Page 19 of Girls Just Want to Have Sun

I wake feeling like I’ve been hit by a truck. Ah, yes, a cheese truck. For a moment, I forget where I am until my eye stings to remind me, and my back aches. I feel cold. My good eye snaps open. I am still outside on the sunlounger, but the sky is dark. I try to sit up and feel a stiffness go through me. My ice pack has slipped off and is somewhere near my neck.

‘Here, take some more painkillers.’

Alarmed, I discover Mr Window Seat is sitting right next to me. He’s holding out the tablets and some water.

‘Sorry to startle you. It’s just me, Matt, from the plane. From the accident, you know, whatever…’ He trails off.

I feel so groggy. Even lifting my arm is a huge effort. He leans in to help me sit up and puts the water to my lips sothat I can swallow the tablets. It feels a bit too intimate, but he smells incredible, and he’s got very strong arms. I tear my eyes away from his muscular forearms that look like they should have boxing gloves at the end of them.

‘Wait, you’re not drugging me to get at my kidneys, are you?’ I half-joke croakily. ‘Was there a doctor here? And did I eat some cheese?’

‘Doctor Sanchez is an old family friend. He says you’ll be fine. You told him your Spanish was very tall, that he was a lovely man and then you kindly offered to eat his entire family.’

So much for Spanish A level preparing me for real life.

‘Doctor Sancheese,’ I say dazedly. ‘Thanks for getting him to come over. That was really kind of you, Matt, erm… Matthew.’

Best not to get too familiar. In case one of us ends up in court suing the other for damages or some such.

‘No problem. And it’s Matteo,’ he says, watching me check him out. ‘My mother is English. I lived there for a while before I moved here. That’s why I have no Spanish accent.’

I should make enquiries about this interesting dual-heritage upbringing but I find myself staring at his bare legs.

‘Is that my robe?’

‘I took a quick shower. I hope you don’t mind. I thought you’d be out for longer, so I borrowed one of the robes.’

Instead of being outraged at all the liberty-taking, my immediate thought is that he was naked in my shower.

‘You were in my shower? Naked?’ I blurt without thinking, and I turn hurriedly away in case he can sense me sexually objectifying him in my dazed state.

Too late.

‘Doesn’t everyone undress to take a shower?’

Good point, well made. Now I’m picturing him naked and soaping himself extravagantly instead of answering him.

‘But I, erm, cleaned the shower afterwards.’

Now I’ve made him feel awkward.

I’m picturing him naked and bending to clean the shower doors. I’m definitely concussed.

He hurries to explain himself.

‘Don’t worry,’ he says anxiously. ‘I know this looks bad but I’m not trying to make a move on you.’

Charming.

‘I have no interest in you whatsoever, I promise.’

All I can do is stare at him with my one eye. There is now a huge uncomfortable silence between us. He peers down at his naked chest peeking from the robe that is swinging halfway up his bare thigh.

‘Sexually, I mean. I have no interest in you sexually,’ he says, pulling the robe together and clinching it shut as though I might lunge at him any second. ‘Not at all. I’m just trying to help. You’re quite safe,’ he says, hands splayed, eyes unsettled.

Oh well, I’m glad he’s cleared that up so… clearly.

I glare at him for a few seconds. I need to make it clear that I have not just been fantasising about him. ‘Well, I have no interest in you either.’ I sound very tit for tat. ‘Sexually or otherwise.’

---