He stifles a huge yawn. ‘Yeah. No problem. I’ll call them now.’
‘No, please. Let me make you a coffee first. Take a seat in there while I go make it,’ I say, pointing to the lounge area.
‘Coffee would be awesome, thanks, Libby.’ He has such an infectious easy smile. At the sound of him saying my name, goosebumps appear on my arm. ‘I’m really sorry we’ve let you down like this. I’ll do what I can to make sure you settle incomfortably, and I’ll order some nice food and supplies. Let me know what you like.’
‘That’s so kind, thank you.’ I am instantly lifted by his lovely thoughtfulness.
I disappear backwards into the kitchen and quickly switch my gown around so that the ties are at the front. He remains silent while I flit about making us both a coffee. I rummage around in the cupboard for the biscuits that I unpacked earlier. I imagine Cam could do with a pick-me-up, so while I wait for the coffee machine to finish whirring, I arrange them neatly on a plate ready to carry them through.
I’m so nervous around him. Partly because he is so much better looking in real life than I’d thought and secondly, because he obviously keeps himself trim with his part-time veganism and exercise. Only a blind woman would fail to notice how well his t-shirt and shorts contour the shape of his tanned, athletic legs and torso. The last time I used my legs for running purposes, I was ten years old. I also didn’t expect him to be quite so cool. He’s got a competent and professional air about him that is very charismatic.
In truth, he could just as easily go on the show himself, he’s that good-looking. I’d put him around thirty so too mature for the show. In fact, I think, even with my dreadful track record in matters of the heart and hanging around with eight and nine-year-olds all day long, I’ll still be too mature for the show.
‘It must be exhausting to organise a TV show like this, is it? Who knew there was so much involved? Contestants in secret villas, runners, chaperones, producers,’ I shout through from the kitchen, genuinely interested in what goes on behind the scenes. But more than that, I’d like to draw his attention away from the fact that I look horrific and greeted him with my pale bare bum cheeks in this piece-of-string bikini. ‘I imagine there’s so much to do.’
I slam cupboard doors looking for a tray, some sugar, spoons. ‘I know you probably aren’t allowed to tell me, but do you think that I’ll be going in the villa soon?’
Slam, open, slam.
‘As a bombshell? Or as an original?’
I’m like the prosecution leading the witness.
Silence. Plenty of it.
‘It’s just because I need to have my luggage back before I go in, otherwise I will look like a complete horror-show. A bit like I look today.’ I let out a nervous laugh and wait for him to refute everything I have just said because, as I’m sure he will remember, he told me that I am gorgeous, stunning and naturally beautiful. All in the same sentence.
More silence.
I carry the tray of coffee and biscuits through to the lounge area to find Cameron flat out asleep on the sofa. His long legs are spread wide. His head is thrown back on the cushion and his arms are flopped on either side. He’s still holding a bunch of keys in one hand and a pile of papers in the other. They have CONFIDENTIAL written across the top.
I glance at the papers. They look like the schedule papers for the show. It’s nerve-wracking not knowing. I am tempted to take them from him but knowing my luck he’d wake up to find me manhandling him.
I look at the papers.
You do have to wonder if this level of secrecy is strictly necessary.
‘They’re hardly the Whitehouse nuclear codes,’ I mutter quietly looking for a place to put the tray down. Cam shifts in his sleep, loosening his grip and the papers slip gently onto the floor.
I will not look.
No. I have strong moral fibre that prevents me.
I will not even tidy the papers back into a neat pile for him, in case he thinks I have been peeking.
I will put the tray down on the coffee table and go outside. I will enjoy my swim and read my book. I won’t give these confidential papers a second thought. Nor will I obsess over how adorable he looks in his sleep. Or whether he is single and attracted to me.
I’m mid-swim when Cam appears at the patio door which leads out to the pool area from the lounge. He fills the frame, reaching casually up to stretch his arms out to yawn. He shakes himself awake and stands watching me.
‘Sorry about nodding off like that,’ he says sheepishly. ‘I didn’t realise I was so tired.’
‘That’s okay,’ I shout back from the far end of the pool as I swim back towards him. Trust him to wake up now. I’ll have to stay in the pool or else climb out and give him an eyeful of the world’s skimpiest bikini. It’s so skimpy I can barely feel it. I look down to double check that it is still tied to my body.
‘Erm, I hate to ask this…’ Cam rubs one side of his face sleepily. ‘But did you by any chance…?’
Oh, my God, he thinks I’ve peeked at his stuff!
‘Did I by any chance look at the confidential papers?’ I say, pretending to be shocked. ‘No, I did not. I would never. I’m the sort of woman who would NEVER betray a confidence. Those confidential papers fell from your hand, and I did not so much as glance at them. I swear to God. That’s the truth of it.’
