Page 38 of Enemies to Lovers

I shrug. ‘Yeah,’ I reply. ‘I’m trying to embrace Holiday Flo.’

‘Holiday Flo?’

‘Yeah, you know, like … letting loose a bit, having more fun. Going to waterfalls with Greek masseurs.’

Jamie considers this.

‘Sounds like she has fun,’ he decides. ‘Although, for the record, I do like Original Flo.’

‘She sounds like a bag of Doritos,’ I laugh. ‘Original Flo, Holiday Flo.’

‘Is Holiday Flo coconut-flavoured?’

I laugh again.

‘Coconut and regret. You know – for swimming out so far.’

It’s Jamie’s turn to laugh. ‘Yeah,’ he says. ‘That’ll do it.’

I laugh too and it’s not even that funny, but the laughing snowballs. He’s laughing, and I’m laughing, and then we’re looking at each other and laughing. I’m embarrassed that I swam out so far, and he’s shaking his head like he gets it and won’t push the issue, and it’s ridiculous, really, that we’re here and stranded on this little rock, in the middle of the sea, just him and me when … well, him and me when there is ‘us’, if that makes sense. But laughing together, it makes an ‘us’, a team. Jamie’s still an arse, of course. But at least he’s an arse I can laugh with.

‘Look!’ he shouts, pointing, and I follow his finger. ‘It’s Laurie.’

Laurie is, miraculously, in a speedboat. He’s got a face like thunder and is shaking his head, like a cross father. He cuts the engine and lowers an anchor, andwhen he’s done he turns and yells across the way, ‘Are you two fucking insane? Mum is about having a heart attack back there! You’ve been gone for nearly an hour.’

Jamie looks at me with a grave face, so I have no choice but to fess up.

‘It was my fault,’ I say. ‘Jamie was trying to help me.’

‘I’d have bloody let you drown,’ Laurie shouts. ‘Get down here and swim to the ladder.’

We do as we’re told in the kind of silence school kids fall into outside the headmaster’s office. Jamie reaches up to the small ladder and hoists himself up, turning round to lean over and hold out a hand for me, easily taking most of my weight so that I don’t have to climb much myself.

‘Are you injured?’ asks Laurie, looking at my arm.

I hold it out. ‘Jamie bandaged it,’ I say.

Laurie shakes his head. ‘You’re a liability, Florence, I swear down,’ he says.

‘Hey,’ Jamie replies, hitting Laurie’s arm. ‘It could have happened to any one of us, mate.’

Laurie narrows his eyes, unhappy at being contradicted, but choosing not to say anything about it. He turns on the engine and, as the speedboat powers up, I yell, ‘Where did this even come from?’

Laurie takes a breath. ‘Veronica Greenberg gave a guy further down the beach two beers and the rest of the egg salad in exchange for fifteen minutes’ use,’ he says.

Before I can ask if that’s really true, we speed off back to shore.

I don’t go out that night. I’m tired after all that swimming and my arm hurts, and I need some alone time. I’ve spent days with my family, wishing they’d let me get some peace and quiet – if Alex isn’t bombing into the pool, then Laurie is pontificating about something annoying, or Mum is chatting loudly with Kate, or Dad is whistling as he sorts out the towel on his sun-lounger. It is constant noise. They assume I’m going out to meet Adonis, but I’ve just stayed home, alone. He hasn’t texted me, but I’m kind of relieved about that. If he’d asked me to go out, I’d have gone, but for a few hours I need to be by myself. Although now, wandering through the house alone, I miss everyone already. It’s not a holiday home without them; it’s simply a place where we stay. I should have pulled myself together. This is the second dinner in a row I’ve missed.

I flick on some lamps downstairs to make it cosier, quickly shower and put on my PJs with a cotton dressing gown that I found in the linen cupboard, to preserve my modesty this time. I don’t know where the Bluetooth speaker is, so I can’t put on music, but I hum to fill the silence, rifling through the fridge and picking at leftover pasta, drinking two glasses of water, picking up and putting down Laurie’s book about football, which he’s obviously made no further headway on. I sneak a peek into Jamie’s room to see if it has dried out at all. Itsmells musty, like wet dog. I don’t think he’ll be moving back in any time soon.

Flopping down at the kitchen table, I text Hope to pass the time.

Me

Snorkelling was good!

Jamie isn’t bugging me today, either

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