Beach Cute, page 10
If he says, “I am afraid…” with that smug so-not-sorry tone again, I’m going to scream. Luna cowers behind me and Rory looks like she’s been slapped. I grit my teeth and square my shoulders. Mum and Gran would not stand for this. Absolutely no way, no how.
“But we paid for our tickets,” I say.
“You will not be charged.”
“We’re getting on that bus.”
Esteban’s expression is stony and unimpressed. “Of course, you are right, Miss Ho-dee. I cannot stop you. But here at Casa Dorada we reserve the right to evict you from the premises if you do not follow our rules.”
“Evict?” Luna squeaks, horrified.
Is he serious?
“Are you serious?” I bark.
“It was in the information pack.”
Yeah, in two-point font, I bet.
“Maybe we should just go back inside,” Luna mumbles.
“Look, we’re really sorry,” Rory says, stepping forward. She plasters on the kind of pitiful smile that says, Please forgive me. I bet she always got her way when she was a kid. Especially being the youngest of three. I bet she still does. “We’d had a bit too much to drink, and we just…We thought it was a bit of fun. We realize now what a mistake it was, and we’re really sorry. Er, siento.”
Luna corrects her. “Lo siento.”
“Lo sentimos,” I mutter, but it’s more of a question because I’m not sure that’s actually right. My Spanish is so rusty.
“Right,” Rory says, even though she probably didn’t get any of what we just said.
Esteban shakes his head again. “Sí, Miss Rory, entiendo, but I still cannot allow you to go on the trip to the Hidropark today. And I am afraid I cannot let you on the visit later this week to the theme park, either. We have certain standards to abide by here at Casa Dorada, you understand, and even if you had not used your devices, you still broke into a room containing guests’ valuables and private property…”
Oh please, I almost snap at him. It’s not like we were there to steal anything—and if they were that worried, maybe they shouldn’t have left the desk unmanned or the keys out in plain view.
Rory’s smile turns into a frown, but then she composes herself. Her smile is sickly sweet and she bats her eyelashes at Esteban. “Of course. We understand. But we’re still very sorry, Esteban, really. It won’t happen again.”
He follows us back into the hotel, and Rory heads straight out to the pool, Luna and I trailing behind her just like we did last night when she left the lounge. Rory throws herself down on a sun lounger.
“Is it too early for a drink? I feel a restorative G&T coming on. And I swear to God, if that man so much as looks my way again today, I’m going to swing for him,” she snarls, her sweet-as-apple-pie expression gone and her face twisted into something furious and ugly. “Cannot allow us to go to the Hidropark, my arse.”
“Can he really kick us out of the hotel?” Luna says, sitting down, too, teeth worrying at her lower lip.
“Well, if it is in the information pack…” I say, grinding my teeth.
“I’m so sorry, guys.” Luna looks between us, fingers fidgeting with the bottom of her T-shirt. “This was entirely my fault. It was my idea to go all Mission: Impossible and break our phones out, and all because I’m freaking out at the idea that my ex might be getting over the fact I broke up with him. Now you’re missing out on the water park, and I know how much you were both looking forward to it. I was, too.”
“It’s not your fault.” Rory shrugs. “We went along with it.”
“Exactly,” I say. “And besides, it probably didn’t help that I told Esteban off for not having someone manning the desk in reception. Your Mission: Impossible bit wasn’t the problem. We should’ve just taken our phones and run. But we sat there out in the open like idiots.”
“Idiots!” Rory concurs with a grin. “Seriously, Miss Lola. Listen to me and Ho-dee, and stop looking so stressy. It’s not your fault.”
“But—”
“But nothing,” I tell her firmly. “Come on, sit down. I’ll get the drinks in.”
“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 sneakers by the time you come back, having officially turned into my mum.”
“Oh God, no.” Luna scrunches up her face, visibly relaxing now that 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 water park? We can still have our own fun.”
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, 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 her and blushing. Then she bites her lower lip, face scrunching up. “He didn’t notice, did he, d’you think?”
“No,” Rory and I 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 also something hopeful in it. Like she doesn’t believe us, but wants to. She sits up straighter, twisting toward 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 Jodie to think I’m laughing at her. She 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, so I’m not surprised to see her looking 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 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-vacation text that he missed me, hasn’t sent me any more messages since. Is it really awful of me to have hoped he would message 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 and he would be grinding against her, the same 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 my imagination’s warped, nightmarish conjuring of the image of him kissing another girl has followed me ever since.
Suddenly I wonder what 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, not when we’re talking about Jodie right now.
But Liam 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 sun lounger and sits on mine. I bring my legs up and 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,” Jodie says a bit awkwardly, then 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 the conversation, but it’s so difficult when all it’s doing is reminding me that (a) I’m also going to have to “put myself out there” at some point, 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.
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 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 him. He told me that he missed me. Maybe…”
“Nope, don’t even. You did the right thing. Remember those sneakers? 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.
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 sneakers 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 in our relationship that grated on me and tell myself I should work on getting over him. The way he prioritized everyone else over me. Dismissed my feelings about my exam. And a string of other tiny, inconsequential 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,” she 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 and 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 photos 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.”
“All right, 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 toward her palm up, and I let her—“ooh yes, Gabriel, this line means you’ll find the love of your life, and this line here means she’s sitting right in front of you. And this line means you’ll have really, really great sex with her.”
I burst out laughing. “Oh man, please say that to him. I’ll die.”
“I’d die if I said that. Can 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 even more awkward. It’s lose-lose. This is why I don’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 sun lounger, 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 sun cream 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 laboring under the delusion that one spritz of sun cream this morning was plenty, even with her shoulders already bright red from yesterday.
