Page 26 of Going Overboard

‘Jessa?’

It’s Brody, looking concerned, wearing nothing but a tight pair of boxer briefs. Wow, I don’t mean to sound like a sleaze, I’m not meaning to look, I promise, but Brody looks like his body has been carved from a chunk of marble and designed to stand in some museum in Greece to show everyone how jacked the gods were. No one just wakes up with a body like that (much as I’d like to – ha ha), it comes from years of crunches and planks and eating foods that are not beige or cheese. I think I’ll always prefer having a pizza to having a butt that doesn’t jiggle when you slap it. Not that that is a legitimate indicator of fitness, I don’t think…

Brody laughs at me, now that he knows I’m okay, mid-bath escape, limbs flailing, my hair and eye make-up probably all over the place, making me look like a haunted Victorian doll.

‘Oh,’ he says, laughing. ‘It’s just you being chaotic again. At least you fell in something dry this time.’

‘Good morning to you too,’ I mutter, climbing the rest of the way out like the creature from the black lagoon, if the black lagoon had been filled with gin. ‘So,’ I start, ‘last night was…’

‘Fun,’ he says, finishing my sentence for me.

‘Yeah. From what I remember,’ I reply.

Which, to be honest, isn’t a whole lot. I recall sitting with him. Talking. Laughing. A few other guests drifting in and out. Drinks multiplying mysteriously. At some point I must’ve stumbled back here, with nowhere else to go, Brody taking pity on me once again. And then I guess I slept in the bath, in Al’s shirt (although it’s covered with booze stains now) but that’s preferable tosleeping in Brody’s bed because can you imagine if we’d slept together? Not that he’s suggested it was on the cards, I think he thinks I’m too silly to be sexy, but that would have made an already messy situation even messier.

‘Thank you,’ I say sincerely. ‘For letting me crash in your bath. That was kind of you.’

He shrugs.

‘You seemed pretty desperate, so…’

A jibe. I expect no less now.

‘It’s okay, women are always desperate to stay in my room. Just usually in my bed,’ he jokes.

Ugh.

I can think of one who isn’t – Nikki – but I’m not mean enough to say Nikki out loud, even if he is trying to wind me up.

‘Well,’ I say instead, ‘I should get going. I promised Kelsey and Neil I’d meet them for breakfast. I think they arranged it to check I’m still alive.’

‘Like that?’ he asks, eyeing Al’s crumpled, booze-scented shirt.

‘It’s this or my stinky fountain dress,’ I remind him.

‘Yeah, you did proper stink in that,’ he confirms unnecessarily.

‘Thanks,’ I reply.

He disappears into the bedroom and reappears a moment later with a bundle of grey.

‘Here,’ he says, tossing it at me. ‘My tracksuit. Take it. I brought it in case I wanted to hit the gym but I’m knackered after last night.’

If he literally hit the gym he would punch a hole through it, hungover or not, it’s those bulging biceps.

‘Oh, are you sure?’ I check.

‘Yeah. I’ve got other stuff to put on,’ he replies.

I hold up the hoodie and spot a small emblem on the chest. Yorkshire County Cricket Club.

I raise an eyebrow.

‘Big cricket fan?’ I ask.

He shrugs.

‘Sort of.’

---