I’m about to blankly refuse when I remember Rachel’s experiment. Go with the flow for a while… put your fate in someone else’s hands. ‘I’m not saying yes, and I’m not saying no,’ I reply eventually, still annoyed at the fact Ryan’s already decided what I will and will not ‘love’ about this city.
Ryan’s blonde hair is turning browner by the second as the steam works its way through to each strand. ‘Then what are you saying?’
I sweep a loose lock behind my ear and shrug. ‘I’m saying perhaps.’
‘What, you need to consult your diary or something?’ Ryan asks with a stifled laugh.
The corners of my mouth explode into a genuine smile. ‘Yes, something like that.’
It’s with a sense of unease that I make my way down to reception after spending at least half an hour asking the Magic Eight Ball if I should meet up with Ryan, in about twenty different ways.
‘You look wonderful,’ Ryan chirps from his armchair, where he’d been reading the newspaper wearing a pair of Ray-Bans. In my mind, there are only two sets of people who wear sunglasses indoors: the blind and dickheads. Knowing which category Ryan clearly fits into, I instantly turn to consult the ball one last time. ‘Should I really have lunch with this dickhead?’
The Magic Eight Ball evidently did not appreciate slurs about the opposite sex. I shake again. ‘Should I really have lunch with this man: Ryan Armstrong from America?’
‘Fine,’ I hiss.
‘Is everything okay?’ Ryan asks, walking over to where I’m frantically trying to shove the ball back into my oversized handbag.
‘Fine erm, weather…fine weather for a walk,’ I trill, turning so swiftly that the possessed item leaps out of its enclosure and rolls across the floor in a desperate bid not to remain my little secret any longer.
Like an overenthusiastic labrador, Ryan retrieves it. ‘Hey, cool. I’ve not seen one of these in years. I had one when I was in high school.’
‘Yes, well—’
‘Why is it in your bag?’
‘No reason, I just forgot it was in there that’s all.’
Ryan laughs and shakes his head. ‘Not buying it. Come on, tell me.’
‘I can’t. I mean, it’s weird.’
‘I lived in New York for six years where women have the fat sucked from their butt and pumped into their face during their lunch break. That’s weird.’
My shoulders relax without me telling them to do so and once again, I smile at the stranger. ‘I was simply going to use it to decide what I should do while I’m here. There are so many things to see and rather than be indecisive, I was going to go on a Tour De Ball.’
‘So let’s consult Magic Eight on what to do first: eat or sightsee.’ Ryan shakes the ball and lifts his sunglasses on to his head to read the response. ‘Outlook good,’ he nods.
‘To which one?’ I ask with a hint of desperation in my voice, prompted by the tightening in my stomach.
‘Sightseeing,’ he replies simply. ‘And will Charlie Something-Or-Other quit with the pretentious British girl routine and give me a break?’
Before he can finish shaking the black sphere, I snatch it from him and grin. ‘Ask again later.’
*
By early evening, I have marvelled at the towers and turrets of the Stadhuis, Bruges’ City Hall, enjoyed a tour of the Grote Markt and devoured a waffle twice the size of the average man’s head. Now strolling aimlessly along the cobbles of yet another gothically lined alleyway, I lose myself back in the memory of the City Hall’s ornately designed windows that had rejoiced in the orange light of the setting sun. I had made Ryan remove his sunglasses so he didn’t miss the last rays of light dancing with the swarthy clouds. He had stood open-mouthed, gawping at nature’s canvas like a little boy. It was in that moment I had recalibrated my opinion of him. Even the golden statues perching high upon the roof of the Stadhuis had surveyed my fading indifference with interest as two strangers from different sides of the world conversed easily about where they had come from and what they had done, before eventually settling into each other’s company perfectly as if they had known each other for weeks.
