“Yes.”
“Have you injured it before?”
“Many times.”
“What is wrong with it?”
“It’s useless,” I explain. “I might as well have it chopped off.”
Again, he frowns, clearly not reading in my humour at all. “I don’t think that’s necessary.”
No shit.
“Well, that’s good news,” I say, finally smiling so he doesn’t think I’m completely insane. In all honesty, I don’tsurround myself with people who are big on sympathy and receiving so much attention for an ouchy ankle makes me uncomfortable. I would like to go an be in pain all alone now.
Especially because I’m suddenly freezing. The air-con is usually a treat in the centre of the yacht but with the layer of rain across my skin, I find myself shivering. Again – more fussing. You’d never get this level of service in a Premier Inn.
I laugh again at how ridiculous this attention is. All we’ve done is run through a rainstorm in Monte Carlo.
I’ve survived far worse and will again.
I search the room for Gus but he’s already leaving, phone to his ear, he looks me over with darkened eyes, waits for me to nod that I’m ok before heading towards his room. An assumption, of course, since I’m not sure where he’s staying. And why would I?
“I’ll just go grab a shower and I’ll be fine,” I tell the staff, hoping they’ll release me, except the first aider, a tall Italian man about the same age as me, and a female attendant from behind the main desk, insist on walking me to my room, my arm slung around the man’s shoulders.
My overbearing helpers linger at the door and for a worryingly long minute, I wonder if they’re going to stay and watch me shower. I practically shove them out the door then slide down it into a seated position to I examine my swollen ankle.
I run my fingers over it, a bruise already forming. “You know you work really hard at making me seem like the damsel in distress that I am very much not,” I mutter.
“What was that?” my ankle replies, except of course it’s the nosey staff outside my door.
The temptation to scream “BUGGER OFF!” is a hard one to swallow down.
Instead, I crawl away from the door and into the bathroom, switching the water on so they know I’m not talking to them. Once I’m done with my shower, cautiously leaning on walls in case my traitor ankle might betray me again, I lie face down on the massive bed, damp and exhausted.
And then I scream into my pillow because…what the fuck am I doing!?
The kiss replays in my mind. I track the decisions that led us there, pressed into the doorway of some unsuspecting poor old man’s house. It’s like I’ve lost my calm head. I did it. I made the next move. Now I’m on this rollercoaster and even though I’m a little scared and a whole lot exhilarated, I don’t want it to end.
I roll over onto my back, my breathing hastened, my heart heavy in my chest, pulse beating in my throat.
I can’t ignore the pressure in my core. I close my eyes when an image of him kissing his way down my stomach flashes into my mind.Fuck. What even is it about this man? He isn’t my usual type. But then again, what is my type? I was with Mike for five years. And he was sensible and yes, a little boring at times. But safe. And that felt like my type then. I wasn’t going to waste my energy on a risk.Little did I know.
Before Mike, it wasallrisks and heated crushes.
I brush it from my mind. Irrelevant.
Gus is desired by thousands of women. He’s followed everywhere he goes. His fame is such, that he might never escape it.
He’s a risk.
A risk I can’t mitigate.
And if the way my heart is crashing about in my chest at the very thought of taking it further with him is anything to go by, I know, despite how my friends and family see me, that I am horrifically breakable.
The sensible part of me wouldnevertake that risk. The wild part has her toes over the edge, ready to plunge herself into whatever danger this adventure poses. Screw the consequences.
I bite the end of my middle finger. I feel like the version of me at university. The one who let herself off the leash for once. The one who realised there was nobody watching who could be influenced. No one who needed her right in that moment. Letting her hair down wasn’t going to hurt anyone.
