Chapter 7 #2
‘Does that bother you?’ I ask, my voice a little wavery too.
‘Not at all. I’m glad to have someone so entertaining around, to be honest. I thought this trip was going to be difficult at best, but you’ve moved it up a whole level – to entirely tolerable.’
I can’t help but grimace at that. ‘Well, I can’t say “entirely tolerable” is what I usually go for when I’m hanging out with people, but hey ho.’
He shakes his head and screws up his face a little in a show of contrition. ‘Yeah, that didn’t come out right. What I meant was I’m really glad you’re here as my wedding buddy. I had fun today. I’m glad you persuaded me to go seabobbing with you instead of working. So thanks, I owe you one.’
Even though he’s still looking at me with that intense gaze of his, the heat I thought I saw only a few minutes ago has been carefully withdrawn.
If it was ever there in the first place.
He’s corrected his course and is clearly still set on honouring our pact to just hang out here as friends.
Disappointment floods through me and I’m surprised to find myself on the edge of tears. Which is a weird reaction.
Perhaps it’s something to do with the adrenaline from the activity running out.
Whatever. It’s probably best to cut my losses and go and shower now, even though I’m still kinda hoping he’ll change his mind and make a move.
I draw in a breath, ready to state my intentions, when he suddenly steps forwards, leans in towards me, then at the last second swerves to the right and kisses me on the cheek.
There’s a microsecond when my brain is unsure how to react to this, and to my horror I just freeze in surprise, my whole body tensing.
Clearly taking this as a rejection, he pulls back quickly and gives me a tight smile.
‘Okay. Shower time,’ he says, ‘see you in a bit.’ Then he strides swiftly off in the direction of his room, closing the door firmly behind him.
The sound of it rings in my ears for a moment and my mind whirrs.
That might have been the one and only opportunity to turn this into something more between us and I well and truly fucked it up.
Flopping onto the sofa, I cover my face with my hands and make a disgusted face at myself then repeatedly stamp my feet onto the floor in frustration.
Deep down, though, I know it was the best move for him to walk away. If anything does develop between us while we’re here, I need to know that it’s because he genuinely likes me and wants it to, not because he was full of adrenaline too and letting his dick decide in the moment.
Yeah. I need to wind my neck in.
And take a shower.
Restart the level.
* * *
Once I’ve done just that and got dressed again, I wander back into the living area of the villa to find Raffa already in there, also freshly showered and dressed in shorts and a loose, white cotton T-shirt.
The guy makes everything he wears look like a million dollars. Or maybe that should be a billion.
‘Hey,’ he says, a little distractedly as I walk towards where he’s set his laptop up on the dining table and is tapping away on the keyboard.
I sit down opposite him and stare out at the beautiful view while I wait for him to finish what he’s doing.
After another minute or so, he presses the last key with a flourish and looks up at me, his eyes still a little hazy from concentrating on what he was doing.
‘How would you feel about eating here tonight? I could do with carrying on with this.’ He waves his hand at the laptop screen. ‘Obviously, feel free to go over to the main hotel and have dinner there with everyone else if you’d rather.’
‘Nah,’ I say, thinking about how difficult it would be to have a quiet dinner without Raffa acting as my shield. I’m pretty sure I’d be bombarded with questions from teenagers about my show without him, which I’m not in the mood for right now. ‘I’m happy to eat here tonight,’ I say with vehemence.
‘Great,’ Raffa says, running his hand through his hair, only making it look even more sexily dishevelled.
Ah, hell. Why does he have to be so bloody attractive?
‘Take a look at the menu,’ he says, pushing a piece of card towards me. ‘Ahmed will be over in a minute to take our order and arrange to have whatever we want brought here.’
‘Thanks,’ I say, looking over the menu and feeling my taste buds immediately activate at the descriptions of the delicious-sounding meals on offer.
I’ve just made my decision when Ahmed knocks on the door and at Raffa’s wave of welcome, he walks in and comes to take our orders.
Raffa has obviously already made his decision because he asks for what he wants without consulting the menu.
I watch him as he speaks, impressed with his mix of cordiality and quiet authority. I can imagine him being a good boss. I bet his employees like him.
He turns to look at me and, aware that I’ve been staring at him, I snap my attention back to the task in hand and let Ahmed know my choices before handing the menu back to him.
He gives us both a polite nod then excuses himself, promising to be back with our meals as soon as possible.
