The Meet Cute Method, page 18
I open my mouth to speak but he gets there first.
He says something so quietly I can hardly hear him. I lean in closely to try and make out what he’s trying to say.
‘What’s that?’ I ask, just inches away from him now.
The man looks down at my bikini. I follow his gaze down to my chest where, oh my God, one of my boobs has popped out of my bikini slightly. I’m as mortified as he is but, so that I don’t make him feel bad for alerting me, I quickly reach down and just casually pop it back in. Of course, any embarrassment this saves us is quickly undone when I hear Albi clear his throat. The crew member quickly scarpers. He definitely saw that, didn’t he?
‘Did you just flash the crew?’ Albi asks through an amused grin.
‘I, erm…’
I have no idea what to say. I stall for time by squirting sun cream into my hand before trying to rub it into my shoulders.
Albi takes the bottle from me before massaging some into my back where I can’t quite reach.
‘You’re a bad girl, Frankie,’ Albi whispers into my ear. ‘I’m going to have to keep my eye on you.’
Wow, he’s genuinely impressed. That is… that’s something. I get that he’s a bit of a bad boy, so I probably wasn’t doing anything he wouldn’t do, but I thought he would be furious at the idea of me doing something like that behind his nephew’s back, not think I’m cool.
‘Come on then, let’s snorkel,’ he says.
Albi helps me into the water and onto my float. I copy what he does, pulling my goggles over my eyes and placing my snorkel in my mouth.
I watch Albi dip his face under the water a few times before giving it a try myself. Here goes nothing.
I don’t know why I’m surprised that the water is so clear. It’s a definite shade of blue, but so easy to see. I can see so many fish – not that I’m knowledgeable to identify any of them, of course, but, wow, it’s fascinating to see, and so surreal seeing them up close and in their natural habitat like this. I pop back up again when I feel Albi tapping my arm.
‘Follow me,’ Albi says. ‘We don’t have to go far to get to shallow water, where you’ll see a lot more.’
I do as I’m told – I’m too scared not to. Albi taps me before pointing something out under the water. Oh, my goodness, is that a sea turtle? I can see it, not too far away, just happily drifting through the water. It’s beautiful.
For something that seemed so scary, I can’t quite believe how relaxed I feel right now. It’s the feel of the water, the motion of bobbing gently on top of it, the sun on my back, the beautiful colours and patterns under the water. I don’t want to go home. I wonder, if I asked Albi if I could just forget my life and live on the yacht with him forever, if he might say yes. I’m sure he would, until he got bored of me in, I don’t know, a week? Two, tops. As much as I’d love to stay on holiday forever, I can’t forget about my real life back in London. I desperately need to get something together for this article. But not right now, though, right now I’m just enjoying the ocean. Real life is a problem for future Frankie.
28
Max’s brilliant idea is really starting to take shape. He’s managed to get hold of enough bits and pieces of existing Optecho tech to make himself a sort of prototype. Nothing like how the real thing will work, but something that will simulate it. He has everything set up in our living room – his bedroom – but he’s clearly loving it. He has everything connected to the large TV, which means he’s working with a seriously big screen. I’ve been watching him and it’s fascinating. I’m starting to get a better idea of how it’s going to work – I really do feel like I’m learning things along the way. Watching the creation process is just what I need, though, to help Max write his pitch, making sure he says the right words to make his idea shine. It doesn’t matter how good your idea is if you don’t do a good job of selling it.
After working late last night we inevitably slept in – in our separate beds, of course – this morning. I was a little taken aback, when Max said that he had a surprise for me, and that I should get dressed and accompany him somewhere. I excitedly did as I was told before Max led us to the hotel lobby, where we collected his rental car and then hit the road.
‘When do I get to find out where we’re going?’ I ask him.
‘When we’re too far for you to jump out of the car and run back to the resort,’ he jokes.
‘Oh, God, you’re not taking me to that zip-lining place you were telling me about last night, are you?’ I ask him.
