Chapter 22
22
I speed out of the restaurant and onto the main road that connects the harbour to the town further up. The villa is about twenty minutes on foot from here and I could wait for the bus, but I have no idea when it comes, where it picks up from, where it stops. I simply followed Kate this morning. The only thing I know how to do is run. I’m in cotton shorts and sneakers, so at least my feet are properly supported. I make a break for it, pacing down the side of the road, arms at right-angles, feet one in front of the other, focused on the path ahead. It’s only when I get to the town and think I should buy a bottle of water that I realise I don’t have my bag. I’ve left it at the restaurant. It’s hot, being the middle of the day, and I had that wine, but I’ve got no choice: I push on ahead.
I feel like I’m in a movie, but by the time I get to the villa I’m so hot and sweaty and out of breath that I’m obviously no leading lady. I go round the back, hoping to find it open, and I do. That must mean he’s here.
‘Jamie?’ I call out, not caring how desperate I sound. ‘Jamie!’ I yell again, louder. My voice is hoarse and, as eager as I am to see him, I also need a drink, immediately.
I head straight to the sink and stick my head under the tap, drinking right from it. I let it spill onto my face, cooling me down. When I’m done, I stand in the shade of the room and catch up with myself.
‘Jamie?’ I shout, one more time.
Nothing.
He’s not in the living room, not outside by the pool or on the veranda. I run up the stairs to the first floor and shout up to the eaves. Still nothing. In case he’s ignoring me, I go up and pop my head round our bedroom door. His bags are there, a backpack and a smaller rucksack, full of his stuff and ready to go. That’s not encouraging – he really is leaving – but he hasn’t left yet. Good. I head back downstairs and out of the back door, to the only other place he could possibly be.
I stand at the bottom of the stairs that lead down to the beach and watch Jamie. Marvel at him, really. He’s standing at the water’s edge, throwing stones into the sea. He’s wearing his ratty white vest, the one that shows his nipples, and a pair of baggy surfboarder shorts. He’s beautiful. Not handsome – beautiful. Tall and broad and strong and manly, but he moves elegantly, softly. There’s a grace to the way he bends to pick up a stone, brings back his thick masculine arm, the flex of the muscles in his shoulders as he pings it back and flings it towards the water. He does it, over and over again, until he stops suddenly, like he can sense me. Without turning round he yells, ‘It’s rude to stare.’
I take that as an olive branch, a signal that it’s okay for me to approach. I pad down across the sand and stand beside him.
‘How could you tell I was there?’ I say.
He doesn’t look at me, just tips his head and replies, ‘I always know where you are.’ Jamie picks up another pebble and lobs it at the ocean. ‘I hate it,’ he says. I don’t know what he means. ‘I hate always knowing where you are, but I do.’ Ah . ‘It makes me feel pathetic and needy. I don’t want to be this aware of you. I don’t want to be this in … awe of you. But it won’t go away.’
‘Jamie …’ I say. He still isn’t looking at me. I reach out a hand to his, but he pulls away, like my touch causes him physical pain.
‘It won’t go away,’ he repeats. ‘And it hasn’t gone away since the day I first met you. I remember it so clearly, out on your back lawn. You were still at school. Sixteen or seventeen?’
‘Eighteen,’ I say.
‘Well, at twenty-three I was too old for you. Not that my age mattered. You were always out of reach, never interested.’
I watch him as he speaks, all of this pouring out of him towards the horizon like it’s a relief finally to be able to say it.
‘Will you sit with me?’ I ask. ‘Can we sit and talk?’
I gesture to the sand and Jamie nods, lowering himself to the ground and burying his toes. It’s not as hot down here – the sea breeze keeps it cool, the promises of secrets safe in the wind. I flop down next to him, hugging my knees to my chest.
‘I’ve always thought you thought I was just Laurie’s annoying little sister. I didn’t know he’d warned you to stay away …’
‘Yes, he did,’ Jamie says slowly, chewing over the fact like a Brussels sprout he doesn’t want, but feels he should have, for balance.
‘He’s got a black eye, you know.’
I wait for him to smile, or laugh, or say something to cut the tension, but he doesn’t. He pulls his own knees to his chest and looks up to the sky. Sadly he says, ‘I’ve fucked it.’
‘No, you haven’t,’ I say. ‘Jamie …’
‘I have,’ he insists. ‘Everything I was worried about has come to pass, all because I followed my bloody pecker .’
‘Nobody says pecker ,’ I tell him.
