Page 31 of One Bed

Gib hadn’t expressed his disappointment, he was too much of a gentleman to be that crass, but how could henotbe dissatisfied?

Flopping into the chair, she couldn’t get Gerry’s words out of her head –fucking you is like doing it with an ironing board. Bea wrapped her arms around her chest and wished that men weren’t so stupid. If they didn’t like her boobs, they could skirt them and head south. The rest of her was perfectly, as far as she knew, normal.

But what really killed her was her suspicion that Gib was heading into Oia to look for some action. He’d been steel-pipe hard when she sat on his lap and when she left him, his enormous erection still tented his pants.

A guy like him –good looking and successful –could walk into the nearest pub, snap his fingers and have a queue of women begging to go home with him. Or jump onto Tinder and find a hook-up almost instantaneously. Why, just because she’d backed away, should he do without?

They weren’t lovers, they weren’t even friends –she’d only met him, as adults, on Sunday! –but the idea of him having sex with someone else and then coming back to share a bed with her, even if it was platonic and temporary, made bile creep up her throat. Bea closed her eyes and was transported back to when Gerry used to roll in drunk or stoned, smelling of pot, beer and cheap perfume, with another woman’s lipstick on the side of his mouth, or on his neck.

Oblivious to her shouting or screaming, he’d crawl into their bed and pass out, leaving her mentally and psychologically battered. To her shame, it happened way too many times before she finally kicked his entitled, scrawny arse out of her flat.

Gerry had cheated on her, taken her for granted, and treated her like his own personal cash back machine, but she still hadn’t been prepared for the level of hurt he, and her mum, inflicted on her in the weeks and months after their breakup.

But this wasn’t about Gerry. She was over him, and he wasn’t worth any more of her energy. She and Gib weren’t lovers, they were barely friends, and they’d only shared a kiss. A mind-blowing kiss, but still just a kiss.

But sharing a bed with him wasnothappening. She’d rather sleep on the floor. Or that ugly, broken divan.

After washing off her makeup and brushing her teeth, she changed into sleeping shorts and a T-shirt and ignored the siren call of the super comfortable bed. She cursed quietly and stomped back into the lounge of the cottage, carrying a blanket and a pillow she’d swiped off the bed.

She eyed the dip in the divan, and when she sat down on the edge, it only creaked a little. She lay down, trying not to roll into the hole. She wiggled her butt and folded her arms across her chest. If she lay on her back and stayed still, shemightbe able to fall asleep.

She’d make do tonight and make another plan in the morning. Actually, Gib could make another plan. He could move out. And she could have the cottage to herself.

From tomorrow on, she’d have as little to do with him as possible. Hopefully, he’d soon be bored with the slow pace of the out-of-season island, and he’d leave to go back to wherever he lived.

And she would never think about him again.

* * *

The next morning, Gib walked into the cottage’s small kitchen, slightly damp and a lot annoyed. And looking so damn sexy her heart hurt.

His sleeveless vest revealed impressive biceps, and the damp circles under his arms and around his neck told her he’d run hard and for a long time. The scruff on his jaw was darker this morning, his lips thinner.

And his eyes were the silver of a light sabre dialled to destroy.

Bea wished she hadn’t stumbled from the couch to the coffee machine. She was still dressed in her old T-shirt, her sleeping shorts had a torn hem and she knew her bedhead was at its best. A glance in the reflective surface of the kettle told her she also had dark rings around her eyes and a crease from her pillow embedded in her cheek.

To say that she hadn’t slept well was an understatement of epic proportions. Sleeping on the divan was the Santorini equivalent of sleeping on the pebbles at Kamari Beach. She’d tumbled, more than once, into the hole and found herself in an uncomfortable V shape.

She’d still been awake when Gib walked back into the cottage, after midnight, but she’d kept her eyes shut and her breathing light. She felt his heat as he loomed over her, and heard his low, frustrated ‘for fuck’s sake, seriously?’ remark. Then he’d walked into the bedroom and slammed the door closed, suggesting he knew she was awake.

It took her at least an hour to fall asleep after that. Only to be woken by the bed-from-hell at least three times after that. Her back hurt, her bum hurt, and her neck was a breath away from going into a spasm. She was so tired she couldn’t even be arsed to feel embarrassed about looking like death warmed up.

Besides, he’d probs got lucky the night before, and burned off all his excess testosterone. He wouldn’t find her sexy now.

‘Morning.’

Bea lifted her coffee cup in his direction and sat down at the kitchen table, resisting the urge to lay her head on her arms and go back to sleep. Through the open doors leading onto the deck, she watched a fishing boat heading out to sea. She wished she could spend the day snoozing on the beach, but she had things to do.

Bea cradled her coffee cup in her hand, ignoring Gib as he stomped to the bedroom, chugging water from the bottle he’d snagged out of the fridge. She presumed he’d gone to shower, but he returned a few minutes later in a fresh T-shirt, barefoot and rubbing his wet head with a hand towel.

Sliding his leg over the bench on the opposite side of the table, he spun his water bottle on its rim. ‘Right. What’s up with you?’

A straightforward question, and one she didn’t expect. ‘I’m fine,’ she spluttered.

Gib frowned at her standard, cop out response. ‘Bullshit.’ He drank more water, replaced the cap and pointed the bottle at her. ‘Last night we kissed. You seemed hesitant to take it further, so we stepped back. I said I was going for a walk, maybe to have a drink in a bar, and that pissed you off.’

Bea wanted to look away but couldn’t. It was a pretty accurate summation of the events.

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