Page 51 of That Island Feeling

Holiday hook-up rule number one: Never go somewhere you don’t know, with someone you don’t know.

‘I’m checking them for pearls,’ he says, and I immediately feel a rush of embarrassment.

‘Right. Sorry . . . I shouldn’t have assumed.’ Heat prickles at my skin and I allow my towel to slip off my shoulders, embracing the fresh air.

‘Don’t be silly. You weren’t to know.’

He’s already working away at the next oyster.

‘What are the odds?’ I ask, trying to ignore the fact I’ve just accused him of deliberately attempting to make me violently ill.

‘Only about one in ten thousand – about as common as a four-leaf clover.’

‘Have you found one before?’

‘A few,’ he answers coyly. ‘Nature’s lotto ticket.’ He’s moved on to the third oyster, glancing up at me as he digs the knife in. ‘I see you with your meal-ticket eyes, thinking you’ve discovered some millionaire island boy.’

My face flushes.

‘For your information, they’re only worth about two hundred dollars a pop – give or take. So no early retirement by the beach for you. Argh, no dice here either, unfortunately,’ he says, casting the oyster aside.

I take another sip of wine and watch him open the final pair.

‘Here, you can check these last ones.’

My heart is racing as I lean in to inspect the creamy fillings. Jack leans in too.

Our heads hover centimetres apart as we look down at the fleshy iridescent layers. I can’t see anything glimmering back at me, but I’m also focused on Jack’s warm breath that gently caresses the top of my head and sends tingles throughout my entire body. Just when I think he’s going to lean down and cup my chin, he pulls away.

‘Doesn’t look like any beginner’s luck, unfortunately,’ he says, voice gravelly.

I shake my head dumbly. My heartbeat continues to thud loudly in my ears.

‘Good thing dinner is ready to cheer us up,’ he adds.

My swimsuit is almost dry, so I slip my dress over my head and towel my hair to avoid looking like a wet poodle.

Jack pours me another glass of wine and dishes up our dinner on pretty patterned melamine plates. The plates and peach picnic rug seem at odds with his rustic cabin. The aesthetic, the wine, the postcard-perfect scenery . . . it’s clear Jack has a well-oiled routine.

He’s cut up a mango and avocado for a salad to accompany the lobster, which is cooked to absolute perfection. It’s caramelised in its natural juices and the sweetness cuts through the salty brininess.

‘Mm,’ I say after swallowing another delicious mouthful.

‘Sorry, it’s not a charcuterie board, but at least we have wine.’ He winks, raising his glass in my direction as he recalls what I said to him when I turned down his paddleboarding invitation.

‘I can’t believe you created all this from practically nothing,’ I say, flustered that he’s remembered that detail.

He shrugs, grinning, his chin marked with a dark food smudge that makes me feel less self-conscious about my poodle hair; I don’t have a brush on me to slick it back down. ‘I’ve had plenty of practice.’

I’ll bet.

Once we’re done with dinner, Jack pulls a pack of UNO cards from his picnic basket. We play the best of three. We each win one game, and then Jack takes out the final round with a UNO Reverse card. It’s been at least a decade since I played with Toby, so even though I lose, I’m still filled with fizzy energy as the cards are put away and we enjoy the last of the setting sun.

‘I wish my life was this uncomplicated all the time,’ I breathe out, gazing at the watercolour horizon. ‘I love that you work to live and not the other way around.’

We’re enveloped by hues of orange, pinks and purples, the colours blurring seamlessly into the darkening water as twilight closes in. I find myself speaking more easily now; the wine has loosened my lips. Shucked by rosé, I think.

‘It must be nice that your only worries are the tides and the tourists, and that you get to relax and play card games, and enjoy all of this,’ I say, tears suddenly pricking at my eyes as the soothing melody of waves gently lapping at the shore carries me back to my family’s bench by the ocean.

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