Chapter 5 #2
He shrugs a shoulder. ‘Yeah, well, none of them live in the world I do, so I guess they have a huge capacity to be starstruck.’
‘So it seems,’ I murmur.
He leans even closer, like he’s worried people might be trying to lipread what we’re saying to each other, and my skin gives another rush of joy.
He smells so great. Clean and masculine and spicy.
‘So what you’re telling me is I’ve actually brought one of the most famous women on the internet right now to this wedding, which was the exact opposite of my intention,’ he says wryly.
‘I wouldn’t say I’m that famous,’ I murmur.
‘No? Exactly how famous are you then?’
Just as he asks this, one of the older teenagers, who’s been standing in a huddle of them across from us, breaks ranks and comes strolling over to where we’re standing, looking nervous, but beaming widely at me.
‘Ida Fury. It’s so amazing to meet you. I love your show on HelSkel.
I’ve been following you for ages. Way before you got so big.
I’m a massive fan. I can’t believe you’re actually here!
This so cool. My mates at college are not going to believe I’ve met you,’ he says, still looking nervous as hell – his cheeks pink, but his eyes bright.
‘Hey. Good to meet you. Thanks for watching,’ I say, stepping away from Raffa and flashing him a smile.
‘I never miss it. I’ve watched all of your reels. Can I get a selfie with you?’ he asks, his voice light and wobbly with nerves.
‘Sure you can,’ I say warmly.
He whips out his phone and we take a few selfies together, the kid checking with me before slinging his arm around my shoulders and pouting into the camera next to me.
‘Thanks so much,’ he says once he’s looked at his photos app and decided he’s happy with the pictures he’s taken. ‘Are you here for the whole week?’ he asks with clear hope in his voice.
‘I am, yes. Unless Raffa decides to kick me off the island,’ I joke, gesturing towards Raffa, who’s standing there with folded arms, looking bemused.
The kid just nods vaguely at him, like he’s of no real consequence.
Raffa dips a wry eyebrow at me in response, but I see a grin lurking there too.
‘Okay, great. Well, see you later, Ida,’ the kid says, backing away from us, then turning and walking back to the group of kids who have been gawping at us the whole time.
I turn back from watching them all slapping him on the back and leaning in to look at the photos he’s just taken of us on his phone to see that Raffa is full-on grinning at me.
‘What are you smiling about?’ I ask.
‘It’s funny how jittery and starstruck that strapping six-foot, hulk-of-a-kid was.’
I shrug, trying to appear nonchalant, even though the joy of being recognised and lauded is making my blood fizz with happiness.
‘What can I say? I’m adorable.’
‘You certainly are,’ Raffa says, still smiling. ‘Let’s get you a drink. What do you fancy?’
I stop myself from saying ‘You’ and turn to the bartender, who’s been waiting patiently for us to place our order.
‘I’ll have a Harvey Wallbanger please,’ I say to him.
‘I’ll just have a beer. Whatever’s good here,’ Raffa tells him.
The barman nods and moves away to start fixing my drink.
I lean in conspiratorially to Raffa and murmur, ‘I have absolutely no idea what I’ve just ordered.
I read about someone ordering one in a book years ago and I’ve always wanted to try it.
Now seems like the perfect time, for some reason.
Maybe because this is all so otherworldly and unexpected, so I’m making the kinds of choices I’d never make in real life. ’
‘You don’t consider this real life?’ he asks, his eyes flashing with mirth.
‘Well, no.’ I cock my head at him. ‘I’ve been swept away to a tropical island by a billionaire. That’s about as far away from reality as you can get.’
‘And yet,’ he points out.
I laugh. ‘Yeah. I know. My mind is a little blown right now, to be honest.’
He nods, then smiles. ‘It’s vodka, Galliano liqueur, fresh orange and lemon juice and if you’re lucky you’ll get a cocktail cherry and a slice of orange with it.’
I stare at him. ‘You just happened to know the recipe for a Harvey Wallbanger? Is it secretly your favourite drink?’ I narrow my eyes at him.
He laughs. ‘It’s not to my taste, but I’ve made a few of them in my time.’
I blink at him. ‘Don’t tell me, you worked as a mixologist in one of your many past careers?’
‘Got it in one,’ he says, leaning his elbow on the bar. ‘It’s a great gig, pays better than standard bartending.’
‘So can you fling the bottles around and freehand pour perfect measures and things like that?’
‘Yup. Well, I used to be able to do flairtending. I haven’t done it in a while so I won’t try it right now in case I brain you. You’ll just have to take my word for it.’
‘Oh, I believe you. I can see it in my mind’s eye – you, being cool behind a bar.’
‘Glad to hear you hold such a high opinion of me.’
I put my own elbow on the bar and move a little closer to him, very much enjoying flirting with him now I’ve got his full attention. ‘I’ve always had a good feeling about you. Ever since we first started messaging. It’s like we’re on the same level. Cognitively, I mean.’
‘Me too. Our chats have been a lifeline recently, if I’m honest. A much-needed break from the craziness of my working life,’ he says.
‘Yeah. Same. That’s why I liked connecting with you incognito in our chatroom.
It was great to talk without you having any preconceptions about me.
I needed a place online to chat shit about things I like, and don’t like, without the risk of being publicly called out for having an opinion about something other people don’t agree with.
It’s exhausting having to think about everything I say online, in case I offend someone.
Once we’d formed our little clique of two, I felt like I could be totally honest with you without putting my reputation in jeopardy. ’
‘It sounds like we’ve got more in common than we realised,’ Raffa says with a warm smile, which I feel all the way down to my toes.
‘It does,’ I agree, smiling back.
Our moment of connection is broken when the bartender puts a highball glass full of orange liquid in front of me.
I got lucky. There’s a cocktail cherry and a slice of orange in it, just as Raffa had predicted.
Thanking the bartender, I pick it up and take a sip. It’s a bit sweet, but pretty yummy, which is a relief. I was beginning to dread having to drink the whole thing if it wasn’t to my taste.
Raffa picks up his beer and clinks the glass gently against mine, before taking a sip.
‘To a fun week,’ he says.
‘Absolutely,’ I agree.
* * *
The evening flows well after that and we mingle and make small talk with what feels like the entirety of Raffa’s extended family, the solid weight of his arm slung over my shoulders a comfort, but also a reminder of how we’re not being entirely honest with these people about our relationship.
After we’ve done the rounds, we go and sit at the table on the edge of the now rather raucous wedding party, to eat a delicious dinner worthy of a Michelin-star restaurant.
We end up chatting with Gio, Raffa’s cousin on his dad’s side, and his mum, Raffa’s Auntie Kay, who are a lot of fun and really great company – especially as they talk nineteen to the dozen, barely requiring me or Raffa to utter a word.
In fact, the only time I’m compelled to talk is when Auntie Kay asks me to fill her in about who I am, after admitting she’s heard gossip from the other guests about Ida Fury being here and not knowing a thing about me.
This is said in good humour though.