Page 40 of Girls Just Want to Have Sun

Matteo emits a husky laugh. It’s got to be one of the sexiest laughs I’ve ever heard. ‘Have you ever thought of living abroad?’ he asks.

I shake my head. I’ve suddenly become mute as we hurry along. I’m due on stage in twenty minutes and I have no idea what songs Nancy has picked out for me or any time to do a soundcheck. Nerves are beginning to spiral around my stomach as I try to focus on what Matteo is saying and not on how much his presence is interfering with my pelvic floor.

‘You probably have a busy career back there?’

I think about the three endless years I’ve just spent as a data input cleaner. It really is as boring as it sounds.

‘I’ve recently taken a sabbatical,’ I say, suddenly remembering that I told him all about losing my job. ‘So now I’m on a sort of spiritual journey.’

These are Liam’s words. He recently qualified as a mixologist. He takes us on what he calls a ‘spiritual journey’ most nights, while we are glued toBridgerton.

Matteo stops walking to regard me with interest. ‘What sort of things do you do on this spiritual journey? Are you searching for the answers to life’s profound questions?’

Christ but he’s persistent.

I can’t tell if he’s genuinely interested or terribly amused by it. I need to put an immediate end to this interrogation. I think about my recent pursuits over the last two days. I’ve been in a permanent state of anxiety and there’s been a lot of screaming. I’ve also committed my deep-rooted, childish fantasies about him to paper.

‘Erm, for a start, poetry… No, not poetry, it’s more experimenting with words and sounds… and thoughts. A spiritual journey of thought.’Phew.

He tilts his head to one side. He’s probably thinking that this is not a very long or very spiritual list, or very normal behaviour.

We carry on walking.

‘I mean, songwriting is what it is,’ I admit, my cheeks flaming. ‘I write songs and, well, I, erm, sing them to myself.’ I can’t believe I’m admitting to this. I should say something more exciting. ‘And I do extreme sports, of course.’Who could forget I’m a cliff diver now?

He looks impressed. ‘Right, right. And when did you… How long have you been doing all that for?’

‘Let me see,’ I say, staring into the middle distance as though I almost can’t believe it’s been so long. ‘Gosh. Wow. Since… since, well, since yesterday.’

I slide my eyes sideways to glance at him, but he’s staring straight ahead. He thinks I haven’t noticed, but he’s biting his lips together. I stop talking. There is no defence. I’m boring. Until two days ago, I lived a boring life.

He stops walking and turns to face me. He has such kind eyes. He’s wearing his Sunday evening eyes. The listening ones.

‘I’m boring,’ I blurt. ‘I’ve done nothing with my life, and I’m embarrassed about it, okay? Happy now?’

‘Connie,’ he says, stepping toward me and putting a finger under my chin to gently lift my face. ‘You are anything but boring.’

I shake my head. He’s being polite.

‘It’s only been a couple of days since we met, and you’ve seen me through my first panic attack. I ran you over. Very much a first for me. You’ve introduced me to a classy new game called “Tash or Gash”. And last night you revealed to an entire bar full of people, most of whom I know personally, that you’ve been stalking me on the internet.’

I blink worryingly at him. Nothing he’s said is inaccurate.

‘Tell me what’s boring about that?’ he says, his face breaking into a huge grin. ‘They’ll never let me forget it. Plus, you’ve been through a really tough time. Your mum died. Cut yourself some slack.’

In a heartbeat, he’s taken me from zero to hero. I have an incredible urge to hug him. I think my eyes must be heart-shaped, because he studies me intensely. He probably has no idea what to make of me. I’m sure women throw themselves, emotionally, at him all the time. He opens his mouth to say something then shuts it again. He gives my hand a reassuring squeeze. We continue walking in silence, me trying to stem the rising tide of romantic thoughts about him and him probably pretending not to see me looking dreamily at him. By the time we reach his old-lady scooter, he’s composed himself. I, on the other hand, am a quivering mess of unrequited lust.

‘May I?’

I nod as he comes in very close. Our bodies are almost touching. The moment is fraught with tension as he slides his hands very slowly from my ribs down to my hips, taking me by surprise. I seriously hope I am not misinterpreting his actions.

‘Checking for concealed weapons?’ I ask. My eyes close briefly as I focus on his hands starting their slow, teasing re-ascent, this time taking my dress with them. His touch is as light as a butterfly flapping against my skin. I gasp when he pulls my dress up to the tops of my legs.

He picks me up and sits me astride his moped in one fluid movement. The whole thing feels like foreplay, especially now I’m sitting with my bare legs akimbo, new lacy knickers boldly on display. And just like that, there’s an instant shift in tension. Matteo gives me a distinct look of lust that sends pangs of desire shooting through me. I chew my bottom lip as I stare up at him. For a moment, neither of us moves. His gaze slips from my eyes down over my body. As if in a trance, I widen my legs a fraction. This seems to send him into a spin. He inhales sharply.

He clears his throat. ‘Helmet,’ he bellows, breaking the tension. ‘Safety first.’

We put on our helmets and fly through the streets. I cling on tight and feel the warmth of his taut body under my hands. It’s no use. My every nerve ending is on fire. My hands feel as though they are literally burning through his suit. I take a moment to convince myself that this may all be one-sided. All in my head.

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