The Summer Switch-Off, page 10
‘Do they do tea?’ Luna asks, still fidgeting. ‘I don’t think I can stomach booze at this time of day.’
‘I wasn’t serious about the restorative G&T,’ Rory says, laughing, although I’m not sure I’m entirely convinced. ‘Get us some waters, Jode, and see if they’ve got tea for Miss Lola, even though it’s wrong, and basically criminal. Drinking tea next to the pool in sunny Spain. You’ll find her wearing a fleece and trainers by the time you come back, having officially turned into my mum.’
‘Oh God, no.’ Luna scrunches up her face, visibly relaxing now she’s sure we’re not mad at her. ‘I’ll be wearing my mac and wellies. Proper British summer gear, that.’
‘That’s more like it. Seriously, though, Luna, don’t blame yourself,’ I tell her, squeezing her shoulder on my way past to get our drinks. ‘We all effed up. It’s not the end of the world. So what if we’re missing out on the waterpark? We can still have our own fun.’
CHAPTER 13
Luna
‘Up until we got caught red-handed, last night was fun.’
Maybe not my first choice of fun, but … well, it was.
Stalking Liam’s Instagram and seeing what a good time he and our friends are having without me, convincing myself he’s already moved on – that was a bit of a gut-punch to say the least. But sneaking around with Jodie and Rory, the solidarity of a shared little adventure, definitely put a smile on my face.
I’ve finally stopped beating myself up about the phone jailbreak and getting us into trouble; the girls couldn’t be less annoyed with me about it, so I’ve cheered up considerably as the day has gone on – even if we did get roped into the morning aqua-aerobics class.
‘Definitely,’ Rory agrees now, and turns a smirk on Jodie. ‘And we saw you making goo-goo eyes at the bartender, missy, don’t think we didn’t. Your jaw was practically on the floor. I’m pretty sure I even saw some drool. Although I totally don’t blame you. He is gorgeous.’
‘Oh, shut up,’ Jodie says, shoving at her and blushing. Then she bites her lip, face scrunching up. ‘He didn’t notice, did he, d’you think?’
‘No,’ we say at the same time. Although, personally, I’m pretty sure he did. Jodie stared longingly at him half the night. But then again – ‘He was flirting with you, though, wasn’t he?’
‘Was he?’ Her tone is dismissive, but there’s still something hopeful in it. Like she doesn’t believe it, but wants to. Jodie sits up straighter, twisting towards us. ‘Did you think so?’
‘I thought he was. He seemed to be paying you a lot of attention.’
‘Isn’t that his job, though? Flirt with everyone so they buy more drinks?’
‘It’s an all-inclusive resort,’ Rory points out. ‘And even if it was his job, he definitely flirted with you way more than he did with me or Luna. Like, way more. Didn’t he touch your hand at one point?’
Jodie mumbles incoherently, but judging by her blush that moment is all too clearly embedded in her brain. I remember being like that with Liam at first. The giddiness of those early days of, Oh my gosh, he likes me back! All the effort that went into those initial dates, the overwhelming warmth in my chest of falling in love for the first time …
The nostalgia hits me hard, and I bite back a smile, not wanting her to think I’m laughing at her. Jodie doesn’t strike me as the kind of girl who blushes when a boy shows interest in her, or like she’s the naturally flirty type; I’m not surprised to see her look quite so awkward over it.
It’s been so long since I properly flirted with someone and wasn’t in a relationship, I bet I’d be exactly the same if I fancied a guy.
I wonder when I stopped flirting with Liam.
Was it before or after he stopped flirting with me?
The thought is sobering, and my stomach knots.
Maybe … I was too hasty in placing the blame on him for the state of our strained relationship and my own feelings? Maybe I should have tried harder. Or at least not placed so much pressure on him when I felt a bit lonely or annoyed about things. I bet I came across as a total nag and a real bore sometimes. Had I grown too comfortable with Liam, been too neglectful of his feelings all this time?
Liam, who despite the pre-holiday text that he missed me … hasn’t sent me any more messages since. Is it really awful of me to have hoped he would have messaged again? Is it weird that he hasn’t?