We may have stayed up late working last night, but we were chatting too. Max has been here on holiday so many times he’s practically a tour guide.
‘Well, I’m fully aware of the fact you hate heights,’ he reminds me. ‘So swimming with sharks is higher up the to-do list.’
‘I’m pretty sure I’m scared of those too,’ I reply. ‘I’ve just never had to think about encountering them before now.’
‘No heights, no sharks,’ he reassures me. ‘I really appreciate everything you’re doing for me, Frankie. Pretending to be my fiancée, helping me with my pitch, being nice to my crazy family. You’re doing all of that and I’ve finally remembered why you’re here in the first place: because you need a holiday.’
That’s not strictly true but, sure, why not, we’ll go with that.
‘So today I am giving you a holiday,’ he continues. ‘I’m going to show you some of the sights outside the resort.’
‘That sounds amazing,’ I reply. ‘I can’t wait.’
‘We’re heading south right now,’ he says. ‘It really isn’t far at all. It doesn’t take much more than an hour to walk, but then what was this cool car for?’
I laugh.
‘An excellent point,’ I reply.
Eventually we stop, abandoning the car before continuing on foot.
‘This way,’ he says as we approach a small gap in a gorgeous stone wall. It’s an intentional opening, but only about the size of a door. There’s a small blue sign about beach access, but otherwise no indication that we are anywhere in particular.
‘Okay, come on, where are we going?’ I ask eagerly.
‘Secret Cove,’ he replies.
‘Secret Cove?’ I repeat back to him excitably.
‘Yep,’ he replies. ‘So, it’s not as secret as it used to be, but it’s still incredible, look…’
At the bottom of the path, as we step out from under the canopy of the leafy green trees above us, Secret Cove is in front of us. A crescent of sand sits in front of rocks and then the ocean with views to die for.
‘This is… wow,’ I blurt.
‘Just let me step into tour guide mode,’ Max says, shaking his body out.
I laugh.
‘So… these rocks are lava rocks,’ he explains. ‘As beautiful as they look, be careful walking on them.’
The rocks are so dark and textured. As the water gently hits the edges, it couldn’t look more blue in comparison. It’s one of the most picturesque beaches I’ve ever seen. Nothing like the one at the resort, which I thought was gorgeous, but this one is just so untouched. So perfect. I can’t see any sign of anything. No shops, no bars, not so much as a portable toilet. There’s nothing but nature here.
‘That, over there, is Molokini, a crescent-shaped, partially submerged volcanic crater,’ he says as he points it out. ‘It’s uninhabited but you can go scuba diving there and things. That over there is Kahoolawe, another volcanic island. And this beautiful sand right here is where you’re going to sit and chill with me.’
‘Sounds great,’ I say with a sigh.
I decided yesterday that while the swimwear I have with me may not be the kind I would have chosen for myself, I shouldn’t worry about how I look in it, or what people think. I’m on holiday. I whip off my custom-made sundress to reveal the black bikini I wore yesterday. I imagine it’s some kind of faux pas to wear the same thing two days in a row, but yesterday was the most comfortable I’ve felt the whole time I’ve been here. I turn around just as Max is taking off his shirt.
‘What?’ I can’t help but squeak.
‘What?’ he replies, dusting himself off, checking he isn’t being attacked by some kind of creature.
‘No, sorry, it’s nothing,’ I say quickly. I didn’t mean to freak him out. ‘Sorry, erm… I was just surprised.’
Max looks behind him, then at me again, waiting for some kind of explanation. Shit, I guess I just have to be honest because you can guarantee, if I try to blag my way out of this situation, I’ll only make things worse.
‘I mean this in the nicest possible way,’ I start, but from the look on Max’s face, it’s like he’s bracing for something that is going to upset him. ‘I just didn’t expect you to have all of that going on. You look incredible – in a work-of-art kind of way.’
Max looks at his body and laughs.
