“You don’t? I’d say it’s pretty relevant, if you ask me. Most guys would probably appreciate a heads-up about the fact that the girl they’re seeing has flown thousands of miles just to check them off a list she made when she was a teenager.”
“Well, Ididn’task you,” I snap. “And we’re not ‘seeing’ each other. We’re just two old friends catching up, that’s all.”
And kissing.
Well, sort-of kissing.
“Anyway,” I go on, finishing the donut and making a start on the eggs. “I didn’t come out herejustfor Jamie. I’ve told you that before. Sure, seeing him wasoneof the things I wanted to do, but it wasn’t theonlyreason I came here. There are plenty of others, you know.”
“Oh, I know,” Alex says wryly. “I’ve seen the list.”
He pulls off his sunglasses to polish the lenses. His eye is looking much better today, and as he glances up at me, I’m struck again by how good-looking he is, even when he’s being annoying. Which is most of the time.
“What areyoudoing here, anyway?” I ask, to move the focus away from me and Jamie.
He sighs.
“I’m eating breakfast, Summer. It’s a restaurant, remember? We’ve been here before? You threw steak at people? Is this ringing any bells?”
I shake my head impatiently.
“No, I meanhere. In Tenerife. It’s just… you don’t seem like an all-inclusive, package-holiday-by-the-beach kind of guy, if you don’t mind my saying. You’re more of a ‘Tasteful Villa in Tuscany’ sort. Or maybe a gîte in the South of France. And you’d pronounce it properly, too, with a French accent. And you’d have a —”
“Do you always make up entire backstories and personalities for the people you meet, or am I special?”
“Youwish.”
I smile at him to show I’m joking, but he doesn’t laugh.
“Who does that, though?” I persist, pouring myself some more coffee. “Who books a package holiday to the Canary Islands on their own?”
He looks at me pointedly, not bothering to answer this.
“Other than me, obviously. And anyway, you know whyI’mhere. And unless youalsocame out here in search of the love of your life, it doesn’t explainyourmotivation. Oh, my God. You didn’t, did you?”
Alex snorts.
“Hardly.”
“Yeah, okay. What would be the odds, right? But fairytales aside, you could still be here in search of love, couldn’t you? Oh no, wait: you don’t believe in that. Which is a shame, really, when you’re so—”
I manage to stop speaking just before the words “you’re so good looking” come tripping off my tongue to embarrass me.
“So…? Well, go on; you can’t just leave me hanging like that. I’m so—?”
“You’re so … well, you’re not exactly ugly, are you?”
I’m assuming it’s okay for me to say that, seeing as he said the same thing about me yesterday. We can find each other Not Ugly but still low key hate each other, right?
Alex’s mouth twitches.
“You think I’m Un-Ugly?”
“Well,shecertainly seems to think so.”
I jerk my head in the direction of a table a few meters to the left, where an attractive blonde has been busy making eyes at Alex ever since she sat down. I can’t really blame her, either; he is looking particularly delicious this morning, in a crisp white t-shirt, which is just fitted enough to show off his biceps. His hair is damp from the shower again,and as he glances over at the blonde, she blushes right to the roots of her hair, and almost spills her drink down her top.
“See?” I say teasingly. “That’s the effect you have on women.”
