Chapter 16
SAMMIE
I would be lying if I said I wasn’t grateful that my mum wasn’t in our cabin when I arrived to get changed.
I darted from Nico’s cabin to mine and Mum’s, still only wearing his T-shirt, which now that I’m really looking at it, I can tell is a War Zombies T-shirt.
I know it’s a huge video game franchise, not that I’ve ever played it.
I know from pop culture (and the name, obviously) that the aim of the game is to mindlessly murder hordes of zombies.
To be honest with you, it sounds almost therapeutic.
I can see myself now, after a long day at work, going on a rampage with a shotgun. Oh, in the game, obviously.
It’s funny, if Nico sells video games for a living, then he technically just used me as a sort of comparatively small travelling billboard. I wonder if they gave it to him for free at work, if it’s special to him – either way, it’s kind of him to let me borrow it.
I keep looking at myself in the mirror, asking myself, Sammie, why oh why did you choose last night of all nights to become a sleep snuggler?
I’ve never been a snuggler – I’ve never really had anyone good to snuggle – but you would think if I had form for it, I would have invaded my mum’s space too.
Oh, it just had to be with Nico, didn’t it?
Of all the people I could embarrass myself in front of, why wouldn’t it be anyone but him?
I drag both hands over my face with a groan. Make-up, that’s what I need, to hide the surely permanent pinkness in my cheeks.
What must Nico think of me? Seriously. Because there are only so many ways to interpret why I did what I did, and none of them are especially dignified.
Maybe he thinks I’m secretly obsessed with him.
Maybe he thinks I orchestrated the entire thing deliberately.
Or maybe he thinks I’m just a regular-degular pervert.
I grab my make-up and head into the bathroom before I can spiral properly.
The en-suite mirror is not my friend this morning. It’s too brutally honest. I splash cold water across my face and stare at myself for a second.
The more I think about it – and you just know I’m overthinking it – the more I feel like Nico can’t possibly think I set all of this up because I’m into him.
If I remember rightly – and we did have quite a few drinks, so forgive me if I’m a little hazy on the details – Nico was the one who suggested this ridiculous plan in the first place.
If anyone is the pervert, it’s him, surely?
That said, I didn’t shut it down, I went along with it.
I willingly went to bed with him, slept in his bed, draped my body over his while the poor man slept.
I still can’t believe I did that – I swear it was an accident, that I did it in my sleep, but then again I did notice how good he smelt, how comfortable his chest was to lie on – but that’s all circumstantial. I absolutely did not do it on purpose.
I put on enough make-up to stop myself looking like one of the zombies on Nico’s T-shirt, brush the knots from my hair and put on one of my dresses. I could very nearly pass for a human.
I finish getting dressed and take a few deep breaths before leaving the cabin. Right – time to get this show back on the road.
The deck is already flooded with the bright morning sun when I finally emerge outside. I love the way the sun makes the whole marina twinkle. Light bounces off the water, the shiny yachts, the metal fixings – I saw light pinging off a woman’s huge diamond ring yesterday. Only in Monte Carlo, eh?
The smell of breakfast hits me immediately. Ohhh, it smells so good.
Breakfast is served, already waiting at the table for me, and so are Mum, Hank and Nico.
Nico looks cool, calm and composed. I don’t know how he does it. I can feel the contents of my stomach fizzing in a way that I desperately hope doesn’t interfere with my breakfast.
‘Morning – again,’ Hank says, far too brightly.
‘Morning,’ I reply cautiously.
‘Good morning, sweetheart,’ Mum says. ‘Did you sleep well?’
I can’t help but swap a glance with Nico before I answer.
‘Very well, thank you,’ I reply.
Then I notice the table properly – well, what’s on the table. It’s a full English breakfast. Sausages, bacon, eggs, mushrooms, hash browns, toast, beans, tomatoes – the works.
‘Oh my gosh,’ I say before I can stop myself.
I’m always pleased to see breakfast, but turns out this is the exact thing I want to eat.
Hank grins, proud of himself.
‘I thought you two might appreciate a little bit of home,’ he says. ‘There’s an English section in the supermarket. Tiny little shelf tucked near the back. They sell tins of baked beans – cost me about ten euros for a tin.’
‘Worth it though,’ Nico says, taking a sip of coffee.
‘Yeah, I would have paid double,’ I say, intoxicated by the smell.
‘They feel sort of forbidden here – I think that’s what makes them so much more exciting than usual,’ Nico adds.
