*
Katie shook me awake, sun streaming through the windows and on to my eyes. ‘Jen. Oi, Jen. You don’t have to change your flight. Wake up.’
‘Eh?’ I struggled upright.
‘You don’t have to change your flight, you should stay.’
‘I can’t stay without you, this is our holiday.’
‘Don’t be silly, it’s only a couple of days. You stay, I’ll fly home. You’ll be fine on your own, and you have Will.’
‘But you can’t fly all the way back by yourself. What if you get travel sick? Or the plane crashes? Or you run out of room in your handbag to hoard all those mini bottles of wine?’ OK, I really was being silly. First I don’t want to go, now I don’t want to stay. Except I definitely wanted to stay…
‘I fly places on my own all the time, I’ll be fine. And I think you will be, too.’
‘I don’t want to,’ I lied.
‘Liar.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes, but get up, I want to head off to Sydney ASAP, and drink that wine in front of the Opera House with you before I fly home tomorrow.’
‘It has to be tomorrow?’
‘Yep, but we’ll make today brilliant, and you have to promise to make the rest of the week spectacular. You finish that list,’ she winked, and yanked my bed covers away.
*
‘Here we are, we made it.’ Katie clinked her wine glass against mine, and sat back to look up at the Opera House. We’d arrived in Sydney at dusk, and Will had gone to his friend’s house and left us alone for the night, to enjoy it together.
‘It’s been the best holiday ever.’
‘The Best Summer Ever?’
‘Nearly…but now you’re leaving. I don’t want to end this without you.’
‘You have to; you still have one thing on the list.’
‘Thanks for being awesome. I’ll miss you,’ I sulked, swirling my rosé.
‘I can’t wait to hear all about it next weekend.’
‘Do you feel you’ve had a good holiday too? It hasn’t all been about me, has it?’
‘Are you kidding? I’ve had the best time! I’m chuffed to bits that you let me come along for the ride! I never did the backpacking thing, so this road trip’s been like a well-needed tonic for both of us, I think.’
I nodded.
‘Come on, you flamin’ galah. Let’s go and gatecrash the Opera House.’
*
The following morning, Katie said goodbye to us both outside the hotel. She refused to be driven to the airport as she said it would cut into valuable sightseeing time.
‘Thanks,’ I whispered into her ear. ‘For everything. You’ll always be my real summer crush, you know.’
‘Well tough titties, I’m getting married. Love you honeypie, I want to hear all about the smooching when you get home.’
She left, and suddenly it was just me and Will. Even though we’d been almost inseparable since meeting, Katie had always been nearby. Now she’d left and I’d stayed, I felt awkward, like a teenager out of her depth. I couldn’t think of anything else to say, so it seemed as good a time as any.
‘Do you want to go to the beach this evening? Maybe have a bonfire?’
*
‘It’s much colder in Sydney, hey? Told you it was winter.’
Will and I were huddled around a campfire on Bondi Beach, miles of sand stretching all around us and sleepy waves rolling under the dusky sky.
I nodded. I was being ridiculous around him, too shy to string a sentence together.
‘Do you want my sweater?’ he asked, like a true teen movie star. Just say it, I told myself. The final point on the list. JUST SAY IT, YOU FANNY.
‘I’ve had a really really good holiday,’ I told him, which caused him to slow smile and my heart to drip melting ice cream. ‘And you kind of…helped.’
‘I’ve had a blast too, thanks for letting me come along.’
‘Thanks for coming.’
‘I didn’t get in the way?’
‘No. Nor did you murder us, so you know…thanks.’
‘I’ll miss you,’ he said simply, laying a heavy, warm hand on the leg of my jeans.
‘Immamissyoutoo,’ I mumbled. It had to be now. ‘Will…’ He turned to me, his face sad and I didn’t know why, but I wanted to see his smile again. ‘I really will miss you, because I really like you, more than just as a satnav.’
But his smile didn’t come back to me, and I didn’t understand where it had gone. He was lost in thought, drifting away, and I felt stupid, like a stupid teenager.
‘Forget I said anything – please… Only joking, me old guvna!’ For crying out loud, Jen.
