‘I do. That little tumbleweed bitch is my favourite.’
Sam belly laughs, clutching his stomach. ‘Well, alright then. I’m still a Duskull guy.’
‘An interesting choice,’ I muse. ‘Mysterious. Like you.’
Sam’s eyebrows rise. ‘You think I’m mysterious?’
Somehow, we’ve bobbed apart, so that there’s enough space between us to stretch out. I move closer, just enough. The ball lay in his court on whether he’ll close the last stretch.
‘I think that despite the feeling that no time has passed, there’s a lot I want to know about you. And when you’re ready, you can share with me whatever you want to share,’ I say. ‘It helps that even though you’re that pretty, your life seems just as tragic as mine.’
Sam splashes me, a playful air, one that gets me thinking of our younger days of swimming at leisure centres.
‘Hey, your life is worse,’ Sam jokes. ‘At least I’m not still strung up about my ex.’
‘Touché, Sam. Touché.’
Chapter Twenty-Five
WILL
Day Three
We browse Agistri island, where emerald green trees and white homes with chestnut rooftops take my breath away. I wanted to lounge on sunbeds on white sandy beaches, framed by burnt rock cliff edge, but we didn’t have the time.
Now, back on the boat, I’m back in pirate mode.
‘Argh, ye must be ready for food.’
‘We are,’ I say, as my stomach rumbles.
The food is a generous serving of pasta covered in a rich tomato sauce, with a side helping of chopped greens, red onions and tomato. I dip the provided bread into tzatziki.
The pirates sit at their own table, staying in character as they eat their ‘hearty grubs’.
‘How’s the grub?’ The siren, now playing the role of a ‘maiden waitress’, asks.
‘Great,’ I say, through a mouthful, ever dignified.
Lager dances on my tastebuds, a refreshing cold taste in the peak afternoon sunshine.
The surrounding group has thawed to the pirate escapades, except for the girl who at first refused to give up her phone.
‘It’s going to be a long day,’ she says to her four friends, all of whom look just as stylish, handsome, pretty and rich as she does. ‘Three islands with pirates.’
‘Argh,’ the pirates chime, not a care that she’s unhappy.
‘I came on here for some cool Instagram shots,’ she says, her eyes rolling at the pirates. ‘This doesn’t fit the aesthetic.’
‘I think it’s a great aesthetic,’ Sam chimes in, much to my surprise.
She turns to him, all fluttering eyelashes. My stomach twists at the idea of a cat spotting its prey.
‘Oh, really?’ Folding her talons, I mean claws, no,handstogether, one leg over her bronze knee. ‘You’re in to all this pirate stuff?’
‘Yeah.’ Sam breaks off some bread, dipping it into a garlic dip. ‘I was obsessed withPirates of the Caribbeanwhen I was a kid.’
‘Oh, me too,’ a man in a white linen shirt, one of the posh girl’s friends says.
