“What?” I laugh, but there’s a flutter of panic in my chest. “No, I didn’t mean an actual list.”
“Why not?” She’s already halfway to the kitchen. “We need a visual manifestation of the new Georgie.”
“I mean… I do love lists,” I admit, trailing after her. “But for work. Not… life.”
“Life is more important than work,” she says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Maybe it is to everyone else.
I open my mouth to argue, but she’s already grabbed my hand and is dragging me to the chalkboard.
“Right then,” she says, grinning. “What does New Georgie want to achieve?”
I feel ridiculous standing here while she writes GEORGIE’S TO-DO LIST in bold letters across the top.
“Swim in the Fairy Pools,” I mumble, because I have to say something.
“Okay, that’s an easy one. We need to go deeper. More ambitious.”
“Hike up the Old Man of Storr,” I continue, gaining confidence.
“Sounds like a euphemism.” Fee giggles, and I snort despite myself.
We’re both laughing as the list grows: dolphins, puffins, surfing, haggis, whisky tasting…
With every chalk squeak, I feel something in my chest uncoil.
When was the last time I wanted something just for me? Not for work. Not because someone else told me to?
Fee tilts her head. “What about men?”
“What about them?”
“You need to pursue your sexual awakening here, girl. The kilts alone are enough to cause orgasms.”
I giggle. The wine makes me brave. Or unhinged.
And there’s something about seeing Patrick in his helicopter because, fuck me, that was hot. Heat pools low in my belly just thinking about it.
It’s made me remember that I’m twenty-five years old, and I have needs and wants that have nothing to do with debugging code.
I look at Fee, feeling reckless. “Have athletic sex with rugged Highland man?”
“Yes!” Fee writes it down with theatrical flourish. “Now we’re talking! Except…”
She scores out “man” and replaces it with “men,” underlining it three times.
I burst into giggles. “That’s… ambitious.”
“Go big or go home, I say.” She waves the chalk. “You’ve got years of repressed horniness to make up for. One Highland man isn’t going to cut it.”
Somehow, through wine-fueled giggles, we create something between a bucket list and a manifesto for sexual chaos:
GEORGIE’S SKYE TO-DO LIST
Swim in the Fairy Pools (probability of spotting a hot farmer: TBD, but Fee is optimistic)
