ‘Tired.’
‘Got it,’ I say. ‘But, also, you do have to get out of bed.’ I’m not really sure what to do in this situation.
Obviously I can’t leave her to miss this morning but also I can’t physically pull her out of bed.
(And I should certainly not physically do any of the things I’d like to do with her.) I settle for taking my phone out and playing ‘Dance Monkey’.
Surely anyone would get out of bed to make that stop.
I’m about to tell her that I’m blackmailing her with it, when she smiles, leans back against her pillows, eyes closed, and says, ‘I love this song.’
‘What? It’s terrible. I hate it.’
‘Why would you put on a song you hate?’ she asks, eyes still closed. ‘That’s just weird.’
‘To get you up. What’s your most hated song?’ I ask.
‘Not telling you,’ she says sleepily, not falling for my ruse for a second.
‘Okay. You have to get out of bed. We’re leaving in under five minutes and Maxim said he’ll go without you. And so will I. So you’ll be left to the mercy of the wild animals outside.’
My lie works where ‘Dance Monkey’ did not. She opens her eyes fully, sits up with the duvet pulled up around herself and says, ‘Shit.’
‘I know.’
‘Okay. I’ll be ready in five. If you wouldn’t mind…’
‘I’m on it.’ I scramble out of the room to give her space.
And to give her her due, she’s ready in only about twelve minutes and doesn’t hold the group up at all.
I feel as though my heart has lifted when she turns up in the lodge’s entrance, like her presence has lit up the room.
I hope we’ll stay in touch after this trip ends. I’d hate not to see her again.