Is it weird for me to be dwelling so much on Liam when I was the one to break up with him? It’s selfish, I think, and it’s not fair of me – but …
But I loved him. I think I still do, maybe, a bit.
My thoughts circle back to the girl on his Instagram, the one whose profile I’d started to look through, the one I think might actually …
It’s all too easy to picture. Liam, with his big rugby-playing arms and close-cropped hair, dancing in some club with the lights flashing bright and blinding, and that girl, short and curvy like me, writhing against him to the music. His hands would be on her waist to grind against her, the way he used to dance with me. How she’d turn to him and he’d bend down to kiss her the way I’d grown so used to – soft at first, teasing, and then firmer, coaxing his tongue into her mouth while her arms wrapped around his shoulders.
It’s a vivid mental picture that’s plagued me for months, ever since he came into my room abashed and upset at three in the morning, stinking of sweat, vodka jelly and another girl’s perfume.
‘Luna, baby, I’m so sorry,’ he’d said, and I’d known, known deep in my bones. My heart sank even before he told me, ‘It didn’t mean anything, I swear, but – I needed to tell you. I’m so sorry, so sorry.’
And he had been. He’d been clear-eyed, steady, and he’d cried, and then I’d cried, too. He’d held me, reassured me that he loved me. I let him in and fell asleep beside him, though the warped, nightmarish conjuring in my imagination of him kissing another girl has followed me ever since.
Suddenly I wonder what the bloody hell I’d been thinking to let him into my bed while he still had another girl’s scent clinging to his clothes.
I feel sick – repulsed – just remembering, and push the memory away quickly. That’s a whole new panic I don’t even want to try to unpack just yet – and shouldn’t, I tell myself sternly, when we’re talking about Jodie right now.
But he had tried so hard to make up for it. He invited me out with him and his friends so I didn’t need to feel insecure if he was out without me, bought me flowers, made dinner even though he was a rubbish cook …
‘And you were kind of flirting back,’ Rory carries on, successfully pulling me out of my thought-spiral over Liam – at least for now. She gets up from her sunbed to sit on mine. I bring my legs up, sitting up to cross them under me. ‘When you weren’t too busy drooling over him.’
‘Shut up, I was not drooling. And I don’t think I even remember how to flirt. It’s been forever since I met a guy I wanted to date, or … whatever.’
‘By “whatever”, you mean bone, of course.’
‘Of course,’ she says a bit awkwardly, but sighs and sits up. ‘It’s just impossible to meet guys, I swear.’
‘Do you try?’ Rory asks. Her tone is brash, but I don’t think she means to sound unkind. ‘Bumble, Hinge, going to bars, asking your friends to set you up …?’
‘Not … exactly,’ Jodie confesses. ‘I – I barely even take a break to go home and see my mum and gran. I’ve been spending weekends catching up on sleep or on coursework for what feels like forever.’ She huffs, fidgeting. ‘Fine, I guess I haven’t tried to meet any. But that’s beside the point. It’s been a while since I put myself out there, okay? Knowing my luck, if I actually try to flirt with Gabriel, I’ll just end up asking him if he likes chicken nuggets.’
‘That is a vital question,’ Rory says gravely.
I groan, unable to shake the nervous, nagging thoughts circling in my brain. I know I should be listening to their conversation, but it’s so difficult when all it’s doing is reminding me that: a) I’m going to have to ‘put myself out there’ at some point, too, and b) maybe I should’ve tried harder to fix my relationship with Liam, rather than facing all that.
‘I don’t even want to think about dating anyone else,’ I say quietly.
‘Are you that hung up on Liam?’ Rory asks me.
I can’t work out if she’s judging me or just asking a question.
Yes. Completely and utterly. Maybe. Kind of. I think?
Except I don’t want to sound as pathetic as that makes me feel, so I say, ‘Not that – I just mean, when you put it like that, it seems so bloody daunting. I’ve only ever had one proper relationship, and that was Liam, and we’ve been together since we were fifteen. It’s been four years. That’s – it’s not nothing, but I feel like I threw it away as if it were. Maybe I shouldn’t have broken up with Liam. He told me that he missed me. Maybe …’
‘Nope, don’t even. You did the right thing. Remember those trainers? Not to mention the cheating? Um, hello?’ Rory pulls a face. I flinch; I forgot I told them about him kissing another girl, though I feel a rush of gratitude at the way they’re both sticking by me now.