I hadn’t really thought about it, because I’ve been forcefully booting all ideas of anything close to feelings for Max firmly out of my head, so I guess it hadn’t occurred to me that I haven’t seen him without a shirt on. I don’t know what I expected. I suppose I didn’t expect anything. I certainly hadn’t entertained the idea of him having rippling abs, plump pecs, and bulging biceps.
‘Nerds are allowed in the gym,’ he tells me.
‘I clearly missed that memo,’ I reply.
I sit down on the sand, lean back on my hands and dig my toes into the deliciously warm, silky-smooth sand. Secret Cove is no longer a total secret, there are a handful of other people here, but it doesn’t compare to the well-trodden sands at the resort. Here, because it’s such a quiet spot, and because it’s still early in the day, I’m sitting on fresh, untouched sand. It was perfect until I got here, which is an ongoing theme, I suppose.
‘While we’re being inappropriate,’ Max jokes, sitting down next to me, ‘you’re wearing the hell out of that bikini.’
‘Ha! Thank you,’ I reply, a little awkwardly. ‘My boss didn’t pack me anything with a bum. Or maybe she did but it’s all intended for a much smaller bum than mine.’
Max laughs.
‘No, I like it,’ he insists. ‘Do you know how white my bum is whenever I get back from holiday? If I had a pair of those, I’d be sorted.’
‘Perhaps we can sneak behind an especially big chunk of lava rock and swap?’ I suggest playfully.
‘Surely doing it in the sea would be expert level?’ he replies. ‘With the waves, the way the water is moving, I don’t fancy your chances getting those pants off.’
‘Perhaps you would have more luck,’ I can’t resist saying cheekily.
I don’t know if it’s because I’m over the shock of how we wound up where we are, or because we’ve been working so closely together, as well as a big dose of the overwhelming attraction I felt towards Max when we first met, but flirting with him just comes so naturally. I’ve been trying not to think of him that way, I really have, I swear, because it seems like he’s had his heart broken, and he’s in a fragile place, but these feelings I have, lurking in the back of my brain, just will not clear off, no matter how many meet cutes I attempt or sexy uncles I meet.
Max purses his lips and raises his eyebrows. Have I just managed to make him speechless?
‘Thanks for helping me,’ he says, changing the subject. ‘With work and with… other. Yes, I know I keep saying it.’
‘Well, I’ll keep saying you’re welcome,’ I tell him. ‘You know, if you’d told me that you wanted me to come on holiday with you and pretend to be your fiancée, I probably would have said yes.’
‘To be honest, as unbelievable as this is going to sound, it was never really my intention,’ he says. ‘I could’ve asked anyone to do that. I was all set for heading off on this holiday alone, with a bunch of different excuses lined up. But then I met you and you seemed like the break would do you good – and your name being so similar seemed like a sign. I called up my mum’s PA, said the ticket had accidentally been booked in the wrong name, got another one booked in your name. I thought maybe, if we arrived together, and I wasn’t alone with… things, for lack of a better term, it might actually be an all right trip. I just didn’t get chance to tell you, or my family, before they walked in. I know it all sounds like shit. I wasn’t even going to waste my time explaining. But, I knew, when I met you, that there was just something about you that I liked, that I wanted to keep around me. Being in a room with you gave me this high, this feeling, this energy I started feeding off, one that I didn’t want to give up.’
Max sighs. He almost looks as though he regrets saying it. I lightly place my hand on top of his.
‘I’m not saying you didn’t handle this kind of terribly,’ I tell him. ‘But it is possible I overreacted, ever so slightly, because I’m just so used to men being absolute freak shows.’
‘Is it really as bad as everyone says?’ Max asks, wincing slightly. ‘I know there are a lot of horrible people out there. Perhaps ignorantly so, I think men tend to think if it’s not them doing the bad things, it’s not a problem. I try to check myself, and my mates. I think that’s why I felt so ashamed, seeing your face, when you realised my family were here. I never ever wanted to put you in an uncomfortable position.’
I do genuinely believe every word he’s saying. Now I feel bad for making him feel like a bad guy, even though I know it’s not really my fault.
