Page 57 of Girls Just Want to Have Sun

Ged responds:

Cliff diving. Pole dancing. Jet skiing. Who even are you?

I glow with pride. He’s right. I would never have thought it possible last week and yet look at me.

The group are obviously used to hiring the jet skis and jump straight on them. They do circles and fancy tricks in the marina while they wait for me. The instructor takes me over to a demo jet ski and tells me how simple they are to use, in both Spanish and English.

‘We have only this two-seater left,’ he apologises, pointing to a massive tank-like beast of a machine. He clocks my eyes popping in terror. ‘But you share, so is okay. No worries.’

‘Share? Who with?’ I ask.

He points to the cabin just as Matteo emerges with his life jacket on. He stops suddenly when he sees me standing with the instructor.

My heart skips a beat.Maybe exceptionally good-looking men tend to stick together for safety reasons.

‘Connie, what are you doing here?’ he says, rattled. ‘Are the Dollz here too?’

I point to Nacho, who is showing off on his jet ski by balancing on one leg and steering with his foot. I swallow a huge lump in my throat. ‘No, they’re not. Nacho invited me.’

‘Yes. Of course he did.’

‘He didn’t tell you? Aren’t you friends?’

‘I’ll let him explain.’

The mystery simply adds to the charm.

I take in the wad of bandage stuck above his eyebrow and the black eye still at the purple and green stage and wince.

‘How’s your eye?’

‘About as good as your pole dancing.’

‘Yes, I’m so sorry about that. Did you get my message?’

Jesus.Has there been a time when I haven’t started a sentence to him with an apology?

‘Forget it. It was an accident.’ Matteo shrugs. ‘At least I hope it was.’ He looks sternly at me like I’m a naughty schoolgirl. Or maybe I’m imagining that. Tiredness seeps through my veins as I stifle a yawn. ‘Big night, was it?’ he says, unimpressed. He’s probably thinking ahead to me being half-asleep on stage at the festival. ‘Looks like I’ll have to drive the jet ski then.’

‘Presumptuous of you.’

I am not loving my tit-for-tat tone one bit, but I’ll be buggered if I admit to going to bed pissed at four this morning.

Matteo blows out his cheeks. He doesn’t seem overly keen on the alternative. Come to think of it, neither am I, but I’ve made the point, so I best stick with it.

‘No offence,’ I say, ‘but I’ve seen your driving and it doesn’t always end well for me.’

Matteo seems put out for a moment before he starts to laugh, holding up his hands. ‘Fair point. You drive.’

Two seconds later, as we float slowly towards the others, I realise I have not thought this through. The jet ski is supremely powerful, and I have not yet built up the courage to give it some throttle. Worse still, Matteo is sitting behind me so once we start going faster, he will have to put his hands around my waist. My actual body. My bare skin. I have gone to pieces, and it is greatly affecting my command of this whopping, great machine. My thighs are splayed either side of it, and I’m leaning forward as far as I can to reach the handlebars. I try not to picture my buttocks poking towards him in an inviting manner, rather like a baboon in the wild, presenting her bloated, vibrant red backside ready for mating.

Matteo is sitting patiently as I glance over my shoulder. While I’m relieved that he has grabbed on to the two side handles for support rather than my waist, I do feel his eyes are saying,Connie, for fuck’s sake, we won’t even get out into open sea at this rate.

So far, we’ve managed to share many monumental experiences in the last week, giving each other matching black eyes, smashing each other’s phone screens and all but ruining each other’s livelihoods, which is bizarre enough without ending up on a jet ski together.

‘I’ll turn this handle, shall I?’

He nods encouragingly as I give it a twist. The jet ski roars to life and almost throws us off as we speed out of the marina at a lightning pace. I get a rush of adrenaline straight to the head as the wind whips up my hair and seawater sprays out to the sides.

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