I watch mortified as my camera is trained on a load of hairy bums and then myself looking really rather pissed, and then back to the bums.
‘I recognised the bar straight away,’ he points out, showing me the neon Jolly Roger sign above the bar that comes briefly into view in the video clip. ‘I was worried! Your text, it said that you… I mean it sounded like, y’know, uh... you found something out about me. I can explain. Just hear me out.’
Maria-José-Inmaculada-Carmen leans over to my sister and whispers something in her ear. They slip discreetly off their stools to disappear onto the dancefloor.
I take a moment. What on earth is he talking about? I found something out about him? Then I have a moment of clarity. Of course, he knows that I’m onto him.
‘You’re an ICF spy,’ I say, tapping the side of my nose.
He is staring at me with wild eyes. For want of anything better to do, I keep on staring back at him. And swaying slightly. And hiccupping. But in an alluring way.
He helps me clamber off the stool as we make our way outside, away from the music.
‘You’re fine with it then, I take it,’ he says at last. He looks sexy and dishevelled.
‘Yep,’ I point to myself. ‘I’m certainly no picnic myself.’
He looks slightly perplexed. But that’s okay because I happen to be extremely self-aware.
‘I’m no walk in the park. Even though it’s my job at stake. To be the helper of ones…hic…who need help. I’m the helperer. I am the help who helps,’ I explain articulately. ‘But I am a terrible person, so don’t you feel bad. You. You are lovely. And big.’
He gives me an exasperated look. Almost like he has immediately regretted flying back. This makes him instantaneously a thousand times sexier. I’m a bit drunk and finding him very handsome. I take a step towards him, swaying slightly as I go.
He reaches out to steady me. Just at that moment, Jimbo, Gav and their esteemed team captain, Squinty, barge past braying and honking. They have deely boppers on their heads, with a pink sash lady under each arm cackling away because these rugger lads are so, so very funny and charming. They stop to politely ask if I’d like to join them back at Squinty’s hotel room.
‘Just for an orgy of booze, sex and drugs, mind. No funny business,’ he winks.
For some reason my response is to laugh hysterically, rather than politely decline.
‘See you soon,’ he yells over his shoulder before they disappear round the corner.
No you won’t!
He pops his head back around, ‘DM us the deets of the coach trip thing, yeah? We’ll all come.’
‘Will do!’ I yell back, waving.
Oh my God.
‘Judging by the state of that lot,’ Oliver finally laughs, ‘maybe I do need to save you from yourself. Coach trip?’
Oliver is becoming increasingly handsome as the minutes fly by, but I do feel the need to put him right on a few things. Namely about him having to accept who I am. I am a strong, independent,extremelyhot, sexy,attractive man-magnet. Coach trips and orgies with hairy toffs might be a fundamental part of my identity for all he knows. I am a free spirit. I am what I am and what I am needs no excuses. I might sing this at him. I have a beautiful singing voice. Beautiful. I take a deep breath in and prepare to wow him with my hidden talents.
‘I am what I am,’ I suddenly sing into his face, waving my arms in the air. ‘And what am I? I’m my own special creation, no that’s not it.’ I jab at him, missing his chest. Suddenly the words come to me. I bellow them out. ‘I love each sparkle and each bangle. So what? You can take me from a different angle!’
I get a cheer from a nearby table. Who knew the lyrics were so sexual?
‘Listen, why don’t you forget the song?’ Oliver says quickly. ‘I’ll get you some water instead. I need to explain a few things to you.’
‘What song?’ I say, watching Oliver stride over to the bar and back again in under a second. He catches me in his beefy arms as I sway towards him, and because I must look terribly thirsty - he is so kind - he gives me a bottle of designer water, and I drink it down.
‘Will you get into trouble for just aband…abandningnig…abadnoning…leaving work like that?’ I slur in amazement. I can’t help but wonder at his impulsiveness. I could never be like that. It takes me half an hour to choose an avocado at the supermarket.
‘Yes,’ he says bluntly, raising an eyebrow and looking at me like I’m a naughty minx who has caused him nothing but trouble. The atmosphere between us is suddenly heavy with lust.
‘So, you flew to Madrid on important ICF business and flew straight back?’ I can’t help wanting to clarify.Oh my.I am in lust. Deeply in lust. ‘Just for me?’ I ask, staring into his eyes in wonderment.
He takes a step closer, never once breaking eye contact. This is the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for me. Even if it is because he thinks I am a complete loon. It still counts.