After watching him let himself out, I turn back to find Raffa still looking at me with some intensity.
For a second I’m worried he noticed me spacing out while watching him, but my fears are dispelled when he says, ‘Sorry for being rude, but would you mind if I finished what I’m doing here before the food arrives? I want to get everything that’s spinning round my head down before I forget it.’
‘Sure!’ I say, more loudly than I intended, feeling my cheeks rush with a self-conscious warmth. ‘I’ll go and sit on the deck and read for a bit and let you do what you need to do.’ I get up awkwardly and head over to the coffee table where I’ve left my paperback.
I’ve deliberately brought a physical book so I’m not picking up my phone all the time while I’m here, determined to have a digital detox for a few days.
Goodness knows how many messages and alerts I’ll get when I go to upload the reels I’ve recorded here to my HelSkel account once I’m back. That’s the trouble with being so accessible online. The internet never sleeps.
I’m not going to even think about that right now though.
It’s healthy to have a proper break from working. Not that Raffa appears to agree with me on that score.
Stretching out on one of the plush loungers positioned under a wide parasol, I gaze out to sea, the brilliance of the turquoise glow sending thrills of pleasure through me.
God, it’s so exquisitely beautiful here. Like a dream come true.
It almost seems a crime to bury my nose in a book when there’s this view to look at.
I do though, after a few more minutes of staring out at the horizon. My mind is whirring with wayward thoughts about Raffa and I need to distract myself from them for a while.
It’s a good book too, a murder mystery, which is my favourite genre, so I’m totally engrossed in it when I hear a gentle ‘Uh-hum’ and turn to see Ahmed is standing behind me.
‘Your food has been delivered, ma’am, if you’d like to come in and eat,’ he says with a polite smile.
‘Great. Thanks,’ I say, tossing my book onto the small table next to the lounger and getting up, giving my back and shoulders a quick stretch before following him into the villa.
Raffa is still at the table with his laptop open, but when he sees me coming in, he closes it and pushes it to one side, rather than moving it fully off the table. I guess he’s intending to get right back to work the moment we’ve finished eating.
My stomach sinks at this inevitability. I’m craving spending more time with him one on one, but I guess that’s unlikely to happen.
‘Hey,’ he says, leaning back in his chair and stretching his arms above his head, then rubbing at the top of his shoulders and neck, which have to be sore from him being hunched over a laptop a lot recently. ‘Good book?’
‘Yeah, it’s great. I have no idea who the murderer’s going to be. It has me foxed,’ I say, sitting down opposite him.
We sit in silence as Ahmed puts plates of amazing-looking food in front of us from a silver wheeled trolley – grilled lobster with all the trimmings for Raffa and a delicious-smelling fish curry for me.
We both thank him at the same time as he gives us a small bow and excuses himself.
I notice he’s also brought us a large pitcher of ice-cold water as well as a bottle of white wine and two wine glasses.
‘Do you want some?’ Raffa asks, already picking up the bottle.
‘Sure, I’d love some. But just a small one,’ I say. ‘I don’t want to be hungover for the wedding ceremony tomorrow. It starts at ten, right?’
There was a full itinerary on a printed card sitting on the coffee table when we arrived here, which I’ve taken a bit of time to study so I’ll know what’s expected of me and when.
He nods as he pours a smallish measure of wine into both of the glasses.
‘Yeah, so hopefully it’ll be over by midday, including all the wedding photos.
’ He grimaces at this. ‘We can come back here and hang afterwards if you like. I’ll have to get my head back into work, so I won’t be going to the buffet lunch.
I’ll have to show my face for the dinner though, or there’ll no doubt be hell to pay. ’
A frustrated sort of sympathy washes through me at the thought of him beavering away in here on his own while the rest of the island parties. How awful that he feels so removed from the joy of this event.
But I don’t say anything. I get the impression anything I did say wouldn’t be received well, especially if I pointed out the pity of it.
Seemingly oblivious to how his predicament is coming across, he lifts his glass and holds it out to me, waiting for me to lift mine too before clinking them together.
‘Cheers,’ he says, then takes a long sip.
I take one too, then pick up my knife and fork and start eating. Now I’ve smelt the food I’m suddenly ravenous.
It seems Raffa is too because it’s a few minutes of us both wolfing down our food before he lowers his cutlery and says, ‘Oh, hey. I finally managed to get hold of Elliot earlier and I asked him whether he’s involved in the project to rebuild the coral reefs here.’