Page 30 of It's All Sun and Games

‘I am,’ I reply, still baffled that this seems to be getting his attention, but I’m not complaining because I’ve been trying to get his attention for years now.

‘Since when?’ he replies. ‘How long have you and young Al Pacino been a thing?’

I keep my cool, smiling on the inside, so that he can’t tell what I’m thinking.

‘Oh, quite a while,’ I reply. ‘I guess I just see work as work, there’s no need to share my private life with anyone there, you know?’

James narrows his eyes at me.

‘You know, I could’ve sworn you had flirted with me,’ he points out. ‘Several times. And asked me out.’

‘As colleagues,’ I point out.

‘That’s not the impression I got,’ he says as he gets as close to the edge of his balcony as he can. His voice is much lower now, so I step closer too, so that I can still hear. ‘I can tell when a girl is into me. Do you know what I think?’

‘What?’ I reply, again doing my best to keep my cool, not wanting to give the game away by falling at the first hurdle.

‘I think you were flirting with me,’ he says confidentially. ‘I think you’re a bad girl. I guess I underestimated you.’

I allow myself to smile, just a little, as I shrug off his words.

‘People often underestimate me,’ I tell him. ‘They shouldn’t.’

James grins as he looks my robe up and down.

‘Are you still wearing that dress under there?’ he asks curiously, his eyes homing in on the front, a look on his face that seems to be either willing the robe to fall open or mustering up the power to see straight through it.

‘Nope,’ I reply. ‘It’s on my bedroom floor.’

‘Well, if you ever want to see it on mine, you know where I am,’ he tells me as he slowly backs away. ‘See you at dinner later. Both of you.’

And with that he heads back into his apartment.

I plonk myself down in one of the patio seats. He was flirting with me, wasn’t he? Without a shadow of a doubt. James has never flirted with me, never ever, not even close.

And now, just because he thinks I have a fiancé, he’s all over me.

I never knew ‘speculate to accumulate’ could apply to men.

13

As Andrea and I stroll arm in arm through the luxurious resort grounds, making our way to the hotel’s beachfront restaurant, I feel like I’m in a dream. Well, this can’t be my real life, surely? My real life never plays out like this – although, in fairness, it’s not real, is it? This is all for show. What a show, though!

The evening sun casts a golden glow over everything, bathing the bright green plants that seriously pop against all the white-rendered walls here. It’s the kind of sun that makes everyone look like they have a tan, even if they don’t – even if, like me, they’ve spent months and months in Manchester wearing dark clothes and barely seeing the sun.

This evening, despite us not knowing that this is what we were doing, I would say that the two of us have scrubbed up well. Andrea looks effortlessly chic in his cream shirt, the lightweight fabric moving gently in the breeze as he walks. The only difference between now and earlier is that he’s done up a few buttons, but it really makes a difference. Coupled with the smart blue trousers from the resort gift shop – that magically fit him, as though they were tailored just for him (which is wild, considering how muscular his legs are), he looks great.

As for me, well, I’m wearing one of the ‘out of character’ dresses that I picked up just for the trip. It’s a long red cocktail dress – one with a split much higher above the knee than I would usually dare to go (and yes, after what happened earlier, I am being extra cautious in it, lest I suffer another unfortunate wardrobe malfunction). Isn’t it funny how I bought this dress – along with all of my other outfits for the trip – in an attempt to impress Rick? It turns out all I really needed to impress him was a man (which I hate, but also shamelessly kind of love, because it’s working).

As crazy as it sounds, I feel like the backdrop is making us look all the more stylish this evening – who wouldn’t look good, surrounded by such stunning scenery?

As the path we are walking along leads us to the beach, the leaves rustling softly in the gentle breeze make way for wide open space, the roar of the ocean and softly played music. The air is perfumed with a mixture of all things Mediterranean, from the setting to the food – which must mean we’re nearing the restaurant.

I just love that everywhere I look, you see that unmistakable Italian charm. It’s not just the scenery, or the aromas, it’s the atmosphere too. Everyone we pass just seems so chilled out and happy – and another thing I’ve noticed is that Andrea seems to turn the head of almost every woman he passes. I don’t blame them, though.

The day is slowly fading away, making way for the night, so the temperature has dropped to that level where your skin feels warmed just enough to appreciate the cool breeze brushing against it.

‘Is there anything that I need to know?’ Andrea asks, his question pulling me from my thoughts. ‘Or anything I need to do?’

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