Page 93 of That Island Feeling

After half an hour or so we head back to the pontoon, exhausted and grinning.

She tells me to turn away while she wriggles up onto the platform, but I have to adjust my board shorts as I sneak a glance. There’s a piece of seaweed stuck to her bum; today’s swimwear is a bikini.

I clamber up the swim platform behind her.

‘May I?’ I ask, reaching to swipe at the tangle of seaweed clinging to her butt cheek. It’s stuck like superglue. She laughs, a sweet, tinkling sound like wind chimes in the island breeze. I understand the seaweed, not wanting to let go of her so easily.

‘Watch the bird poo,’ I warn as Andie settles onto the hot timber.

‘Eww, yuck,’ she exclaims, sitting down and promptly laying down onto her back, red-cheeked and panting slightly.

I narrowly avoid a white, pasty splatter myself. As I lie down next to her, I make a mental note to come back out here later with some vinegar and a scrubbing brush.

Neither of us speak as the sun warms our damp bodies, like we’re solar powered.

‘You’re quiet,’ I say finally, stretching out a hand to rest on her upper thigh.

‘Mm, am I?’ she murmurs, eyes closed and face tilted to the sky, drinking in the sun. ‘I’m just thinking how wonderful that was. And how I’m really going to miss it here.’

There are things I really want to say, but I chicken out. ‘I thought you were conspiring to get me to do the Dirty Dancing lift with you,’ I say instead. I’ll get there eventually.

One of her eyes springs open. ‘Lucky for you it’s too deep out here,’ she laughs. ‘Not too deep for raunchy dancing lifts though.’

Surely she can’t be ready to say goodbye to this either.

Chapter Forty-two

ANDIE

He has a red mark from the too-tight suction of his snorkel mask encircling both his eyes, so I suspect I do too. Combined with the seaweed stuck everywhere and my dishevelled poodle hair, I’m sure I look quite the sight. But I’ve never felt more content. As the reality of leaving the island and Jack tomorrow sinks in, a twinge of sadness pulses through me.

He inches closer, having already used the bird poo as an excuse to position himself practically on top of me, and cheekily pretends to pull at the strings of my bikini peeking out from under my back. It’s a bikini from nearly a decade ago that I tossed into my suitcase right at the last second.

‘How do you feel about some swim-pontoon sutra?’ Jack asks, wiggling his eyebrows as I bat his hand away.

‘Would Bob approve?’ I tease.

‘I think so,’ he replies, grinning.

The sun is intoxicating, and I find myself caught up in the moment, allowing Jack to tug at my bikini top until it falls away, revealing my breasts. He kisses down my neck before resting his head on my bare chest. His stubbled face feels pleasantly scratchy as he nestles against me, and I’m very aware that he can hear the thrumming of my racing heart better than any doctor with a stethoscope.

‘Mm, I could get used to this,’ he murmurs.

‘Me too,’ I reply reflexively, without a second thought.

‘Really?’

Jack’s head snaps up, and he props himself up on his elbow, revealing his bare chest mossed with dark hair and matted by the salt water.

‘Of course,’ I reply, doubling down. ‘I wish life could be like this twenty-four seven.’

‘Why can’t it be?’ he challenges.

‘Because some of us have actual responsibilities,’ I reply. Oh, God. ‘Shit, sorry. I didn’t mean –’

‘It’s okay. I know you’re eager to get back to your dad.’

He may be right, but I still feel a stab of guilt. That’s no reason to dismiss Jack’s island life.

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