late.’
I’m a little lost for words.
‘Too early?’ he continues. ‘Would you rather go back to sleep?’
‘No!’ I practically shout. ‘I’m awake; let’s get going.’
‘Cool. Do you have a wetsuit?’
‘No. Do I need one?’
‘Yeah, you’ll be freezing. Don’t worry, you can borrow Amy’s.’
I don’t like that thought. At all. Are we even the same size? ‘I’ll be alright without one, won’t I?’
‘No, honestly, you’ll need it. She won’t mind.’
If she knew the dirty thoughts I’d been having about her boyfriend, or whatever he is, I think she might.
‘Right, I’ll see you in ten.’
Ten minutes? Ten bloody minutes? That gets me out of bed. I’m out of the shower within three, feeling surprisingly awake (thank you, jet lag). I put on my green bikini–I don’t have a more suitable one-piece–followed by a skirt and T-shirt and then I have a dilemma about make-up. I smear on some lipgloss and immediately wipe it off because it looks like I’m trying too hard. I toy with the idea of waterproof mascara but in the end I go without. I’m lucky because my lashes are long and dark anyway and frame my hazel-coloured eyes quite nicely. I decide to plait my hair so at least I won’t look too much like a drowned rat in the surf.
I scribble a note for Sam and Molly, wondering what they’ll make of all this, and then go outside, quietly closing the front door behind me. I perch on the hammock on the porch and gently swing back and forth while I wait.
Nathan’s beat-up station wagon turns up right on cue, headlights still on in the darkness. I pause for a second and watch him get out. He looks different to the image I had of him in my mind. But in that image he was barely dressed and doing things to methat right now are making me blush. I compose myself and stand up.
For a split second it’s awkward because we don’t know how to greet each other. He smiles and says hello before opening the car door for me. I climb in and hope the butterflies swarming around inside me will settle down.
The floor of his car is sandy and my Birkenstocks grate over it. ‘Sorry about the mess,’ he apologises when he’s safely settled in the driver’s seat.
‘Don’t be silly,’ I tell him. He’s wearing a faded brown T-shirt with a pink emblem on the front and long dark swimming trunks. I glimpse down to see if I was right about his footwear: yep, flip-flops.
He turns the key in the ignition and The Kaiser Chiefs’ ‘Oh My God’ blares out of the stereo. Apologising again, he turns the volume down.
‘It’s okay, I like it,’ I say, and turn it back up. After a minute or so, the stirring strains of The Verve’s ‘Bittersweet Symphony’ fill the car. ‘ Great song…What is this album?’
Nathan reaches across me and opens the glovebox. Several cassettes tumble down and almost fall out. He grabs for one, looking back up to keep an eye on the road and slams the glovebox shut, grazing my bare knee with his hand and making me feel light-headed. He passes me the cassette case. It’s still quite dark outside and I can barely see so I switch on the overhead light.
‘Do you mind?’ I ask.
‘Course not.’ Messy handwritten scrawl lists about twenty band names and songs, some of which I recognise, and one or two which I don’t. Rolling Stones, Radiohead, Powderfinger, Blur…
He’s got my taste in music, which makes a nice change from James, who usually has house beats blasting out of the stereo.
‘I’d love a copy of this,’ I say. ‘Don’t suppose you have it on CD?’
‘Nah.’ He grins.
‘iPod?’
‘Nope,’ he replies cheerfully.
Oh, well, never mind.
‘How did you get my number?’ I ask after a moment.
‘Molly keeps her address book by the phone in the kitchen. I checked before I left yesterday morning.’
So, he was still thinking of me when he woke up.
‘What time did you leave?’
‘I think it must’ve been about seven. I felt like shit all day,’
I’m a little lost for words.
‘Too early?’ he continues. ‘Would you rather go back to sleep?’
‘No!’ I practically shout. ‘I’m awake; let’s get going.’
‘Cool. Do you have a wetsuit?’
‘No. Do I need one?’
‘Yeah, you’ll be freezing. Don’t worry, you can borrow Amy’s.’
I don’t like that thought. At all. Are we even the same size? ‘I’ll be alright without one, won’t I?’
‘No, honestly, you’ll need it. She won’t mind.’
If she knew the dirty thoughts I’d been having about her boyfriend, or whatever he is, I think she might.
‘Right, I’ll see you in ten.’
Ten minutes? Ten bloody minutes? That gets me out of bed. I’m out of the shower within three, feeling surprisingly awake (thank you, jet lag). I put on my green bikini–I don’t have a more suitable one-piece–followed by a skirt and T-shirt and then I have a dilemma about make-up. I smear on some lipgloss and immediately wipe it off because it looks like I’m trying too hard. I toy with the idea of waterproof mascara but in the end I go without. I’m lucky because my lashes are long and dark anyway and frame my hazel-coloured eyes quite nicely. I decide to plait my hair so at least I won’t look too much like a drowned rat in the surf.
I scribble a note for Sam and Molly, wondering what they’ll make of all this, and then go outside, quietly closing the front door behind me. I perch on the hammock on the porch and gently swing back and forth while I wait.
Nathan’s beat-up station wagon turns up right on cue, headlights still on in the darkness. I pause for a second and watch him get out. He looks different to the image I had of him in my mind. But in that image he was barely dressed and doing things to methat right now are making me blush. I compose myself and stand up.
For a split second it’s awkward because we don’t know how to greet each other. He smiles and says hello before opening the car door for me. I climb in and hope the butterflies swarming around inside me will settle down.
The floor of his car is sandy and my Birkenstocks grate over it. ‘Sorry about the mess,’ he apologises when he’s safely settled in the driver’s seat.
‘Don’t be silly,’ I tell him. He’s wearing a faded brown T-shirt with a pink emblem on the front and long dark swimming trunks. I glimpse down to see if I was right about his footwear: yep, flip-flops.
He turns the key in the ignition and The Kaiser Chiefs’ ‘Oh My God’ blares out of the stereo. Apologising again, he turns the volume down.
‘It’s okay, I like it,’ I say, and turn it back up. After a minute or so, the stirring strains of The Verve’s ‘Bittersweet Symphony’ fill the car. ‘ Great song…What is this album?’
Nathan reaches across me and opens the glovebox. Several cassettes tumble down and almost fall out. He grabs for one, looking back up to keep an eye on the road and slams the glovebox shut, grazing my bare knee with his hand and making me feel light-headed. He passes me the cassette case. It’s still quite dark outside and I can barely see so I switch on the overhead light.
‘Do you mind?’ I ask.
‘Course not.’ Messy handwritten scrawl lists about twenty band names and songs, some of which I recognise, and one or two which I don’t. Rolling Stones, Radiohead, Powderfinger, Blur…
He’s got my taste in music, which makes a nice change from James, who usually has house beats blasting out of the stereo.
‘I’d love a copy of this,’ I say. ‘Don’t suppose you have it on CD?’
‘Nah.’ He grins.
‘iPod?’
‘Nope,’ he replies cheerfully.
Oh, well, never mind.
‘How did you get my number?’ I ask after a moment.
‘Molly keeps her address book by the phone in the kitchen. I checked before I left yesterday morning.’
So, he was still thinking of me when he woke up.
‘What time did you leave?’
‘I think it must’ve been about seven. I felt like shit all day,’
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