‘This way,’ Ryan says suddenly. I explode back into the present to discover the old stone buildings have been replaced by a long path bordered by a red brick wall and iron railings on one side and a battalion of trees on the other. Through the budding leaves, I see glimmers of light dancing on the water’s surface and soon lose myself in the rhythmic refraction. By the time the arborous army eventually stand aside, it reveals a bevy of swans gliding along the mirror-like surface of the shimmering lake, almost balletically. Ryan’s fingertips brush mine and for a moment, I forget to breathe.
‘Where are we?’ I ask eventually as Ryan gestures towards a bench sitting happily beneath the outreaching branches of a nearby willow tree.
‘Lake Minnewater I think. It’s known locally as the Lake of Love.’
I flinch at the word.
‘Hey, don’t blame me, blame Magic Eight,’ he laughs, raising his hands defensively.
Unsure how to reply, I simply shrug and proceed to sit on the moss-covered wood to watch as coloured lights begin to illuminate the buildings that line the water’s edge like luminescent soldiers on sentry duty. The swans, eight of them to be precise, continue to dance as their stage becomes more unearthly. The minutes pass until Ryan eventually asks me a question I know he’s been holding on to for quite some time.
‘Why have you really brought a Magic Eight Ball all this way? A normal tourist would just consult the internet for the best sights. Is it that you just can’t make up your own mind about things?’
I shift around to face him and begin to pull at a thread on my scarf. ‘It’s because I make up my mind too easily about things that I have it in the first place.’ Ryan’s silence means he wants me to explain. ‘For example,’ I continue after taking a deep breath, ‘I was going to say no to your lunch invitation because on first impressions, you seemed like a bit of a dick. However, my sister wants me to be a little less rigid with my opinions and decision making, as she thinks I’m narrow-minded.’ The truth comes too effortlessly and for a second I think I’ve offended him because his bottom lip is protruding as he digests what I’ve just confessed. ‘So I’m living my life by the ball because being narrow-minded just isn’t working for me right now.’
‘You’re not narrow-minded,’ he replies surprisingly after turning his attentions to the avian ballet. ‘I mean, I wouldn’t say I was a “dick” necessarily but I would say you’re a girl who evidently knows what she wants and in my country that’s not necessarily a negative trait.’ He turns and fixes me with his steely-blue eyes. ‘In fact, it’s quite attractive.’
Unable to hold his glare, I drop my chin and feel flutterings pervade my chest. ‘But it’s a negative trait when I want the wrong things, Ryan.’
‘Like what?’ he shrugs.
‘Like an ex-boyfriend who decided to trade me in for a younger model before actually telling me he wanted to split up.’
‘Why would you want a guy like that back?’ Ryan asks, his lips crinkling in confusion.
‘Because – because…we were so good together.’ I emphasize the word ‘so’ in such a way, it sounds almost orgasmic. Ryan clearly hears it too as his blonde eyebrows head north.
‘He was so good that even cheating on you didn’t put you off?’
I don’t answer.
‘I see. The halo effect,’ he nods.
‘What’s that?’
‘It means because the sex was so good, you refuse to see him for the moron he evidently is.’
‘Don’t be—’
‘And because you refuse to think anyone else will surpass the bar, which he has clearly set so high, your judgement of every single man you’ve subsequently met and are yet to meet is negatively influenced.’
I’m looking everywhere to avoid his gaze and feel the blood rush to my face. My cheeks billow as I exhale with a whistle. ‘Someone ate a
bowl-full of Freud for breakfast.’
He laughs. ‘Don’t take my word for it, Charlie,’ he says, waving the Magic Eight Ball in front of me.
‘It’s just a toy,’ I laugh nervously. ‘This whole trip is just a stupid game my sister and I cooked up.’
Ryan ignores me and starts shaking the black sphere in between his legs. I dread to think how onlookers would interpret this act in the fading light and feel myself blush again. ‘OK, you’ve shaken it up well enough,’ I whisper loudly.
Ryan ignores me and continues violating the ball between his knees. He concentrates on his nether regions for the next few seconds before finally looking up with a grin. ‘Just as I suspected.’
‘What?’
‘Your ex-boyfriend?
‘Yes?’ I ask wearily.
