Page 53 of Washed Up

Under.

Her cheeks flushed hard at the thought. At his offer to get back at Dylan. Right there and then.

Frankie had never been with anyone that way. Never even had a proper kiss. Never had the opportunity on the island, truth be told, and even if she had, she was shy about her body, shy about her looks, used to being in her mother’s shadow. Used to wearing floaty clothes and passing invisibly around the place. Used to not being noticed.

Part of her had resigned itself to never meeting anyone, to living a life on Herm like the old-fashioned spinsters she read about in novels, watching others around her experience the trials and tribulations of love and lust and all that comes with it, with Frankie blissfully or perhaps not so blissfully untroubled by it.

And now… for the first time in her life, she’d had two really proper near misses. Two men – actual men, not boyband hopefuls off the ferry – had shown interest in her and one… one was claiming to have had a crush on her for years. How was that possible?

He’d surprised her for sure. Who knew Jake the fisherman could be that sexy?

Frankie was still running through the conversation in her mind as she flopped down on her bed. She had to talk to Sally. Sally hadn’t shown up in the pub and a twinge of guilt pulled at her at the thought she might have actually upset her friend. Tomorrow was Saturday, changeover day for most of the guests, Sally would be around at the harbour. She’d catch her there at lunchtime. That was a plan.

Decision made, Frankie settled back onto the pillow, the sound of the waves doing its work, relaxing her mind. She was drifting off to sleep, Jake’s green eyes floating behind her eyelids, when her phone lit up on the bedside table beside her. Instagram. A notification.

In seconds she was wide awake.

She pushed the cushions against the headboard and sat up, yanking her phone off charge and bringing it close to her face, heart tapping out a frantic rhythm on her ribs.

She opened the app. It was him. A message. Oh God.

All thoughts of Jake and Sally vanished in a heartbeat as she opened it.

Dylan: Hey you. You’ve got a new phone. Welcome to the modern world. So sorry it’s been a minute. Crazy week. How have you been? X

Oh God. He was online right now.

Frankie: (Biting her lip) Hey, stranger. Thought you’d forgotten about me.

She deleted it hastily. Too needy.

Frankie: Hi, Dylan, great to hear from you. How did it all go? x

How exactly did one speak to an international rock star? It had been so much easier when she was oblivious to his fame. When he was simply that annoying guy who’d got himself stranded on her island. Now it was like they were strangers again.

She waited. One beat. Two. Three.

Then, joy of joys, a reply.

Dylan: Great, actually. Last night totally rocked. We had a load of A-listers come backstage after. I even got to meet Ed Sheeran.

Frankie’s mind snagged on one word. Backstage. Backstage meant groupies. A-listers meant models, pop stars. Girls, basically.

She took a deep breath before replying, swallowing down her jealousy.

Frankie: That is extremely cool.

Dylan: Oh hey! You’re still there. Hello! And IKR? We were meant to support him a couple of years ago and we never got the chance. He was super cool. I knew he would be.

Frankie: Listen to you. He was probably just as excited to meet you.

Dylan: Impossible. The man’s a legend. What songwriting. Wow.

Frankie: And he loves your music. That’s awesome.

Dylan: Well… being honest, he probably got free tickets, but yeah. It’s pretty cool. Bloody glad I didn’t know he was there before I went on stage.

Frankie: Don’t tell me the famous Dylan from the Misdemeanours gets starstruck.