With my group chats still bleakly silent, it’s clear that none of my friends back home have thought it’s worth sticking by me.
Although I don’t really know if I actually want them to back me up. Right now, I want them to tell me I was a fool and should beg Liam to take me back the second I get my hands on my phone again.
‘Those trainers were pretty shocking,’ Jodie agrees gently, and all I can do is roll my eyes. Liam’s idea of getting dressed up was wearing matching socks and clean underwear. Which I don’t say out loud because I know how shallow it would sound, but it was about respect, about making an effort.
Did he stop making an effort because I did? Or was it the other way around?
Still – even thinking about it irritates me. And when I do think like that, it’s a little easier to remember all the things that grated on me in our relationship, and tell myself I should work on getting over him. The way he prioritized everyone else over me. Dismissing my feelings about my exam – and a string of other tiny, fleeting annoyances and upsets before that. Texts that went unanswered, the nagging worry that if he wasn’t with me maybe he’d stray again, maybe I wasn’t worth sticking around for, that I wasn’t fun or exciting enough, or …
‘I bet he’s not even single,’ Jodie mutters, lying back down.
‘Who? Liam?’ I ask.
‘Gabriel,’ Jodie says.
‘Oh!’ Rory exclaims, waggling her fingers at Jodie. ‘I started looking up this place on LinkedIn to see if I could find him in the employees, to get his last name. I was going to try to find him on Insta to see if he had a girlfriend.’
‘That’s some serious sleuthing.’ Jodie almost looks impressed, though, and I am, too. I never would’ve thought of that.
‘What if he’s some weirdo who only posts obscure pictures of trees with really long, annoying captions telling you all about their day?’ I say, all too glad of the excuse to shove Liam out of my mind.
Rory scoffs. ‘Tell me about it. I mean, what if he’s a Pisces?’
‘You’re into horoscopes?’
‘Oh, please, like you don’t love reading yours and tying it into your day.’ She rolls her eyes at me. ‘Let me guess. You’re a Pisces.’
‘Did you look my birthday up on Facebook last night?’
‘And you …’ She squints thoughtfully at Jodie, head tilted to one side. ‘I’m betting … Capricorn or Leo.’
‘Alright, that’s just spooky. I’m a Capricorn.’
‘I do palm reading, too, if you want.’
‘Seriously?’ Jodie scoffs.
‘What? I think it’s fun. It’s a good party trick. Even the people who get on their high horse about it love it after a drink or two. Hey! Maybe I should teach you. You could read Gabriel’s palm,’ she teases, kicking a foot out at Jodie’s knee.
‘What, and –’ Jodie reaches over and grabs my hand, pulling it palm-up towards her, and I let her. ‘Ooh yes, Gabriel, this line means you’ll find the love of your life, and this line here means they’re sitting right in front of you. And this line means you’ll have really, really great sex with them.’
I burst out laughing. ‘Oh man, please say that to him. I’ll die.’
‘I’d die if I did say that. Could you imagine? And anyway, maybe he does have a girlfriend. I’d end up completely humiliating myself.’
‘You could just ask him,’ I say.
‘No way! That just makes it super obvious I have a ridiculous little crush on him, and if he does have a girlfriend, makes it really awkward. And if he doesn’t, but doesn’t like me back, which is just as likely, it’s still awkward. It’s lose–lose. This is why I didn’t do the whole dating thing. Life is stressful enough without – all that.’
‘Unless he doesn’t have a girlfriend and he likes you back,’ Rory points out. ‘Then it’s win–win.’
‘And pretty much impossible. Ugh, I should’ve had a nose on his Instagram when we had his phone. Besides, it’s not like it matters. We’re only here a few more days.’
‘Doesn’t need to stop you having some fun,’ Rory says, grinning.
Jodie pokes her tongue out. ‘Shut up.’
But, judging by the grin on her face as she dips her head to hide it, she’d love just that.
