23
The first thing I’m aware of when I open my eyes is the light. It’s so bright that I have no choice but to scrunch up my face like an empty crisp packet, and for a few seconds I can’t make sense of what’s happening.
I’m not in my room. I’m not in the apartment.
I blink and bring a hand up to rub away the grotty combination of sleep and dried mascara that is nestled in the corner of each eye. That’s better, now I can see. I can see large glass doors looking out over the beach, I can see the sea nibbling away at the shore, I can see a smear of clouds in the sky, and yes – those are my pants on the floor.
MY PANTS!
I manage to catch the excited yelp of delight before it exits my lips, but I have to clamp my hands over my mouth to do so, and it’s enough to disturb a blissfully sleeping Theo, who is lying with his back to me about two inches away.
‘Kalimera,’ he mutters, reaching across and finding my thigh.
‘Kali-what?’ I giggle, putting one of my own hands on top of his.
‘Buenos días,’ he says, his voice even deeper than usual. ‘Good morning.’
‘Yes, it is,’ I say playfully, and am rewarded with a squeeze.
‘Sorry I woke you,’ I whisper, wondering if it’s acceptable to lean over and kiss his shoulders. There’s a soft patch on his neck where his hairdresser has forgotten to run the clippers across, and I have an overwhelming urge to nuzzle my lips against the twist of hairs.
‘The light woke me,’ he says, finally stretching and turning his head towards mine. The tips of our noses touch and he looks right at me, directly into my eyes, not saying anything else because he doesn’t need to. My insides hurtle up to my throat like a lust missile and my heart begins to throb against Theo’s chest. Instead of kissing me like I think he’s going to, Theo simply blows gently on my throat, the warmth of his breath so much like a caress, and walks his fingers across my stomach.
I want to shut my eyes and drink in the sensations, but I’m loath to miss out on even a minute of his gorgeous face, the intensity of his gaze, the way his lips curve and seem to swell with anticipation. I should respond to his fingers, now lower and more insistent, but I feel overcome with nervous trepidation. I have never felt like this before, so scrutinised by desire, and it’s as frightening as it is thrilling. I may be out of my depth, but I’ve never been one to flounder, and as Theo props himself up on one elbow and begins to trail his tongue down my body, I finally find my hands and slide them through the hair on his chest, around and down across his back to his adorably pale bottom, which is sculpted by muscle and dusted with more soft, fine hairs.
Last night when I arrived at the villa, he wasn’t slow and measured with me like he’s being now. He’d barely opened the door before grabbing my shoulders and pinning me against the wall with hot, passionate kisses. I’d responded with enthusiasm, lifting up my legs and wrapping them around his waist as he pulled my underwear to one side. This time he was prepared, and within a few minutes our bodies came together and connected with a unified cry of pleasure. For a man of medium height and build, Theo is a lot stronger than he looks, and when we’d finished in the kitchen he had no trouble scooping me up and carrying me through here, to the bedroom, where we started all over again.
I didn’t have time to feel embarrassed about the whiteness of my untanned boobs, all I had room for was Theo – his mouth, his hands, his need for me. My dreams were coming true, and I was relishing every little taste of it.
If anything, though, this morning is better. I like that he’s taking his time to kiss every inch of me, that I have time to process what I’m feeling and savour the solidness of him as we move together. He never closes his eyes, either, but he’s not smiling. His expression is far weightier as he looks down at me, as if he’s trying to work out a puzzle. I grin at him in an attempt to lighten the mood and get him to laugh at the sheer ridiculousness of it all – of us together in this way – but Theo pulls me up and kisses me until I start to see black spots. I can hear my breaths growing shorter and shallower, and then finally, deliciously, I give in to the waves that are flooding over me.
Theo mutters something in Greek as he eases backwards on the mattress and wipes the sweat from his face. He looks flushed and serious, and I find that I can’t quite meet his eyes. My body is still tingling and I want him to lie down again and hold me; I want him to kiss me deeply and with feeling, but instead he takes a deep breath and swings his feet around to the tiled floor. Strolling naked to the corner of the room, he picks up a towel and gives me a brief smile, before heading towards the bathroom.
Should I follow him? I wonder, pulling the sheet up and across my naked body as I hear the shower begin to run. Or should I get up and make us coffee, fetch some water? It feels so surreal to be here with him, to have shared myself with him so entirely, and now that my heart rate is slowing and the metaphorical dust is settling, I find myself anchored to the bed with indecision.
I should get up and make the bed at least, put some clothes on. Maybe one of his shirts? That’s what girls do, right? Men love that. But what if he’s annoyed? What if he’d rather I didn’t put my sweaty beanpole limbs into his no-doubt expensive shirt sleeves?
The shower has stopped.
Rearing up out of the bed at speed, I’ve only just managed to yank my little black dress back on when Theo reappears, dripping water and looking good enough to eat off a cracker.
‘Help yourself to a shower,’ he says, bending over and picking up my bra from the floor.
‘Thanks.’ I snatch it out of his hand and ball it up with my pants. ‘But it’s okay. I’ll grab one back at the apartment before I go to meet Elaine.’
