‘Confuse me?’ I say. ‘I think we both know what I wanted. The confusion is with you. I mean, I get it,’ I tell him. ‘Last night. You’d get sacked if we were caught… you know, wouldn’t you?’
‘It’s not that. What if you’d got the call and decided to go into the villa? I didn’t want you to feel awkward about having to go with other…’
‘But I don’t want to go with other…’ I can’t bring myself to finish the sentence. There’s no chance any woman with a pulse would choose any other man over him.
He clears his throat nervously. ‘Are you saying that you…?’
I blink slowly. ‘Are you saying that you…?’ I say, taking a step towards him.
You could cut the sexual tension with a knife.
He instinctively reaches for me. Our faces inches apart, his strong arms holding me tight. I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him closer. I feel the heat of his skin on mine. The energy between us suddenly changes. This is it.
The moment.
The build-up to the kiss has commenced yet again and fireworks are going off in my brain.
The kiss is forthcoming. Cam’s gaze has shifted to my lips.
If he doesn’t make a move, then I definitely will because he fancies me. I’m 100 per cent certain of it. I reach slowly behind me to close the door when a shadow falls over us.
‘Well, this looks cosy!’
We spring apart. Porscha is standing looking furious, hands firmly on hips, legs wide apart as though she’s a politician on stage at a public rally, head tilted to one side.
She looks from Cam to me and back again. ‘Someone want to tell me what the hell is going on?’
14
Cam and I exchange a panicked look. We were so, so close to sealing the deal. I’m gutted. I can feel the dopamine ebbing from my brain.
‘We were saying goodbye,’ I say, stepping away from Cam. ‘Cam was just helping… me… with my bags. I get very emotional at goodbyes. I’m not good with that sort of thing. I have overactive hormones.’ I am speaking so quickly that it all sounds very, very untrue by the time it peters out.
Porscha looks down at my one tiny case and shakes her head at me. ‘I can see why you need help with it.’
Sarcasm. The lowest form of wit.
There’s an awkward air of silence where none of us says anything.
‘God, I can’t stand you British and your need for overthinking things. You make terrible liars. I know that for sure. And where is it you think you’re going?’
‘Home.’ It’s out of my mouth before I barely know what’s happening.
She glares at Cameron. ‘And you didn’t think to tell me this minor detail? You do know how this show works, right?’ Her voice jumps up at least four octaves. She looks livid with him.
‘Not my home,’ I blurt. ‘Another home. Another villa.’
‘That’s right,’ says Cam. ‘I thought I’d switch her to a villa that’s nearer to the production village. So I don’t have too far to travel.’
‘You told her about the production village?’ She looks incredulous.
It’s time for the more experienced liar to step up.
‘It’s not his fault,’ I say in a rush. ‘I overheard him talking on his phone. I appreciate there’s a lot that still needs to be pulled together.’
‘Is she telling me what happens on my own show?’ she says to Cam.
He shakes his head. He’s probably wondering why I’m digging myself into a hole.