I can see Rory falling asleep on her sunlounger, despite her insisting every time I ask that she’s not. Those sunglasses aren’t hiding the way her head lolls forward and she snorts, waking herself back up abruptly. I probably wouldn’t hate a nap either, and frankly, I’m worried about Jodie getting sunburn. In spite of all the suncream she’s applied, her shoulders are looking rather pink. No matter how many times she moves our umbrella, we don’t seem to get any shade. And Rory seems to be labouring under the delusion that one spritz of suncream this morning was plenty, even with her shoulders already bright red from yesterday.
They don’t take much persuading to get out of the sun for an hour or so. The three of us start to slouch back to our rooms in easy silence.
In the reception, something drips from the ceiling, landing just in front of me. I wrinkle my nose, not really wanting to wonder what it is. A little further away, there’s a bucket, and more steady drips cascading down from a wet patch on the ceiling.
I exchange a glance with the girls, who look about as unimpressed and unsurprised as I am. It’s as if the hotel wants to prove how far from ‘luxury getaway’ it is at every turn.
Upstairs, Rory opens her door first, slumped against it, still half asleep by the looks of her. Jodie roots around in her tote bag for her key, and I turn to say I’ll see them in a bit.
Except Rory screams, and Jodie looks up, eyes wide, shouting, ‘What the –’
I hurry over, the three of us pressed into Rory’s doorway.
There’s a gaping hole in the ceiling, the debris fallen on her bed, and water is pouring down in an unrelenting stream. There’s a small flood of water on the floor which Rory sloshes through, making horrified squeaks, her hands flapping uselessly around at her things.
‘Oh my God,’ she’s saying. ‘Oh my God.’
She rummages through the broken bits of ceiling on her bed, clutching items of clothes, a shoe, a bottle of hairspray to her chest.
I think about the drip from the reception ceiling a minute ago, and look at the gaping hole above Rory’s bed. Glancing back out into the corridor, I notice the damp patch on the ceiling there, too.
The same thought must cross mine and Jodie’s minds because we immediately exchange panicked looks and hurry to our own rooms.
Jodie lets out a string of curses, and I can only stand in shocked silence.
The ceiling’s intact, but there’s water coming through anyway. It’s less aggressive than the river cascading onto Rory’s bed, but it’s right over the dressing table, drenching the things I put there. A couple of soggy books, my toilet bag and useless headphones sit in puddles of water. Nothing that can’t be saved, I tell myself, feeling a prickle at the back of my eyes and in my throat. It’ll be fine. It’s just some books, a tub of moisturizer …
‘It’s in my shoes!’ Jodie wails from across the way.
My stomach drops the longer I look at the water trickling into my room, the sound of it hitting my dressing table and the floor like thunder. I think maybe Rory’s crying. Jodie’s still swearing at everything, none too quietly.
Do something, Luna. You need to fix this.
I throw the wet things from the dressing table onto the relative safety of my bed, and then run over to my open suitcase and close it for good measure, just in case.
‘I’m going to get Esteban,’ I announce to the girls.
It’s a pitiful sight: Jodie’s kneeling in a pool of water, clutching a pair of suede sandals; Rory stands holding a pile of wet clothes and staring at the wall, helpless and hollowed out.
To Jodie, I say, ‘Help her get her stuff together. They’ll have to put us in new rooms.’
Jodie doesn’t look up, but after I run back towards the stairs I hear her getting up, and the splash of water as she goes into Rory’s room and says, ‘It’s okay, sweetie.’
And then, a beat later – ‘Oh shit, no wonder it’s flooded in here – you left the bath running!’
Downstairs, I’m relieved to see Esteban talking to a lady behind the desk at reception. I didn’t think I’d ever be quite so happy to see his toothy smile and twirly moustache, but right now I could throw my arms around him.
‘Miss Lola,’ he says brightly, ‘is there something I can help you with?’
I don’t even care that he gets my name wrong. I grab the counter, hands shaking. I can feel my heart somewhere in my throat.
This is not the luxurious, relaxing week I was supposed to have.
‘There’s a problem with our rooms,’ I say, my voice coming out ragged and desperate and not at all the calm, collected tone I was trying for. I shake myself and try again, fingers gripping the desk tighter.
You can do this, Luna, come on.