I can appreciate that – still, I laugh.
‘I don’t think anyone has ever considered baked beans to be so naughty,’ I joke, nudging him with my elbow.
As he laughs, I look over at our parents and notice that they’re staring – really staring, like they’re not quite sure what they’re looking at. My time to shine, I guess.
I reach over Nico for the orange juice, but pause deliberately on my way.
‘Babe, hold still,’ I say, leaning slightly towards Nico.
He turns his head just enough for me to catch a tiny flicker of understanding in his expression. He knows the game.
I brush my fingers lightly against his cheek.
‘You had something there,’ I tell him. ‘I think it was one of my hairs.’
‘Well, they do get everywhere,’ he replies with a smile. ‘There’s me thinking you were just looking for another excuse to touch me…’
His eyebrows lift slightly behind the sunglasses.
‘It’s a miracle I managed to tear my hands off you after last night,’ I reply.
Oh booooy. I can physically feel Mum’s eyes burning holes into the side of my head.
Either Hank drops his fork in shock, or it’s just a coincidence.
I can’t believe those words just left my lips.
I don’t think I would ever say that in front of anyone, definitely not my own mum, or the dad of the man I’m talking about.
‘Careful,’ Nico warns playfully. ‘You’ll embarrass me.’
‘Oh, I think that ship sailed when your father walked in on us this morning.’
My mum picked the wrong moment to sip her coffee. She coughs and splutters.
I get it, she’s shocked, I am too. I can’t believe I’m playing these silly games with Nico – at least I have the advantage of knowing it’s all fake.
That said, part of me genuinely wants the yacht to spontaneously sink so we can all go home.
‘Anyone want any sauce?’ Hank says, brandishing the ketchup.
I dread to think how much that cost him.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to say ‘we’re saucy enough’ but I think that would be a step too far.
Nico smirks, as if he might have been thinking it, but is obviously far too cool to say it. He’s so cool about all of this. I genuinely believe he’s enjoying it. Then again, maybe I am – just a bit though.
‘You look beautiful today,’ Nico tells me.
‘Aw, thanks,’ I reply – compliments are easy to take when you know they’re all part of the act.
‘I woke up, just before you, and I looked at you for a few seconds, marvelling at how beautiful you are…’
My breath catches in my throat – hopefully in a way that no one else notices. It’s all part of the act, it’s all part of the act. I need to keep reminding myself because, wow, that was so fucking charming. I think if anyone else said that to me, and meant it, I’d melt into a puddle on the floor.
I glance over at my mum, but she’s not uncomfortable, she’s not cringing, she’s smiling – and it’s maybe her biggest smile yet. She seems happy for me – for both of us. Both she and Hank actually seem really fucking pleased with this, now that I’m thinking about it.
We’re not making them uncomfortable, we’re reassuring them, confirming that all of this is just fiiine by all of us – well, it’s not. Our plan isn’t working the way we hoped it would.
We finish our food so I offer to clear away the plates – asking Nico to help me. Alone inside the living area, I break the news to him.
‘We’re not doing enough,’ I tell him.
‘We’re not?’ he replies.
‘They think this is sweet,’ I blurt. ‘Both of them. I think we’re making things easier for them…’
Nico rubs his chin.
‘Yeah, that’s not ideal,’ he replies. ‘So, what’s our next play?’
I glance out of the window at them. Mum looks happier than she has all holiday, and Hank doesn’t just look happy, he looks smug too.
I tap my fingertips lightly against the edge of my coffee cup while I think. Making them uncomfortable by being all over each other clearly isn’t enough, it’s not working in the way we intended. So, we need to make them uncomfortable in a different way.
‘We step up our game,’ I tell him.
‘How?’
‘Your dad suggested we all go swimming today,’ I point out. ‘I think, if we’re in our swimwear, cloaked by the water, if they think we’re like really, really all over each other… they’ll have to tap out, right?’
Nico laughs.
‘If you think that will work, I’ll give it a go,’ he says. ‘But my dad did see us in bed together, and I think he thought it was adorable.’
‘We need to murder adorable,’ I insist, scaring myself a little. ‘Less sweet, more spicy.’
‘I think I’m going to let you take the lead on this one,’ he says.
‘Happy to,’ I reply.
Because if there’s one thing I love, it’s problem-solving. We need blue-sky thinking, more out-of-the-box solutions. And if the worst comes to the worst, even more desperate measures.