Page 40 of Going Overboard

Brody grins like I just gave him a present.

‘You googled me,’ he says.

‘I did not,’ I’m quick to reply.

‘You did – was it when you went to the toilet for fifteen minutes?’

Oh, he’s loving this.

‘Ew, you were timing me?’

‘Erm, I’m just being a supportive boyfriend,’ he says with a shrug.

Okay, if I’m being honest with you, I did actually go to the toilet to google him. I was like Sherlock Holmes with an iPhone.

I didn’t have much time – well, fifteen minutes, I guess – but I skim-read as much as I could. I had a peep at his Instagram and, oh boy, that thing is a thirst trap. I felt like I needed a cold showerand a cigarette after looking at all his muscle-flexing photos – and I don’t even smoke.

I also looked over as many articles as I could and, as far as I could tell, there are far more about him being the ‘bad boy of cricket’ than about him actually playing the sport. Then again, the algo is probably more likely to serve me trashy tabloids than sports news. He looks like fun, I’ll give him that. If you’re a bottle of spirits or a hot blonde, you’re in trouble when Brody Ryan is in town. I did learn that he doesn’t only play for Yorkshire, he plays for England too, so he must be good, right?

Brody tips his head one way, then the other.

‘You know what, I think it’s one of those beds where it’s two zipped together, to make one really big one,’ he says.

‘Really?’ I reply, my voice full of hope and optimism.

‘Yeah, the headboard looks like it separates, I reckon I can pull them apart,’ he tells me.

He looks like he could pull the wall apart, so there’s that.

‘Wouldn’t that be the answer to all of our problems,’ I say with a sigh.

‘Maybe one of them,’ he says with a laugh as he starts unbuttoning his shirt.

‘You’re as bad as Al,’ I tease him.

‘It’s hard to be flexible in a shirt,’ he replies. ‘Close your eyes if it offends you.’

My worry is that it doesn’t offend me, quite the opposite.

Brody gets right to it, pulling at the beds, trying to separate them. He’s right, it does look like the base should separate, but it’s not giving up without a fight. He grunts and groans, the headboards banging against the wall as he tries to shake them apart, but still they don’t budge.

‘Harder,’ I call out helpfully. ‘You’re almost there…’

‘I’m… I’m…’

‘Come on,’ I say, just in case my encouragement is helping. ‘Show it who’s boss.’

Brody pulls on the headboard and it looks like it might be moving but then it snaps back to the wall, trapping Brody’s finger in the process.

I can’t help but scream, imagining it being much worse than it is.

‘Ugh!’ he shouts, shaking his hand, like he’s trying to flick the pain off, as if it’s water and the hand dryer isn’t working. ‘Baby,’ he teases me for screaming.

‘Oh, you’re so hard,’ I reply, rolling my eyes, because that must have hurt him, even if he’s trying to style it out like it didn’t.

He starts again, pushing, pulling, grunting, groaning – nothing. He’s even breaking a sweat now.

‘Come on, Ryan, put your back into it,’ I call out. Okay, yeah, now I’m just trying to annoy him.

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