“Well, I’mhopingto be able to celebrate you not asking me any more questions,” he says pointedly. “But it doesn’t look like that’s going to be anytime soon, so—”
“That’s not a ‘no’,” I point out, relieved to have distracted him from the fact that I was about to try to read his card. “So, is it, then? Your birthday? What age are you, anyway?”
“God, you don’t give up, do you?” he says, turning and starting to rifle through the wardrobe, which is as neat as everything else in this room. “I’m 35, if you must know. Happy now?”
“Is that why you’re sotetchyall the time, then?” I ask thoughtfully. “Let me guess: you don’t like birthdays? Or you’re upset because you’re almost 40 and you haven’t done anything with your life yet?”
“I think that’syouyou’re thinking of,” he replies, without turning around. “I’ve done plenty with my life, thanks. And I’m not ‘almost 40’.”
“Neither amI,” I retort. “Oh, happy birthday, by the way. Sorry, I should really have said that first.”
Alex doesn’t bother to reply.
“Er, anyway,” I say, looking at my watch. “Are you ready?”
“Do Ilookready?” Alex replies, gesturing to the towel that I’ve been determinedly trying to ignore.
“Maybe I’ll just wait for you outside, then,” I tell him, almost tripping over myself as I rush to the door. “I’ll be right here! Take your time! Or, you know,don’ttake your time, actually — I think I can see the bus arriving.”
The door to Alex’s hotel room slams shut behind me just as a large white tour bus comes into view through the archways that look out onto the mountains. I watch as it pulls up outside reception, and a small group of people start to file onto it. I’m sure that’s Rita’s sunhat I can see near the front. And Gerald’s bald spot.
At least Alex won’t be spending his birthday alone, then.
Although… isn’t it a bit weird that he’d come out here to celebrate it on his own? Or with me, Gerald, and Rita, which is possibly even worse?
Who does that? Like, I knowI’mhere on my own, but it’s not my birthday. If it was, I don’t think sipping champagne alone in a hotel room is how I’d want to spend it somehow.
I wonder if he’s lonely?
I wonder if Ishould—
“Ready?”
Alex is standing behind me, now fully dressed, and with his ever-present sunglasses hiding his bruised eye. Today’s vibe is very ‘rich guy who plays tennis on the weekends’ — all glossy and expensive, even though he’s just wearing shorts and a polo shirt, and has only had a few minutes to get dressed.
“That was quick,” I comment, following him down the corridor at a slow jog. “It always takes me ages to get ready.”
“I bet,” he mutters darkly over his shoulders.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask as we reach the elevators that will take us down to the ground floor reception.
Why does he have to make every single thing he says to me sound like an insult?
“Nothing,” he shrugs. “It’s just… well, you seem pretty high maintenance.”
His eyes move slowly down my body in a way that makes me wish I’d worn a less revealing pair of shorts.
“Are you seriously going to wear those?” he asks, staring at my feet. “To climb a mountain?”
“What’s wrong with them?” I glance down at my bright red, platform-soled wedges as the lift doors ping open. “You said it was a cable-car ride? No climbing involved, remember?”
“The cable car only takes you so far,” he replies, walking in and pressing the button to go down. “If you want to go right to the very top, then yes, you have to climb. And it’s… well, it’s rocky. As you’d expect. Because it’s a volcano?”
He’s looking at me with a ‘Can you believe this idiot?’ expression.
“But you didn’ttellme any of that last night,” I protest. “You made it sound easy.”
“I didn’t know you were going to head up there the very next morning, did I?” he says crossly. “And wear…that… todo it.”