‘I read your magazine in the car, you know. I read the list. I avoided the beach bonfire until now because I didn’t want to just be “the final tickbox”. But you had to complete it, I get that.’
‘Hold on – do you think that’s the only reason we’re here?’
‘Isn’t it? You needed to confess you had the hots for someone. Enter Will.’
I shuffled closer, whether he wanted me to or not. ‘When I booked this trip, I was so not looking for someone to fancy. My plan to cross that off the list was always to tell Katie that she was my best friend and I loved her to bits at the end of the holiday. I didn’t think I’d meet someone like you.’
We stared at the crackling flames for a long time. It was time to stop acting like a teenager. ‘I wish I knew what you were thinking.’
‘I’m thinking that I really like you too. You’re interesting, sweet, a great laugh, and you seem to want to know about me, for some reason. I’m not one of those blokes that picks up backpackers left, right and centre. But you live too far away.’
‘I know. It’s OK, you don’t need to justify reasons we shouldn’t be together, please just leave it.’
‘No, I mean – it sucks because you live so far away. What about when you’re gone?’
‘I know.’
Will let out a sigh and turned to me with a soft smile. ‘This is dramatic, hey? I suppose…we like each other…we’re here…why not enjoy it while it lasts?’ He threw a shell into the fire. ‘You wanna pash?’
A booming laugh escaped me. ‘Why not?’
And he came closer, and to the crackle of flames and the lapping of waves, like we were in some kind of Sweet Valley romance, my summer crush kissed me. And for the record, he did taste salty, like the sea waves.
‘Maybe you should just stay for the whole summer,’ he murmured into my hair.
‘But the list is done, what have I got to stay for?’
‘Start working on another list. I noticed in your magazine a great article about trying out new kissing techniques. Have you tested all of those?’
‘Not for a while…’
*
For the final two days of my trip, I treated myself to a carefree, zero-responsibility fling with my holiday romance. He showed me around this beautiful city, from the flying foxes in the Botanical Gardens, to the sparkling Darling Harbour, and everything in between.
I held on to him for a really long time at the airport. Even Leo ducked his head back into my handbag out of embarrassment.
‘I got you some Tim Tams.’ Will handed me a plastic bag brimming with the world’s best chocolate biscuits.
‘Finally, this is the Best Summer Ever!’ He leant his forehead against mine. I smiled up at him, because I had to be brave and grown-up. Holidays can’t last forever. ‘I’ll be back one day. I don’t know when.’
‘I’ll be here. I’ll miss you, J.’
‘I’ll miss you too, Will. Time went too quickly. Thanks for being my summer crush.’
He kissed me. He smiled one last time. And I turned and walked through security.
I took a deep breath, gazing out of the huge glass window at the aeroplanes rolling into position outside. Pulling out my magazine, I gazed at Leo on the cover before flicking to the article.
Tick, tick, tick, I thought, reading
down the list. I’d followed the guide to a tee. Was I the same woman who left the UK just two weeks ago? In a way I was more me than ever. The serious, sensible, heart-broken me I’d become had melted away under the Aussie sun, revealing the me I once was – happy, carefree, open-hearted.
I hated to leave this beautiful, amazing country. I hated to leave Will. But I wouldn’t forget my summer in the Southern Hemisphere. I didn’t need to be a teenager anymore to have fun. But it did feel good to act like one sometimes.
About the Author
Lisa Dickenson was born in the wrong body. She was definitely meant to be Beyoncé. Despite this hardship, she grew up in Devon attempting to write her own, completely copyright-infringing versions of Sweet Valley High, before giving Wales a go for university, and then London a go for the celeb-spotting potential. She's now back in Devon, living beside the seaside with her husband and forcing cream teas down the throats of anyone who'll visit. She is sadly still not Beyoncé. But on the plus side, her first book, The Twelve Dates of Christmas, is out now, and her second, You Had Me At Merlot, will be sloshing its way onto eReaders this summer.
Website: www.lisadickenson.com
Twitter: www.twitter.com/LisaWritesStuff
Visit www.sunloungerstories.com to discover more about the authors and their story destinations.
We have everything you need to make this your Best Summer Ever!
