‘Ah. Bookworm problems. Thanks for letting me crash out in your bed. I had the best sleep I’ve had in a long time.’
I’m almost positive I don’t sleep as gracefully as he does: picture-perfect like he’s in an ad for pillows or something. Often, I wake myself up sleep-talking, my mouth open in a silent scream.
‘Should we go see if the party is still raging?’ When we left last night there was talk among revellers about staying to watch the sunrise. I pause and listen for any music. ‘You don’t think it is – do you?’
Georgios springs out of bed in his tighty-whitey boxer shorts. I avert my gaze out of respect and then remember I’m supposed to be dating him, so eye him up accordingly because it’s expected of me. He catches me ogling so I quickly follow him from the bed, allowing him a full view of my lightweight linen two-piece pyjama set that covers almost every square inch of my body. Prim, maybe. Proper, always.
‘Let’s go see,’ he says.
‘OK, I’ll quickly throw myself in the shower.’
As I open the bathroom door, he says, ‘Before we head out …’ And then stops short. ‘Actually don’t worry.’
‘What is it?’ I hover between the bathroom and the bedroom.
He waves me away. ‘Nothing. It can wait.’
‘OK.’ I shower and brush my teeth, exiting the bathroom sheathed in a thin towel. Holding his overnight bag Georgios goes to slip past me, but we don’t glide easily; instead we brush against each other. I’m hyper aware there’s not a lot covering our sexy bits – just the thought is enough to make my cheeks flush. The moment is charged as I stare into his dark unfathomable eyes. ‘You better …’ My words peter out.
‘I better …’ He bites down on his lip – I’ve never seen such a thing off the page before, and it’s quite intense. How can one little gesture be so alluring? I swallow hard and turn away first. Golly, is it hot in here.
When he shuts the door, I exhale sharply. What was that? He makes my legs weak, literally weak, as if they might not do their job of holding me up.
When I hear the shower go, I drop my towel and dress. There’s enough time to apply some light make-up and brush out my hair.
He wanders out in a cloud of steam, towel strung casually around his waist. The vision is almost too much; I’m woozy at the sight of him. Lost imagining the many ways the towel could fall from his body. Ripping it off would be one way. Pretend tripping and using it as leverage for my faux fall would be another. Instead, I cough and clear my throat, mumbling about giving him some space to get changed and leave in a rush, pulse racing.
Outside I gulp fresh air. What is happening to me? I’d been about three seconds away from de-robing the guy! Is that acceptable without some kind of discussion beforehand? WhileIknow we’re fake-dating, thus the answer would be absolutely not,hedoesn’t know we are. Would he have thought me too forward? Or would he have acted upon his own impulses under the circumstances and asked my consent to throw me on the bed and ravish – stop.Just stop, Evie.
This is the product of a late night. A muddled mind and erratic lusty behaviour. But I wanted to remove that towel and damn the consequences. Perhaps I’m low on vitamins. Sugar?Something.
Georgios whistles as he wanders into the courtyard. The whistle of an innocent who’s not caught up in some strange fantasies and contemplating towel-gate. Yikes.
In the cool of the morning there’s only the distant sound of waves rolling in and birds twittering in the olive trees in the courtyard. I still my mind and try and think of anything other than a naked Georgios. But it’s no good, thewhat could have beenis firmly entrenched in my mind. Maybe this is the by-product of being the lone survivor of a long-term sex drought. I’m so thirsty I want to drink him up.
‘Shall we see if there are any stragglers?’ he says.
We go through the bookshop and into Epeolatry. The place is spick and span, save a few empty champagne coupes here and there. ‘No sign of life.’
‘Bet there’s some sore heads today,’ he says.
‘I bet.’
‘Evie!’ Gran calls out from the entrance of the bookshop, sounding suspiciously sprightly.
We go to join her. ‘You look fresh as a daisy,’ I say, giving her a hug.
‘Of course, darling. I drank plenty of water.’
‘This time.’
‘We live and learn, manymanytimes.’
I laugh. ‘What time did it all wind up?’
‘Oh a few hours ago now. Lucy went off with Stavros to his yacht. Don’t think you’ll be seeing her for a bit, Georgios. She asked us to forward her luggage back to Italy. Smitten, she was. For now, anyway.’
Georgios and I exchange a smile.