‘I’m trying to be polite,’ Jamie counters.
I bash my shoulder gently into his. ‘There’s no airs and graces with me,’ I say.
‘I know,’ Jamie nods. ‘That’s why I …’
I hold my breath. Is he going to say it? But no, he doesn’t. He doesn’t finish his sentence, just leaves it to hang between us. But it’s unfair of me to expect him to properly get into his feelings when I haven’t. I need to lay out my feelings for him, first. And tell him what happened.
‘I didn’t write that note to you at Christmas. Laurie did. And he sent me the same thing. So I’ve spent this whole time thinking you changed your mind at Christmas, but I assume you thought the same about me?’
‘I did,’ he nods. ‘I can’t believe Laurie would do that. That’s … awful, for both of us. To make me think you were playing with me, blowing hot and cold.’
‘Laurie’s mission was well and truly accomplished.’
‘But why would Laurie do that?’ Jamie asks. ‘I’m his friend .’
‘You can talk to Laurie about that,’ I say. ‘But for now, Jamie, can I say some things?’
‘You can,’ he replies. ‘I’m listening.’
‘Can I tell you some things from under the shade of that tree?’ I press on. ‘Because I don’t have lotion on and I am burning up right now.’
And that’s it – that’s the thing that makes him laugh. He chuckles and gets up, holding out a hand to pull me up, too. Even when I’m upright, he doesn’t let go, and it feels promising that we can walk hand-in-hand to the shade in this way. It makes me think that I want this. I always want to be holding Jamie Kramer’s hand. It fits so well.
We settle down on a big piece of driftwood, in the shade of a tree. And it’s then that I begin my speech.
‘I remember the first day we met, too,’ I say. ‘Nobody in the world had ever asked me questions and actually listened to the answers. You smiled when you talked to me, and made eye-contact like you couldn’t believe what you were looking at. And I was an idiot, because I was eighteen and I didn’t know how rare that look is. How special. I should have fought for it, not listened to the banter of my brothers.’
Jamie looks at me, and because we’re seated side-by-side, it means our faces are close. Not close enough to kiss, but closer than a friend’s should be. His eyes roam my face, and it’s that exact look I am talking about. He looks at me like he’s worried it might be the last time, so he has to drink in every detail.
‘Over the years I think I convinced myself I hated you. It just became easier to say that because I could tell you were keeping your distance. And I couldn’t bear to think I might have these feelings that you didn’t. That would have been humiliating – especially if my family found out. And then at Christmas I suddenly realised I had no idea why I’d ever tried to stay out of your way, or deny what I think has always, for me, been there. It’s made me feel insane. Truly bonkers. And then after I thought you pied me off … I egged your car.’
‘Wait. You egged my car? I thought that was kids from the village!’
‘I was mad – it just sort of happened.’
‘Well, I was too busy being upset that you’d pied me off to care.’
‘I would never. No! And I’m glad you weren’t upset by the car – I was humiliated and tipsy. Not my finest hour.’
‘Nothing a car wash couldn’t fix,’ he says.
‘And then you showed up on my family holiday,’ I continue. ‘And I was determined not to feel a thing. But I do. And I thank god you kissed me that night, because it turns out everyone has known this for a while and I am only just catching on.’
‘To what?’ Jamie says and he’s closer now – an inch, max, between our noses – and his gaze flickers to my mouth, and I want to launch myself onto him, right here, right now. But first I have to say the thing I am no longer terrified of being true.
‘That I am head-over-heels for you, Jamie Kramer, and it’s been that way for a very, very long time.’
Tears fill his eyes. He says, ‘Really?’
‘Yes! I had to tell you before you left,’ I whisper, tears filling my own eyes now. ‘I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. And I can’t hold it in any more.’
Jamie doesn’t say anything for a minute, and I feel every second ticking by. I can’t rush him – it wouldn’t be fair. But I do watch him process what I’ve said, turning over my admission in his mind. He looks out to sea, down at his hands, then swiftly at me, with his trademark half-unreadable stare. Then he smiles.
Shaking his head, he says, ‘I’m head-over-heels for you, too.’
I don’t know how I thought it might feel to hear a wonderful, handsome, kind and funny man tell me that, but it feels a hundred times better than any song I’ve ever heard or any movie I’ve ever seen. I let out a small squee -like sound of happiness, and Jamie laughs.
‘It was like freaking lightning striking when we met. You were wearing denim shorts and a red vest top.’