‘Is a waste of space who karma has decreed will never be content in love or life. You on the other hand, will find eternal bliss in the arms of a stranger… An American stranger to be precise.’
‘It did not say that.’
Ryan passes it back to me and I cradle it as if it’s made of crystal rather than plastic. ‘Go ahead and ask it yourself if you don’t believe me.’
My eyes flit between his soft lips and the two voluptuous ends of the number which seems to be getting me into a whole load of trouble. I concentrate on what I want the ball to tell me before asking the silent question.
I smirk as the letters appear out of the dark blue liquid. ‘Better not tell you now.’
Ryan shrugs. ‘Well, perhaps Magic Eight wants you to make your own mind up before telling you how it’s gonna be.’
‘Oh really? How it’s “gonna” be?’
‘Sure. Hey, Magic Eight,’ he calls loudly enough for someone on the other side of the lake to hear, ‘have you ever been wrong yet?’
I enact the now familiar movement of shaking and turning over the spherical sooth-sayer. ‘My reply is no.’
‘And should Miss Charlie Neilson from Abingdon let go of her past and embrace her future?’
‘It is certain.’
‘Was meeting me a turning point in her life?’
‘You may rely on it.’
‘And will she let me kiss her later after we’ve spent the rest of the evening walking around this magnificent city?’
I pause, searching my own psyche for an answer rather than the ball. A breathless laugh escapes my lips as Ryan slides his hand across my bruised knees towards my tense fingers. His skin brushes against mine as he retrieves the Magic Eight Ball from my grasp, sending a pleasurably uncomfortable feeling up my arm and across my chest. ‘You’re supposed to be relinquishing control, Charlie,’ he soothes.
‘But what if it’s not the answer I want?’ I ask suddenly.
Ryan smiles. ‘Then it’s just not meant to be.’
My forlorn expression melts into a mischevious grin I thought I’d lost around six months ago. ‘And how do you know which answer I want?’
‘Magic Eight has already told me.’
Without looking to me for a response, Ryan proceeds to ask the question about the possibility of a future kiss I now really want to share. Seconds later, he looks up with an unreadable expression and I will him to flash me his porcelain grin to let me know the answer. But his pink lips don’t move.
Taking back the child’s toy, which had changed me so much already in such a short space of time, I hold my breath before forcing my gaze towards my fate.
My stomach sinks to the floor and my mouth falls agape. ‘No, that’s not right. That’s not fair,’ I protest. ‘For the first time I actually —’
‘Charlie,’ Ryan’s smooth voice hushes. I look up to see a flash of white as the corners of his mouth spread wider apart. My chest begins to quiver as without a word, Ryan leans slowly forwards and places his fingers on the back of my head with a gentle strength.
Our noses are just inches apart when I try to pull away but Ryan keeps my head fixed in place. ‘But we can’t Ryan, it said—’
‘I changed my question,’ he replies, the scent of Belgian chocolate clinging to his warm breath. ‘I asked it if Miss Charlie Neilson would refuse me if, in five seconds, I pulled her face towards me and breathed in the scent of her perfume before pulling her lips to mine.’
My stomach flips and the butterflies in my chest burst into their finale. I see myself in the dark of his eyes and smile. I caress his cheek and feel the day’s stubble kiss my fingers. The act causes his arms to wrap around my waist and pull me closer into his body. ‘Well,’ I say breathlessly, ‘The Magic Eight Ball has never been wrong yet, has it?’
About the Author
Laurey Buckland is a 28-year-old journalist turned English teacher from Nottinghamshire who loves nothing more than to write about tumultuous adventure that is love. She self-published her first novel A Girl’s Guide to Fairy Tales in 2012 and is working on her second, A Girl’s Guide to Glitterati, in between teaching her pupils to appreciate the joys of a well-executed simile. Her short story Divine Intervention appeared in Belinda Jones’ first Sunlounger anthology and she is delighted to have been invited to write for this summer’s sequel.
