Chapter 13
CHLOE
I’m not sure what is happening. I’m not in love with a melon.
Eating it made me realise that I rarely eat melon like that though, with my hands, so viscerally off the skin.
I eat it out of a plastic tub as part of a meal deal because I think a whole melon is too much for one person.
But I think I might be lusting over the nice man running this holiday retreat who bought me the melon.
After I ran back to the villa this morning to escape the snake, I literally ran into the shower in my yoga gear.
I was hot and sweaty but also overwhelmed.
There was a moment by that silver-trunked olive tree when I wanted Ben to kiss me.
I wanted him to push me against that tree and kiss me hard and that’s not good.
That’s not what this week is about. I’m just fixating on the first man with a penis who’s been nice and shown me attention.
I need to cool down. I need sensible Chloe back.
The Chloe who would stand here and say NO!
One, he’s gay and dating an older man, but even if he wasn’t, it would be a holiday romance, and with the holiday provider too, which is sad and wrong.
You’re just lusting after him because you’re wearing very little and you’re too warm, I tell myself.
Do not invest time and your body in a week-long flirtation that will only end in you getting back on a plane.
I need to not be standing next to a pool, my skin glossy but basted in a very fragrant olive oil, staring at him with a wedge of melon in my mouth.
The problem is, I don’t know any other man like him.
He’s gentle, kind and it’s starting to feel authentic.
Do I also constantly look for the outline of his abs through his T-shirt and the outline of his calves?
Yes, I do that too. And that feels rude and intrusive. Watch yourself, Chloe.
After that massage, I think Zara was right, a nap is the order of the day.
Miguel seems to have found all the spots in me that needed ironing out.
My back feels flat again. Years of being hunched over a computer screen had killed my posture but I suddenly feel lighter.
Never mind that Miguel may not be a professional masseur – how would I know anyway, since I’ve never even had a massage before so I’ve no way of comparing his technique.
Or maybe I need another shower? I need to calm down.
I ran this morning and I never run so I should rest. I grab my gift bag and climb the stairs, hearing Zara splashing about in the gorgeous rolltop copper bathtub.
As soon as I’m in my room, I turn on the air conditioning and toss the bag on my bed.
I notice my laptop open on my bedside table, the screen glowing to show a few more emails have landed in my inbox.
And just like that, it’s like every bit of tension inside me returns.
Don’t look. My eye twitches as I see the notifications.
Replying to emails feels like a reflex. Why am I doing this?
I shouldn’t even have my laptop with me.
Why have I brought my strange work bubble to this quiet, calm corner of the world?
I head over to the screen, taking off my robe and kneeling down to have a quick scan.
I need time for the olive oil to absorb into my skin anyway. I have time.
Re: HELP!
Chloe, Julian said you could look over these drawings. I’d be ever so grateful if you could get them back within the hour.
N xx
When you were on honeymoon getting your glow on, Nancy, I don’t believe I interrupted that at all.
I didn’t send her emails. I let her be so she could have sex on her deck and eat all that fresh papaya.
If I signed off with just a ‘C’, I doubt she’d know who the email was from.
I open the attachment and scrunch my face up in response to how awful the drawings are.
She has no sense of innovation or care. I turn my head to the side wondering why she can’t even draw a straight line.
‘Hey,’ Ben says followed by the sound of a knock on the door. ‘I thought I’d just come and replenish your water.’
‘It’s cool, Ben. Come in,’ I say, for once not distracted by him but instead by the terrible elevations I see in front of me.
The door opens and Ben pops his head around, placing a bottle of water on the side table by the door. ‘Here’s some water but I also bought you guys journals and pens just in case you wanted to keep a holiday diary or write down your thoughts.’
As he says it, he seems hesitant, like it’s a rubbish idea, but I glance at the leather-bound notebook and the full set of colouring pens and smile. They are the kind of things that speak to architects: good pens and solid stationery. He then sees my laptop.
‘What are you doing, Chloe?’ he asks, stopping by the doorway.
I freeze. Mainly because of the way he says my name. It shouldn’t have that effect. ‘I’m watching a film. I did say I was hoping to watch more films,’ I tell him, turning my laptop to one side.
‘Which film?’ he asks, knowing I’m lying to him.
Think of a film, think of a film. ‘Toy Story—’
‘You relax by watching Pixar?’
‘Yes? To infinity and all that jazz.’
‘Lies,’ he says, smiling and nodding.
‘I’m checking in on some work emails,’ I say, turning around, a little sheepish after everything I’ve told him about my work. After this morning when I told him I was going to relax more. Even downstairs, I announced that I was going to have a nap.
‘Literally on your knees,’ Ben says. ‘There is a chair in the room, you know.’
I stand to attention. ‘I’m aware but I didn’t want to grease it up.’
He looks at me, his brow furrowed.
‘At least I’m working in a bikini,’ I say.
‘Close the computer, Chloe. Have that nap you were talking about,’ he says softly with his head tilted to one side.
I catch my breath when he says that to me. I think it’s because he’s trying to be kind. I hope he hasn’t heard that gulp that just landed in my stomach.
‘Tell me why I’m doing this,’ I say, my hands still hovering over the keyboard.
‘Because you care about your job. But you’ve not put in any boundaries. You’ve earned a break,’ Ben says, his tone changing to sincere, almost serious.