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Connecting Flights
***
Poppy Dolan
DESTINATION: Spain
‘Peanut?’
In a perfect world, that would be a cute nickname a cute boyfriend calls me.
But in the real world, it’s the bloke in the aisle seat offering me his in-flight snack. OK, so he’s a bit cute but I can’t really contemplate whether he has a touch of the Gosling while my head is just full of ‘WE ARE ALL GOING TO DIE IN THIS STEEL COFFIN!’
I really really hate flying. Really. Hate. It. And now my arsing cousin is getting married in Spain. Spain! And not just Spain, but a part of Spain which involves connecting flights: San Sebastian. Connecting flights being a fancy way of saying ‘two chances to die’. Two different engines that might explode, four different wings which might just wobble off mid-air, two black boxes which might record: Passenger Amy Peevey screamed all the way down, for 10,000 feet. Until she was splattered into the Alps.
‘Not keen on flying then?’ Nuts Man continues. To seem just a tiny bit sane, I unclutch my fingers from around the arm rests and take the foil bag from him. He doesn’t need to know I’m allergic.
Mind you, if I leave them in my handbag, when the CSI teams work their way through the wreckage they’ll find a body with a bag of peanuts and my mum and dad will say, ‘Oh that can’t be Amy, she doesn’t eat nuts.’ And then my body will be unclaimed and unnamed and I’ll have to haunt Heathrow forever, goosing people at the perfume counter.
I shouldn’t have had that double espresso for my nerves.
I give Nuts Man a polite, closed-lipped smile and turn back to the window.
‘Where’s the weirdest place you’ve ever had sex?’
He’s leaning in towards me now, over the empty seat. He doesn’t have a pervy look on his face, just a thoughtful, contemplative one, as if he’s just asked if I think there’ll ever be peace in the Middle East or whether one day Dolphins might rise up to rule us all.
‘Huh?’
He throws his hands up in a ‘So sue me’ gesture. ‘Well, it distracted you from fiery death thoughts for a minute, right?’
I had to laugh at this. ‘Yes. Thanks. Sorry, I’ve just always had this phobia. I might be a pain in the arse to sit next to. Sorry.’
‘Don’t worry. But I’m glad you’ve been thinking about my arse.’ Nuts Guy unbuckles his belt and hops into the empty seat. His flirting is accelerating quicker than this jet.
‘Now we’ve talked about your bum, we should probably introduce ourselves, I suppose. Amy.’
‘Bill.’
‘How do you do, Bill?’ I laugh at this weird back-to-front encounter.
He presses his lips together, mock-stern. ‘I’m getting impatient, actually. You haven’t answered my question. Come on, then.’
I can feel my ears go plum red. ‘Wha—? You’re not serious! I don’t know you.’
Bill sighs. ‘I guess we’ll never really know each other, unless we can share these things.’
I fiddle with my nail varnish for a second. It’s pale, pearly pink under Christina’s orders, but I personally think it looks a bit too much like prawn cocktail.
Oh, sod it. I’m never going to see this guy again and if it’s a fun few hours then my nerves will thank me for it.
But I’ve never told anyone this, not even my best mate Clara or my lovely desk buddy at work, Renee. Goes without saying that I’ve never told Mum. But she forced this plane ticket on me, telling me it was time to face the fear and do it anyway, try new things, be brave. And as she and Dad were already booked in on their flaming cruise, I had to go and put the best Peevey foot forward. Not sure this is quite what she had in mind, but Bill is giving me a challenging look, like he thinks I’m too much of a chicken.
Not this Peevey, no sir.
‘Fine. I did it in the cinema once.’
‘Pfft. That’s not that weird.’
‘While watching Titanic.’
‘OK. Now I’m interested. So was it during the car bit? The steamy windows thing.’
‘Actually, and grossly enough, it was during the sinking. When the boat is, like, sticking up in the water,’ I demonstrate this with my hands. ‘And all the people are falling down, wheeeee, and bouncing off the propeller.’ I do little twirls in the air with my fingers.
Bill shifts back a bit into his seat. ‘And all that death made you horny?’
I so wish the air stewardess hadn’t stopped by right that minute to collect our empty drinks cups. I burst into a nervous laugh.
