Page 46 of The Wedding Forecast

‘It’ll be fine,’ I say, but of course, I cannot sleep on the bottom bunk now he’s put that idea in my head, which he surely knows. ‘All right, I’ll take the top. Do you want to keep reading or turn off the light?’

‘We can turn off the light.’

‘Okay.’

I switch it off, and gingerly climb the rickety ladder in the darkness. I lie down and stare at the ceiling. I haven’t been in a top bunk in a very long time. I feel dizzy. I’m too old for this. I don’t love heights at the best of times and now it’s dark, I feel like I have vertigo. If I fall off the bed in the night, will I die or just be badly injured? I should ask Jean the likelihood of death when falling from a top bunk while sleeping.

Mac is silent below me, which annoys me. He’s probably comfortable. He’s probably asleep already. He has read up to page thirty-seven of my book, I noted. And he’s saying nothing about it? That feels rude.

‘You okay up there?’ he says.

‘Fine.’

‘A lot of tossing and turning.’

‘Just trying to get comfortable.’

‘Well, just so you know, I am jolted with every movement.’

‘Do you want to strap me down so I don’t move at all?’

‘Yes, if you’re open to that kind of thing.’

‘Is that sexual innuendo?’

‘No.’

‘We are sharing a room. You got your wish.’

‘It is not my wish to do anything in this bunk bed. Unless you want to.’

‘Absolutely not.’

‘Absolutely not?’

‘The hammock was an anomaly. Caused by the full moon.’

‘Oh, the full moon. Of course. What about the bathroom?’

‘Also the full moon.’

This is leading exactly where I don’t want to go. I am already wondering if I can fit into the bed below. I can’t. Well, I probably can. And there’s the floor. No. My parents are out there a few metres on the other side of the door. But every time I close my eyes, there he is, kissing me, his hands sliding down my back, hoisting me onto the bathroom bench, blowing out the smoke, saying ‘Let me show you’ in the sexiest version of his sexy voice. It’s all on a pleasure loop in my brain.

There’s something pushing my mattress under me. He’s pushing it with his foot, I realise.

‘Yes?’ I say.

‘I like your book.’

‘Thank you.’

‘It’s funny.’

‘Thank you. It’s meant to be darkly comic, but I don’t know if everyone gets that.’

‘I laughed out loud.’

‘Oh. Good.’