‘I know—’
‘Close the computer, pretend you didn’t see any emails, have a shower, a nap or whatever you were planning on doing,’ he tells me, shrugging his shoulders.
I carry on typing, visibly annoyed that work has this magnetic power over me.
‘Chloe…’ His voice is deep, attempting to be persuasive.
‘I might ask you to come here in a minute and literally prise this computer out of my hands,’ I say.
‘Really?’ He walks over tentatively, peering over my shoulder. ‘I believe that email is from Nancy, the one shagging the boss. Maybe think about why you shouldn’t help her.’
‘Because she’s a manipulative, horrific office leech,’ I say, my shoulders slumping. ‘And I am just enabling her behaviour.’
He leans over and tries to shut my computer but I suddenly snap out of my slump and reach over and slap him on the arm. Ben seems shocked but starts laughing. I cup my hands to my face.
‘Did you just hit me?’ he asks.
‘I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to do that. God, I really need a break… a holiday,’ I joke.
‘Good job that you’re here then, eh?’ he says. ‘Why don’t you give me the laptop?’ he suggests, putting his hand out to take it.
But I make a strange move where I grab it to my chest and can’t seem to let it go.
‘Chloe, now is not the time for working. It’s time to be on holiday. They don’t deserve your time, your energy, your skills.’
‘You know nothing about my skills,’ I say, realising I sound vaguely flirty. To distract from this, I stand up and kick my leg in the air, trying to make out like I have ninja skills instead.
He looks at me completely bemused, unsure why I’ve turned this into a strange battle of wills. ‘Are you trying to roundhouse kick me now? Over a computer?’ he asks, chuckling.
‘I’d win that fight all day long. I’m covered in olive oil, I’d be able to slip out of your clutches, like an—’
‘Eel?’ he says, unable to hold back his laughter.
‘Yes,’ I say. I’m still tightly gripping the laptop, like a swimming flotation device.
Ben smiles and gets me to sit down on the edge of the bed next to him.
‘Then tell me when does it stop, Chloe? You spend all of your holiday working until you go back to London next week and then you go straight back into it,’ he explains.
‘Don’t let it own you like this. I beg you to give yourself the break you deserve. ’
I pause. His words take hold of me and my once playful grin disappears from my face. ‘I hate that you’re right. How have I only known you for a day and you’re right?’
Ben adjusts his pose on the bed, keeping a respectful distance. ‘Was I too much then? Sorry if I was too much. I just hate the idea of you not relaxing like you should be. You’re still holding on to that laptop quite tightly.’
He’s not wrong, I don’t think my knuckles should be that colour.
‘That’s quite a grip. You’d be very good at rock climbing.’
‘Or a decent superhero,’ I say.
‘Does that make me the villain?’
‘You were never the villain,’ I tell him, unable to look him in the eye. ‘Maybe like a hot superhero villain.’
We sit there for a moment as I realise I may have said too much but yes, he is physically hot.
But I also don’t think he understands how a hot stranger summing up my life in a few sentences, understanding me more than I know myself, is immensely confusing and also weirdly attractive.
I look at Ben and put my computer down on the bedside table.
He smiles. ‘Well, that’s a good first step, Chloe.’
I sit on the edge of the bed, squirming slightly to have him so close, to have him say my name aloud.
‘Maybe.’ I take a deep breath and look over at my laptop.
Sadness overwhelms me. If I don’t have work, what else do I have?
And to have that feeling float to the surface is all at once depressing and isolating.
‘Can I ask a favour?’ I say to Ben. ‘You can tell me if it’s weird or not, but can I hug you? ’
He pauses for a moment. ‘I guess?’ he replies, his face crinkled with confusion. ‘If that’s what you want but—’
Before he can finish his sentence, I wrap my arms around him, threading my hands straight through his armpits, resting my hands on his back and my forehead on his chest, looking away from his face. He hugs me back, allowing me to squeeze him tightly.
‘You OK there?’ he asks.
‘Yes. You’re very warm,’ I mumble. I have no idea what to do because I’m deeply in need of contact, of just being near someone, but I think back to what he said about looking after me.
I’ve likely read too much into that. He meant look after like make me cups of tea.
Not in any other way. What has become of my mind?
Why does he smell so good? Why can I feel him breathing?
I panic. I release the hug and push him lightly away. ‘I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.’
Ben falls back on the bed, knocking over the gift bag Miguel gave me.
‘Are you OK?’ I say, taking a moment. ‘That was too much. I’m just… I don’t know.’
Why does he look so shocked? He reaches down, having landed awkwardly on the mattress but not before whipping out something from behind his back. Is that a… dildo? A rather large dildo. My breath catches in my throat and I cup my hands to my mouth.
Ben’s eyes widen like saucers. ‘Whoa, hold up there.’
‘It’s not… it’s not mine.’
‘It’s on your bed—’
‘But it was behind your back,’ I say, panicked. Wondering if he had it hiding down his shorts. It’s massive. How would that fit in anyone? I can’t say any of this out loud. ‘I honestly have no idea what that is.’
‘Well, I hope you do know what it is,’ he says, giggling.
And with that I laugh. It’s born out of shock, horror, pure hysterics but it’s nice to feel it in my bones, to feel a bit lighter. And for a small moment I can’t hear my computer pinging with messages. I can’t hear it at all.