‘No! No. It was actually the fourth time I’d seen the film and so the propeller wheeeeeing was actually making me laugh. I was laughing so much everyone else was getting pissed off, so my boyfriend started kissing me to shut me up. Then the kissing went on… and on.’
Bill’s shoulders relax a little. ‘Oh, I get it. And how old were you?’
‘Seventeen.’
‘Right. And how did you… position-wise? There’s a space issue in a cinema, surely?’
I nod sagely. ‘There is. But don’t call me Shirley.’ I lean over and whisper in his ear.
As Bill’s eyes widen, his smile broadens. ‘Aha. Ahuh. Hmm.’ He holds out his hand and I shake it. ‘Amy, I am officially impressed.’
‘Thanks!’ Feeling oddly proud, I sit back into my seat, my spine loosening for the first time all week.
Just then, the bing-bongs come on and the pilot announces we’ll be landing in Bilbao in ten minutes. And before you can say ‘crash positions’ my spine has gone back to being a scaffolding pole.
‘Don’t worry,’ murmurs Bill softly. ‘I haven’t told you my weirdest one yet. That’ll keep us busy for at least ten minutes, if not into baggage claim.’
‘You again.’
I take out my ear buds and Bon Jovi’s tiny voice squeaks from my palm. Bill stands in front of me, a camouflage patterned holdall slung over one shoulder. Now I’m on solid ground, I can appreciate his cuteness. Well, he’s not so much cute as attractively care-worn. His brown hair is closely shorn, showing off a great tan all over. He’s got dark brown eyes but now and again they have an inquisitive flash to them. I wonder if he asks everyone about their strangest sexual exploits? Maybe he’s got Tourette’s and it wasn’t flirting, just an uncontrollable verbal tick. There are creases at the corners of his eyes which the sun hasn’t quite caught, but it’s strangely attractive.
I really didn’t expect to see him again – I’m already feeling the lead weight of shame in my stomach for being quite so honest about that time in Screen 12 – but here
he is, casual and confident at gate B23. I was going to take the feel-good rock approach to this second flight. If Jon Bon and his raspy tones couldn’t get me through the forty minutes to San Sebastian, nothing could. But maybe I’d have something better to keep me occupied now.
‘Are you going to San Sebastian?’
‘Yup. Small world, heh?’ He plonks down onto a metal airport seat, rubbing his hands along the arm rests. ‘You know, this bench reminds me of a cinema seat, about the same width I’d say. Good back support. I’m sure no one would notice…’
I beat him with my copy of Eat, Pray, Love. Hard. ‘That story stays above the clouds, OK? I only really told you because I thought I’d never see you again. Ever.’
Bill holds up his hands in defence. ‘OK, OK. Fair enough. You go back to living on a prayer and I’m going to trudge on with this,’ he holds up an Open University textbook with ‘Introduction to Accountancy’ in capitals cross the front. ‘I was supposed to be on Chapter Four anyway, but your lewd sex stories diverted me.’
And that would be the moment a family of five walk past me. The parents give me the evil eye. Their teenage son winks.
‘Now this is just ridiculous. Are you stalking me?’
‘Ha! The taxi rank is hardly private property, mate. Or do you think you have twenty stalkers to worry about?’
Bill looks up and down the line. ‘Fair point. Would you be up for sharing a cab? I could do with saving some euros.’
‘Sure.’ I’m pretty sure this is a safe thing to do. If he gets any ideas in the back seat I’ll just flick him in the balls. My brother taught me that self-defence trick the first time his mate commented on my arse, when I was fifteen.
When we finally shuffle our way to the front of the taxi rank, Bill is all gentlemanly and puts my suitcase in the back.
‘The Hotel Maria Christina, por favor.’ I can’t help rolling my Rs. It feels like I might convince the taxi driver I know more Spanish than just ‘por favor’. Except I don’t. ‘Where are you going?’ I whisper to Bill as he slides in next to me. His jeans smell a bit musty but he has a citrusy aftershave on which tickles my nose nicely.
SUNLOUNGER 2: Beach Read Bliss (Sunlounger Stories) Page 17