Page 69 of In the Same Boat

I’m not blushing, am I?

‘You take that side. I’ll stay over here,’ he suggests.

‘You say that like we’ll be far apart,’ I say with a laugh.

I lie down on my spot. Nico in his. Honestly, I may as well be on top of him for how close together we’re squashed. His broad shoulders fill his space completely.

‘Maybe we need to try different positions?’ I suggest.

He looks at me, unable to hide his grin.

‘Oh, you know what I mean,’ I reply.

Nico rummages around in a drawer and pulls out a clean T-shirt.

‘Here, if you want to sleep in this,’ he says as he hands it to me.

I hold it up in front of me.

‘It’s roomier than the bed,’ I joke. ‘It’s perfect, thank you.’

I head into his bathroom to get as ready for bed as I can – physically and mentally. What am I doing here? I mean, really. Sad as it sounds, I had this silly romantic notion that the next time I shared a bed with a man, it would be someone I really cared about.

I guess I’ve made my bed – pun intended – and now I have to lie in it. Oh, gosh, I have to lie in it. How the hell am I going to do this?

When I come back out, Nico’s stripped down to his boxers, in his place in bed, lying on his side. I suppose that could give us more space, but he is facing me.

I get in, trying to lie on my side, facing away from him, but my weight on the mattress causes his body to tip into mine. We lock together, spooning, for what feels like a lifetime but is only a split second before we repel each other like magnets of the same pole.

Every muscle I have aches from them all tightening at once. The second I felt his warm, rock-hard body up against mine, that was it. My body went into shock. It’s been a long time since it’s felt a man’s body against it – and, dare I say it, never a man as hot (on paper only, we do not fancy him) as Nico.

‘I’m better on my back,’ I say.

I don’t look at him, but I just know he’s grinning at my choice of words.

He isn’t as rattled by all of this as I am; he finds it funny. He’s far too relaxed, if you ask me – he should try worrying more. It does bug me, that nothing truly rattles him. Or if it does, he hides it well enough that nobody notices.

I’m beyond spiralling. I’m pirouetting like I’ve been training how to do it for years.

‘Sorry,’ I whisper, now that I’m on my back again.

He is, too. Our arms touching – but that’s easier than what was touching a moment ago.

‘No worries,’ he says.

No worries – ha. I have so many worries that they have to take turns.

Nico shifts beneath the duvet and then settles completely. Five minutes later his breathing evens out. Is he actually sleeping? Just like that. No thinking, no fretting, not fighting the demons. He’s tired, so he’s sleeping. Oh, how I envy him.

This better work – this weird little plan of ours. Because if it doesn’t, I’ve voluntarily trapped myself in a fake relationship on a boat with a man I’m trying very hard to have nothing to do with. And it sounds quite silly, when you think about it like that…

15

NICO

‘You’re hogging the bed,’ I tell her as I stir awake.

‘Am I? Or are you?’ she replies.