Page 92 of In the Same Boat

On the one hand, I can’t believe we’re doing this. On the other hand, it feels like it was inevitable, like this was always going to happen from the second we met.

I’m half laughing against his mouth as I run my hands up his back, and he kisses me harder, like he’s been trying not to do this for days. Maybe he has. Maybe I have too.

His mouth moves to my neck briefly and I genuinely forget my own name.

‘Mmm,’ I groan.

This is so…

There’s a loud bang on the door, probably just someone checking to see if this room is free, but it pours ice-cold water on our little moment.

‘We shouldn’t be doing this, should we?’ I whisper.

‘No,’ he replies.

His forehead rests briefly against mine as we catch our breath.

‘Shall we…’

‘Back to the yacht?’ he suggests.

‘You read my mind,’ I tell him.

I know, we’re drunk, we’re in a complicated situation, we shouldn’t be doing this.

I know that. But the alcohol and the chemistry have hijacked my senses; they know what I want better than I do.

There’s no turning back.

Plus, we’re only pretending anyway. Right…?

22

SAMMIE

This hangover wasn’t meant for me.

If you ever wonder whether karma is real or not, believe me, it is. I had this in mind for my poor, innocent mum.

There’s a very specific kind of regret reserved for waking up hungover in daylight beside someone you know you absolutely should not have slept with.

It’s not catastrophic, it’s oddly calm – it’s more like a concern, if anything.

And it hit me before I even opened my eyes. I thought my head was throbbing, but it was my brain, tapping me awake, asking me:Did you really think this through, hun?

I pry open my eyes and stare at the ceiling of Nico’s cabin for a moment.

Nico is still beside me – so that’s a good start – asleep on his front, one arm curled beneath the pillow, breathing slowly and steadily like everything in the world is exactly as it should be.

Maybe it is. But maybe it isn’t.

My stomach twists into knots at the thought.

I pull the duvet a little higher against myself and close my eyes briefly, wondering if I can fall back asleep, deal with this later.

I just can’t believe it happened. Any of it. Going to the club, sitting in the VIP section – I still need to ask him how he pulled that off – but the rest of it was a blur. The drinking, the games, going to the toilets – but from the moment that door closed, honestly, I remember everything in almost excruciating detail. The kind where all you can think about is how you get to do it all again. Either we’re both really, really good at pretending, or something real happened. Something I can’t quite get my head around.

I glance sideways at him again before I can stop myself. Ugh, he’s so hot. How was I able to kid myself that he wasn’t for so long?