When we emerge, we both dress hurriedly, and I help Flavia zip herself into her dress, which feels unnervingly couply. I think I need to reiterate – in as un-crass a manner as possible – that I do not do relationships (especially with Flavia) and that this is just for now. I’ll say it tomorrow, though. There’s no point ruining this evening. New Year’s Eve in Cape Town should be amazing.
‘I just need to send my mum a couple of messages,’ Flavia says when she’s finished putting lipstick on.
As I watch her tuck the lipstick into a sequinned evening bag, I feel something inside me clench. She’s wonderful. Adorable. She deserves the best. I’ll definitely talk to her tomorrow. Just in case she didn’t mean it when she said this was all no-strings, and might be reading more into things.
So for now, I just say, ‘Yeah, I should check my messages too.’
There’s actually one from Flavia’s brother Vinny:
Mate, this is a bit of a weird one. I want to talk but I’m not sure whether it’s okay to phone you. Are you with Flavia?
I panic for a moment that he’s messaged me to tell me that something bad’s happened to their mum and that I’m going to have to impart bad news to Flavia, and then I look over at her and think it can’t bethatbad, because she’s looking pretty normal now and I can’t believe she wouldn’t have heardsomething. Especially since she just said she was going to text her mum.
So I stop panicking and tell Vinny:
Yes, am with Flavia.
He’s straight back with:
Okay then… Gonna have to write it.
And then he types for a very, very long time. Eventually, after genuinely minutes have passed (Flavia is still busy on her phone), his message arrives:
Basically… as I said… it’s a weird one. Mum hosted a lot of family last night. She had a few glasses of champagne and got a little talkative. Again, mate, sorry, this IS a weird one and I don’t want to be offensive in any way but you’ll understand that family has to come first. So Mum said… hard to describe and apologies… but basically she and your mum thought it would be nice to engineer you and Flavia getting together. In Mum’s words, both their grandmother-to-be biological clocks are ticking. So that’s why they organised getting the two of you together on your Cape Town trip. They fixed the raffle (as in they didn’t actually sell any tickets to anyone else). So mate. To the point. Knowing you as I do, in the nicest possible way, I think that you two getting together would not be the best thing for Flavia. She’s had a shitty year – Dad’s passing and her marriage break-up – and she doesn’t need – again in the nicest possible way – a meaningless hookup OR – obviously a lot worse – what she thinks is something longer term – with someone who famously does not commit. So. Yeah. Sorry. You’re a very good friend, love you dearly, you know all of that. But when it comes down to it I love my sister more. So… not to be too much of an arse, or assume too much, but just saying if it DID cross your mind… I’d say best not to go there. And if anything HAS happened I’d say write it off to New Year’s and walk away now. Other than that, Happy New Year and see you for a kickaround and a pint soon.
I look at Flavia, smiling at something on her screen, and suddenly my mind is crowded with images of her – us – this morning, and just now in the shower.
I really, really, really like her, I realise all of a sudden. I really do. Very, very much. But finding someone attractive is not enough.
Vinny’s right. I wreck relationships. I never want to hurt Flavia. Or ruin things between our families and upset her mother. But mainly I don’t want to hurt Flavia.
Yeah. This is not going anywhere else. Because at some point it would stop and Flavia could get hurt, unless she really, really means the no-strings sex thing.
I look more closely at her. She’s holding her phone, kind of staring at it. If you had to guess, you’d say she’d just read a message that had slightly stunned her.
Did Vinny text her too?
And if he did, should we discuss it? Or just… pretend nothing ever happened today?
I really don’t know. I half wish we’d been a lot more sensible and half really cannot regret an experience as out-of-this-world fantastic as that.
Flavia obviously senses me looking at her and glances up at me.
I give her a half-smile and she does the same to me in return.
Then we just remain, looking at each other, half smiling, half not-smiling.
Talking about what happened and what should never happen again is not a conversation that I want to have.
But also… we have a long flight ahead of us tomorrow night, presumably sitting next to each other, and our families live in the same small village and Flavia now lives in the UK again so we will presumably bump into each other from time to time. I ignore the shaft of misery I feel at the sudden image I have of bumping into her at some point in the future when she’s remarried and has a couple of little kids and I… just keep on having failed short relationships.
We should say something, clear the air. Draw a line, establish that this really was just… just a no-strings holiday thing.
I open my mouth to begin, and then I close it again.
I can’t say anything now. There’s no point making the rest of our stay uncomfortable.
13