‘I’ve app dated,’ I tell him, pulling a face. ‘How about I tell you some of the nightmare dates I’ve had, just to make you feel better about yourself? You can realise that there are so many men, so much worse than you, and you can have a bit of a laugh at my expense.’
‘Oh, God, go on,’ he says, preparing himself.
‘Well, my very first Matcher date was with a guy called Smithy,’ I start. ‘The name should have been an instant red flag – who introduces themselves to a girl with the name their football friends call them? Anyway, we met up on Oxford Street, for a walk around the shops because it was just before Christmas so I thought it might be nice. Right from the get-go all he was talking about was sex. “I shagged this person, this is why sex is better without a condom, you’re wearing red lipstick, did you think we were going to fuck today?” Seriously all just… beyond gross.’
‘What did you do?’ Max asks.
‘I did what any sensible, mature woman would do in my situation,’ I reply. ‘I suggested we go for a walk in the Winter Wonderland, gave him the slip and then blocked his number.’
‘Nice,’ Max replies.
‘One guy turned up and hardly said a word to me the whole time, which was really weird, and there was another who seemed okay, until he told me that he was visiting from Manchester, and was only looking for a hook-up,’ I continue.
‘Not a lot of second dates, then,’ Max says.
I realise my hand is still on his. It probably doesn’t need to be, but I don’t want to move it.
‘No,’ I reply. ‘Even the ones that did… there was one guy. He was doctor, a little bit older than me, charming, good-looking – all things that make you trust a person, even though you shouldn’t. On our first date, we went for a drink together, it was going great, we were talking about our jobs and getting on really well. I promise you this is relevant but when I was in primary school, one of my friends stabbed me with a freshly sharpened pencil and the tip snapped off inside my finger. I remember my mum trying to get it out at the time, squeezing it, trying to work it out with a needle, and me being a big baby, crying, asking her to stop, so she did. Anyway, it’s still there to this day, so I have this tiny piece of pencil in my finger forever. I remember showing it to the guy. He took my hand in his and had a look at it. He told me he could cut it out for me, if I wanted him to, but that the scar would look worse than the little black dot did.’
It’s my other hand, so I hold it out to show Max the small mark on the index finger. I suppose it’s officially a part of me now. It’s been in my body for longer than it hasn’t. I was genuinely quite relieved, though, when he told me I didn’t have to worry about it.
‘Wow, that’s kind of cool,’ he says. ‘Almost like a tattoo.’
‘I later found out they’re called trauma tattoos, which sounds way cooler than it is. Anyway, once he had my hand in his, things got a bit weirder,’ I continue. ‘He kept my hand. I thought he was holding it, but then he started sort of admiring it. Eventually he said he was looking at my veins, working out what size cannula he’d use on me.’
I glance at Max. His eyes widen.
‘Wow,’ is about all he can say.
‘It was one of those things that, it’s so weird, you think it’s a joke,’ I continue. ‘I mean, it probably was a joke. He never actually performed any medical procedures on me, obviously. But we did stay together long enough to get intimate and… I don’t know. I wish we hadn’t. I should have known he was a weirdo, from everything I just said, but you really can never, ever tell.’
‘What happened?’ Max asks. ‘You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.’
‘It’s not a big deal,’ I tell him. ‘Or maybe it is. I don’t know. Things aren’t as black and white as people used to think they were – if you know what I mean. I wanted to be with him at the time… it just felt a bit weird and, after, I realised I was covered in scratches, bruises, love bites. You give your consent, thinking it’s going to be something and, when it’s not what you expected, well, you agreed to it, right? To something… I remember looking at my body in the mirror after, wondering how someone I was dating, who seemed so nice and charming and was an actual doctor – someone who was supposed to help people – could leave me such a wreck.’
Max, reading the room perfectly, hardly moves a muscle. Instead, he follows my lead, wiggling his fingers slightly so that they entwine a little tighter with mine, my hand still on his. It’s just the right amount of comfort I need.
