Page 76 of In the Same Boat

‘They’re looking,’ he says softly, turning back to me.

‘Of course they are.’

‘Are you going to do something?’ he asks.

‘Do you think we need to do more?’

He shrugs as his expression changes slightly. I don’t know to what, but it feels like just enough to make me wonder.

‘Relax,’ he tells me.

‘I am relaxed,’ I reply – admittedly not sounding all that relaxed.

I loosen my grip on him to place my hands on the sides of his face. I lean in a little closer, looking deep into his eyes.

‘See, I’m relaxed…’

‘You’re looking at me like I’m a pipe…’

I raise an eyebrow.

‘A work pipe,’ he clarifies.

‘Is that what you think my job is?’ I laugh.

‘Because you have such a clear vision of mine.’

‘I think I do,’ I insist.

‘Hmm.’

He grins at me.

‘Kiss me,’ I blurt. ‘I mean, pretend to kiss me.’

‘Erm, I think they’ll be able to tell if we’re faking it… Not that I’m suggesting we do it for real.’

‘Twirl me around,’ I say. ‘Turn me away from them, lean in, and let their imagination do the work.’

‘Yes, miss,’ he jokes.

We angle ourselves so Mum and Hank can only see enough to make the obvious assumptions from a distance. Nico lifts one hand to my wet hair, brushing it back from my cheek, and my body reacts so quickly I feel genuinely betrayed by it.

We’re acting, this is just another strategy, a way to get ourselves kicked off this holiday. I don’t know what will happen between Mum and Hank; as much as I want Mum to be happy, I am hoping things will fizzle out between them. It’s too much, too quickly. They’re jumping in at the deep end, and that never goes well for anyone, does it? But, either way, I want out. Even if it’s only a temporary measure. I’ll cross other bridges when I get to them.

Nico leans in, not fully, his mouth not quite reaching mine. He’s just close enough that from the yacht it probably looks like a kiss, his face near mine, his hand at the back of my neck now.

‘How long do we hold this?’ he asks quietly.

‘How long can you last?’ I can’t help but tease.

His mouth is very close to mine. Far too close for teetering on the edge of flirtation like that. What the hell am I doing?

‘You’re the project manager,’ he reminds me. ‘What’s next?’

What is next? I don’t know, I’m detached from my senses. I’m thinking about how warm his hand feels against my neck despite the water. How still we’ve both gone all of a sudden. How not quite kissing someone is somehow more effective foreplay than actually seeing it through, because this is weirdly hot for some reason.

I suppose, when you hate someone, and it’s just a clash of personalities, there’s nothing morally objectionable about them, then… I don’t know, there’s something kind of sexy about the idea of sleeping with the enemy, just… banging it out of your system.