‘Whatever you prefer,’ Theo says, turning his back on me to rummage in his drawers for some clothes.
‘I should leave you to … I mean, I’ll make us coffee. If that’s okay? Shall I? Or should I go?’
He pauses and eyes me with amusement.
‘Hannah,’ he says, beckoning me to him with a finger.
I cross the room shyly, and he strokes my cheek with one hand.
‘You don’t have to be nervous. I am not, how do you say it, going to eat your head.’
I giggle at that.
‘Now,’ he instructs, giving me a quick peck on the lips. ‘Run along and do your interview. I will see you later, yes?’
I nod. ‘Of course.’
As soon as I’m a safe distance from the villa, I switch on my phone and predictably find two missed calls and a text from Tom. Understandably, he’s pretty pissed off with me for ditching our plan to have a drink last night – not least because I didn’t even tell him that I was. I thought about it, I really did, but I didn’t know what to say. All I could think when I got that message from Theo was how best and how fast I could get down to the villa. In my excitement, poor Tom became an afterthought – and now I do feel genuinely guilty. But what choice did I have? I’ve been waiting years for Theo to summon me over for sex, whereas Tom and I can go for a drink anytime.
I send him a quick message now apologising, explaining that I fell asleep on the sofa and failed to hear the phone. It’s utterly lame, but I don’t want to share the Theo news via text. If I do decide to tell Tom what’s just happened, I want it to be face-to-face.
It’s still early, but the sky is a solid sweep of blue, and the red pavement tiles feel warm beneath my shoes. I cross the road and stroll past the immaculate lawns outside the shopping centre, enjoying the feel of the mellow breeze against my skin and the scent of pine in the air. Everything here is so clean and well cared for – there is no litter or graffiti, and the colours seem to sing. I think of Acton High Street back in London, with its muted palette of greys and browns, its overflowing bins and complicated pattern of black chewing gum trodden into the paving slabs. The faces of the people I pass here are sun-warmed and open, which is such a contrast to the downcast and occasionally even hostile locals back home. If only London had a beach, or sunshine, or the sea. If only people could learn to love their city again and respect their neighbours. I must try to be a better citizen, I think to myself, as I start the long trudge up the hill. I need to remember this Mojácar feeling and take it with me when I leave. I don’t ever want to forget how it feels to be here.
My buoyant post-coital mood lasts right up until I reach the apartment door, only to have it yanked open by Claudette before I’ve even had time to get the key in.
‘There you are!’ she cries. ‘About time.’
‘What’s going on?’ I ask, utterly mystified by her sudden concern for my whereabouts.
‘We didn’t know where you were,’ she exclaims, leading me through into the main living space where Nancy, Carlos and – oh, wow – Ignacio are all waiting. My sister is obviously feeling better, because she’s snuggled so tightly against her Spanish admirer that she’s in danger of being swallowed whole.
Poor Tom, I think fleetingly.
‘I was out,’ I say, trying not to think about the underwear in my handbag and the trace of Theo all over my skin.
‘So, it’s not okay if Nancy wants a night out, but when you bugger off it’s fine?’
I frown at Claudette. She’s clearly just repeating what Nancy has said to her. So much for a sisterly truce.
‘And we know you weren’t with Tom,’ Claudette interrupts as I open my mouth. ‘He’s been just as worried as we were.’
‘You’re all being silly,’ I say, laughing gently to try and lift the mood. I look first at Nancy and then back to Claudette. ‘As you can see, I’m absolutely fine.’
I’m acting as if all this third-degree nonsense isn’t bothering me, but it is. Claudette must have been the one who let Ignacio into the apartment, and I don’t like the way he’s pawing at Nancy, even if right now she appears not to mind.
‘It looks as if you’ve all been enjoying your own cosy sleepover anyway,’ I mutter, going to the fridge and extracting a cold bottle of water.
I think I see Nancy wince at my words, but I don’t care. I don’t see why I’m the one in the wrong all of a sudden. I left her tucked up asleep in my bed – it’s not as if she was in any danger.
‘Who were you with?’ Claudette asks then, her tone ultra-casual.
I pause on my way to the bedroom.
‘Nobody you know.’
I shuffle my feet against the tiles. She’s seen straight through my lie as if it’s made of glass.
‘You’re making a mistake getting involved with him,’ she replies, giving me a look that has more sharp edges than the contents of a toolbox. Carlos reaches up from his seat to hold her hand, but she bats him away.
‘I’m not saying this to be unkind, Hannah. I think you need to be careful.’
‘I have no idea what you’re on about,’ I tell her honestly. She’s being absolutely mental – more insane than usual, which is really saying something. And as for Nancy, she can forget about that phone call I was going to make to Dad today to help smooth things over between them. If she’s going to sit there and let Claudette moan at me without saying a word, well then, I don’t see why I should go out of my way for her.
‘Listen, I’m sorry that you were worried about me,’ I tell the four of them. ‘But I’m fine, really. I can look after myself.’
I see Nancy sit up and open her mouth as if she’s going to say something, but before she has a chance I turn away and go into the bedroom, closing the door firmly behind me.