Bad idea.
‘It’s late. And we haven’t eaten,’ I say.
‘It’s eight-thirty and we can order room service until midnight.’
I risk a glance, swivelling round to find him comfortably collapsed in the tub, his arms splayed out on either side of the rim. His head lolls back peacefully, eyes closed and face the picture of serenity. The water bubbles around him, spitting and steaming and washing his face in a mist that makes him glow from the outside in. He stretches out further, a small, satisfied groan escaping his lips. Suddenly the tension between my own shoulders heats up, reminding me of its existence.
‘Okay, fine. But don’t look!’ I drop my jacket to the floor.
I shed my T-shirt and leggings, watching them fall on the tiles before I tentatively shimmy on in. The warmth ripples through me instantly, bubbles tickling at my skin, and I can’t help but sigh. It’s everything I didn’t know I needed in one warm, wet, comforting package. I close my eyes and sink further in until nothing but my bra-strap-clad shoulders poke out of the water.
‘Can I look yet?’ he asks, hand placed firmly over his eyes.
‘Go for it,’ I say.
Our eyes meet and we break into instant smiles. This isit. The perfect treat after a terrible day.
‘Meeting you has been the best thing that’s ever happened to me,’ he says.
It’s so flippant, so cool, a real throwaway comment. He doesn’t understand the impact of his words and the way they turn my stomach upside down. I dated Tom for five years and he would compliment me, of course, but it was always so generic. It never went past me being ‘pretty’ or ‘funny’, and it always felt like it was said out of routine. I longed for compliments that felt personal and passion that felt real, but that’s never what we were. I convinced myself that pleasant routine was enough. Given the fuzzy feeling in my stomach now, I know that’s not true.
‘You don’t mean that,’ I say, trying to fend the butterflies off.
He looks straight at me. ‘Yes, I do. I mean, look at this place!’
The water ripples as he shifts, his arms thrown up in the air as he frantically gestures at the decadence that surrounds us. I take in the gold accents, the draping curtains and the unbelievably high ceiling, and try to process it for myself. I am sitting in a hot tub in the most cavernous bathroom I’ve ever encountered, staying in a room that would probably cost me six months of café wages. And I got here myself. This is entirely because of me. Because of the column I wrote myself.
‘Thanks for bringing me along for the ride. I can’t wait to tell people “I knew you back when”,’ he continues.
There’s no fighting it now; my stomach skips and hops in time with the curl of his lips. A warmth pools in my core, spreading through me from the inside and rendering the heat of the hot tub near-redundant. My cheeks burn hot, dizzyingly hot. It’s too intoxicatingly fiery for this late at night. I gasp for air before I even realise what I’m doing, and I have to clamp my hand over my mouth in embarrassment. But Noah doesn’t notice. He’s toobusy leaning over the side and fiddling with something on the floor.
‘Champagne?’ he asks. He turns back to me with two fizz-filled flutes clutched in his hands. ‘They had it on ice by the door. I figured it would be the perfect hot-tub refreshment.’
I take the glass from him, willingly chugging it all before he’s so much as lifted his one to his lips. He stares at me both bemused and impressed, reaching for the bottle and silently refilling my glass before I have a chance to explain myself.
‘To you and that brilliant brain of yours, landing us a swanky place to stay that’s way out of both our price ranges.’ He toasts me.
I raise my glass back to him, the clink echoing through the room and hitting me right in my jittery, fizzing heart. I bring my drink to my mouth again, holding the champagne on my tongue in an attempt to make this one last longer. But I can’t help it – I need to drown the pattering in my gut before it has the chance to evolve into anything else.
He shuffles around again, bending over to refill his own glass this time around. His leg stretches out as he does, brushing against mine under the water. It sends a jolt of electricity through my blood that I am desperate to dull. My eyes jump around, eager to find new focus, and end up homing in on his deeply defined back muscles. They flinch as he twists to get the bottle, painting dips and crevices in his smooth, caramel skin.
I need to stop. I take a sip, and then another, and then two more, making sure my eyes don’t leave my drink. I count the bubbles in my glass with stealthy concentration.One, two, three...All the way to sixteen.
‘So how was your date last night?’ I ask, reminding myself he isdating other people. ‘You must have got back pretty late – I was already asleep.’
He leans back and chuckles jovially. ‘You fell asleep on your laptop again. I was gonna take a picture, but I already have like three other times. It felt like overkill.’
‘That didn’t answer my question.’
He stirs ever so slightly, raising an eyebrow before taking a sip of his drink. ‘The date was cool. She was nice, and having the whole place to ourselves like that was mad. Really vibey.’
‘I can imagine,’ I say as neutrally as I can.
I sip my own drink as I feel something bitter seep through me. It can’t be jealousy. I can’t be jealous of a woman who went on a date with a man I have no intention of seeing. It must be tiredness, or the heat from this Jacuzzi.
I keep prying. ‘That sounds super intimate.’
I watch the corner of his lip curl but he gives nothing away, coyly sipping from his glass. I prod harder.