Twitter: www.twitter.com/LaureyBuckland
Facebook: www.facebook.com/LaureyBuckland-Author
Visit www.sunloungerstories.com to discover more about the authors and their story destinations.
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The Party Boat
***
Jo Carnegie
DESTINATION: Croatia
Of all the stupid, mindless things Nev had ever done – and there had been a lot of them in their twenty-two years of marriage – this had to be the worst. Sue should have just gone ahead and booked the holiday herself like she always did, instead of letting Nev talk her round. Then they wouldn’t be in this bloody mess.
‘It will be one less thing for you to stress about love,’ he’d told her. ‘Leave it with me; you don’t have to worry about a thing.’
One less thing to stress about – the irony! Sue didn’t think she’d ever been so stressed in her entire life.
She’d even done all the research for the luxury cruise around Croatia. Their yacht was called the Seraphina – a sexy, sleek number that could have sailed in straight out of a James Bond film. All Nev had to do was book it. Well, he’d booked a boat alright – only just not the one that Sue had set her heart on.
They had been due to set sail from Dubrovnik, Croatia’s capital. Sue had gazed down on the ancient walled city that sat on the edge of the deep blue Adriatic and had fallen instantly in love. She had snuck a quick, delighted smile at Nev and had found him looking back at her in the same way.
‘I reckon this holiday is going to be just what we need, love.’
The first sign things were not right was when they made their way to the harbour. Sue’s heart had soared again at the sight of the Seraphina. It was every bit as luxurious in real life. Attractive young crew in snowy-white uniforms were bustling efficiently round on the spacious deck. In an hour or so Sue would be reclining on one of those superior-looking sunloungers with a G&T in her hand and nothing more to think about than what she was going to eat for lunch. Rest and relaxation: that was all she needed. It was what they both needed, she’d thought. Some proper quality time together to get us back on track…
Sue had put her hands up to shield her eyes. There certainly was a lot of action going on. Someone who looked like he might be the captain had appeared on deck and had called something to the crew. He had disappeared again and moments later the vessel had suddenly shuddered into life.
Frowning, Sue had looked at her watch. They hadn’t been due to set sail for another forty minutes. Maybe they were just warming the engines up.
Thick ropes had been mooring the vessel to the side of the concrete pier, and Sue watched as the suntanned young men standing on-land cast them off into the water. A feeling of panic had started in her
chest.
‘Nev!’ she’d shouted, her eyes fixated on the Seraphina. ‘I think they’re leaving without us!’
She’d looked round wildly for her husband, but he’d done his normal trick when they were on holiday and had wandered off God-only knows where. Sue had gone off like a Grand National starter down the steep hill, bumping her suitcase behind her, not caring about the strange looks she was attracting.
‘Wait!’ she’d screamed, but her voice had been swallowed up in the roar of the engines. ‘Come back!’
They’ll stop, she’d thought frantically. They’ll see me waving and realize they’ve left us behind.
Her husband had found her five minutes later, a frozen little statue by the water’s edge with her wheeled suitcase behind her.
‘I was wondering where you’d got to,’ he’d said.
‘It’s gone,’ Sue had said in a croak, as if the Seraphina had sailed off with her voice as well.
Nev had looked puzzled. ‘What’s gone?’
His wife had pointed. ‘Our boat. It’s left without us.’
He had followed her gaze, to where their luxury cruise had been literally sailing off into the horizon.
‘Oh shit,’ was all he’d said.
By the time they had stormed back up the hill to the tiny booking office to complain, the horrible truth had emerged. The Seraphina had left without them because they weren’t meant to be on the cruise in the first place.
‘You’re booked on Sapphire II,’ the nonchalant girl with a Midlands accent informed them. ‘You’re due to depart at two.’
Sue had breathed in and let the news digest. Keep calm. This didn’t have to be bad. They might have ended up with an accidental upgrade and the Sapphire II might be even more luxurious than the Seraphina.
SUNLOUNGER 2: Beach Read Bliss (Sunlounger Stories) Page 12