He remembers what I was wearing? That’s funny. Because I remember what he was wearing, too.
‘You had on cargo shorts,’ I say. ‘And a Ramones T-shirt.’
He looks at me, his tongue darting out over those full lips, happy that I have these memories, too.
‘I’m sorry for everything,’ I tell him.
He holds out a hand, which, seated so closely, is hard to do. It means his palm is very close to his stomach, so when I reach out to take it, my knuckles brush his T-shirt.
‘Truce?’ he says.
‘Truce,’ I reply.
We shake hands, grinning like idiots, and neither of us wants to be the one to let go first. He gives a gentle tug, so that our hands are entwined in his lap and I’m leaning closer to him.
I release my hand from his and cup his face, a hand up either cheek. I pull his mouth to mine, softly and with care, kissing him with every feeling I have in my body, slowly, slowly, slowly, admiring every inch of his chin, his stubble, his chiselled cheekbones, the way he tastes like oranges and smells like spice. He pulls on the back of my neck and it makes us both laugh, but we don’t break apart. It’s him and me, and I have no idea what this means now, but I know I feel safe. Like anything is possible. Like if it’s going to be him and me, nothing can go wrong.
I lose myself in the kiss until a roar of applause forces us apart. My family. Mum, Dad, Alex, Laurie and Kate are standing by the bottom of the villa’s steps, cheering us on with glee. Even Laurie looks happy.
‘Finally!’ shouts Dad, and I bury my face in Jamie’s T-shirt. I’m not embarrassed to be with him, or ashamed that everyone has seen, but the things I want to do to this man sitting beside me … I don’t want my family reading all these filthy thoughts I’m having. That would be embarrassing.
I see that they’ve all got beach chairs and blankets, the Bluetooth speaker and a cool box of drinks, so I sit with my head on Jamie’s shoulder, looking at the sea as they set up a small way from us, laughing and joking and generally carrying on as if the most perfect thing in the world hasn’t just happened.
Eventually, though, I have to ask, ‘So … are you really leaving?’
Jamie uses a finger to guide my face in his direction and nods. ‘I am,’ he says. ‘It’s time.’
My heart sinks. ‘Okay,’ I reply. Maybe this means we have to put things on pause for a while, then. I can’t expect him to drop everything for me. Although I suppose I thought he might. Maybe acknowledging our feelings will have to be enough.
‘I think you should come with me, though,’ he says, eyes alight with mischief.
‘Ha ha,’ I say. ‘Sure. I’ll simply throw my bikini in my bag …’ I can tell by the way he’s looking at me, though, that he’s not kidding. ‘But,’ I say, because of course this is ridiculous, ‘I don’t know anything about sailing!’
‘I can teach you,’ Jamie says, as if it’s the most obvious thing ever. ‘I didn’t know how to sail until somebody taught me.’
‘Is it even allowed?’ I ask. ‘Won’t the boat’s owner mind?’
Jamie shrugs. ‘She’s not there,’ he says. ‘That’s the point. I just have to get the boat to her in one piece. I mean, she won’t pay you or anything.’
‘I have savings,’ I say, before I can stop myself.
‘You’ll be fed …’ Jamie adds. ‘Fuck it, Flo. What else have you got planned? No pressure, okay? But I love you. And you love me. And it would be a shame not to spend the rest of the summer having more of that lovely sex.’ I hit his arm. But he has a point. It is lovely sex. ‘It’s up to you.’
I shake my head, my heart beating out of my chest to let me know what I should do.
‘How long do I have to decide?’ I ask.
‘Half an hour.’
I blink. Okay. I’ve never been impulsive before or jumped without looking in my life. What was it Mum said? Sometimes a pause is better than a misstep? Well, I don’t think that’s true. Missteps are what life is made of. The adventure of not knowing and trusting I’ll be okay is the point. And it’s then that it hits me – I don’t feel anxious about this one tiny bit. I trust it will all work out. I’m okay. I’m okay, I’m okay, I’m okay.
‘Sold,’ I tell Jamie, standing up. I offer him a hand to pull him up, too. ‘Let me go get my things.’
‘Not without another kiss,’ Jamie says, pulling me towards him and gripping me by the butt. ‘To seal the deal,’ he insists, planting his lips on mine.
‘Get a room!’ Laurie yells, from across the way.
Jamie and I break apart with a laugh.
‘We’ll do one better,’ I yell back. Laurie frowns, not understanding. ‘We’ll get a boat!’ I say.