Page 101 of Hot to Go

‘Have you really not spoken since half term?’ Max asks.

I shake my head. Complete radio silence. The only communication I saw coming was from the departmental WhatsApp group, of which I was still a member, so the messages I saw were from her telling the group the downstairs printer was out of toner or asking about where they kept the Year 9 listening assessment papers. They’re in the 2023 assessments folder, Suzie. It’s not an obvious place to look but I think they were put there by accident. I never piped up and said that though. It felt like the wrong way to start talking to her again.

‘I can’t read if you’re angry with her. Or is that your feelings for the jacuzzi talking again?’ he asks me.

‘I just…a lot happened there in a short space of time. I need time to recover, work it out. For now, this is good. This is unfeasibly warm and I’ve read that’s not good for your sperm count but time with you, just you, is good.’

He smiles, knowing that my reluctance to talk about Suzie means a steer is needed. ‘Normally, you and I time involves a PlayStation or a supermarket,’ he jokes.

I laugh at the memory. When the both of us were tasked with looking after our family, we used to head out with ashopping trolley and come out with lots of crisps, toilet paper and cheese. We had no clue what we were doing. It seems like only yesterday but also a lifetime ago.

‘Also, I’m not sure when and how I’m supposed to do this but I also have a question for you? That was also the purpose of this trip.’

I nod curiously.

‘Well, it’s kind of obvious but you’ll be my best man, yeah?’ he asks. ‘Amy’s furious I’ve not really made a decision about that yet. Thought I’d go with one of the boys but I mean, you make sense. You are the best man I know and you know me so well, so yeah…’

I don’t think he was supposed to ask that question here while our ball sacks are being pummelled by these jacuzzi jets but I smile and feel myself tear up. We certainly have moved on from just thinking we could live off multipacks of ready salted Hula Hoops, haven’t we? I’m so fucking proud of him, of us. I float over and give him a hug, holding him tightly.

‘Love you, bro,’ he says, his head on my shoulder.

‘Love you more.’

It’s only then we hear a slight cough though as the hug is drawn out, and those ladies in the pool look over judgementally to see what we’re up to. Yeah, not that.

Max peers over the side at them. ‘Way to ruin a moment…tournez around and mind your own. Is that a yes then?’

‘It’s a big oui from me.’

‘Probably not something you should say in a jacuzzi, bro.’

And I laugh, from somewhere in me that thought I’d never laugh like that again.

‘So you didn’t think to ask Andy then?’ I ask Max, as we return to our room in white robes and hotel slippers. It’s a comfy andswish look for us and yes, we may have taken a selfie like this too. Brooke will love that one.

‘To be my best man?’ Max asks. ‘Hell no. Turns out after Mallorca, his wife saw some photo on Facebook of him cosying up to some girl, and she dug a bit deeper and realised that’s why she kept getting thrush. They’ve separated now.’ I try and act shocked and maybe a little bit disappointed. ‘Yeah, don’t be smug. I didn’t ask Wrighty either because he did it for Coops last year and he said the f-word twenty-two times in his speech. They think it’s why his aunt had a stroke.’

I laugh. I’ll have to write a speech. I’ll have to make sure he gets there on time and wears clean pants. It somehow feels like everything I’ve been doing for the past six years really, except I’ll be doing it in a suit. I hope it’s a nice suit. We amble down the corridor of this hotel, a few guests giving us strange looks. Such is the way of hotels, it’s just people coming and going. It feels like a very apt place to be. We enter the stretch of corridor of our room when we both suddenly stop. A room a few doors down from us seems to be getting a room service delivery.

‘Laissez-le dehors,’ a voice pipes up from beyond the door.

Max puts a hand to my chest and we linger in the shadows as the porter rests the tray on a folding table outside and then leaves. That is a bold move. Anyone could walk past? Two chancers in bathrobes, for example, who have worked up a hunger after a day of drinking, slightly parched from overheating in the jacuzzi. We stare at the food, longingly.

‘That is a lot of fucking frites,’ Max says, as we look at the tray.

‘Like almost too many. I count seven portions of chips, that’s just greedy,’ I say.

‘It could be a family in there, you know? Fussy-eater kids?’ Max says.

‘But it’s also late – perhaps it’s sex food for two lovers who’ve been going at it all afternoon.’

Max laughs, side-eyeing me. ‘I dare you.’

‘You what?’

‘Dare you to steal some chips, come on?’

‘You dare me?’

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