Page 95 of In the Same Boat

I realise it’s the water he wants.

‘Sure,’ I say, handing him the bottle. I notice a puzzled look on his face, as he sees how squashed the plastic is, but he doesn’t say anything.

I sit on the end of the bed, at his feet, rather than get back in. I should probably stay out of it for good now.

‘Sooo,’ I say lightly, aiming for casual, but dragging out the word far too long to be natural, ‘last night was probably a bit silly.’

Something shifts in his face instantly.

‘Silly?’ he replies – as though the word silly itself is, well, silly.

‘We were very drunk,’ I point out. ‘Very, very drunk.’

He keeps quiet, leaving me to do the talking, which makes me feel even more nervous.

I laugh softly, trying to give off an air of easy-breeziness, like I do this sort of thing all the time.

‘It’s funny, we were trying to get our parents drunk and making bad choices, but we essentially only got ourselves drunk, and made our own terrible decisions – I guess that’s karma in action, right?’

Still nothing. Bloody hell. Why is he making me do all the talking? Is this his strategy for getting rid of one-night stands? Stony silence until they overthink themselves into imploding in front of him?

‘I think maybe we got carried away,’ I continue. ‘And it probably shouldn’t have happened. We got caught up in the plan, which didn’t work, by the way…’

Still nothing. I pause for a second, wondering how to cap this off, and the solution to all of my problems strikes me like lightning. I love it when that happens.

‘It has, however, got me thinking of a new plan, one that will definitely work,’ I say. I pause, giving him a chance to speak, or at least ask what it is, but he just stares at me expectantly. ‘Last night was a terrible mistake, we know that, and it won’t be happening again, so the thing that makes the most sense… we break up. Now that’s awkward. That way we’ll have to go home.’

‘You’ve got it all figured out, eh?’ he replies.

I nod.

‘I think this time it might actually work.’

And I kind of hate that that’s true, but it’s the only safe option.

‘Right,’ he says.

That’s it? Just… right? No argument. No disappointment. No trying to convince me otherwise. No trying to make me feel better about things.

I get that unpleasant, heavy feeling in my stomach again. Because of course he agrees – I just handed him the last parachute on a golden platter and he’s more than happy to snatch it up. Even if it leaves me without one.

Men like Nico (and I know this from what his dad said) probably do this all the time. A casual holiday fling, just sex, no consequences, all wrapped up by breakfast, because why let it spoil a good breakfast?

Ugh, I feel so clownish for going along with it, for letting myself think that this could be anything more than a silly holiday fling. A brief rocking of the boat – well, not that it was all that brief, but in the grand scheme of things, one night together doesn’t mean anything, does it?

I force a smile regardless.

‘Good,’ I say, clapping my hands together like a dork, like we just came up with the most mundane plan together, for something simple like making lunch, not dissolving our entire weird… partnership, for lack of a better word. ‘Glad we’re on the same page.’

Nico looks cool, calm, unreadable. Oh, he definitely does this all the time. He’s so impressive while I’m floundering.

‘No worries,’ he tells me.

I, of course, have many, many worries.

I nod quickly, like that settles everything perfectly.

I should head back to my cabin, gather my things, and sort myself a flight home.