Page 9 of One Week in Paradise
It takes me another seven minutes to find The Steam Room, the small and cosy café we’ve agreed to meet at.Before I enter, I catch a glimpse of myself in the window. Not to toot my own horn, but I think I look pretty cute today.
It’s the first time I’ve left the house in over a week and a half, and I’ve scrubbed up pretty well. I’m trialling a new shampoo and conditioner combo – gifted by a brand before The Video – and it’s done wonders with my hair. My hair falls in ringlets around my face and has a picture-perfect shine to it. I don’t think my hair has looked so healthy in months. A small part of me wants to take a picture right now and post it, but my anxiety outweighs my daring, and I resist the urge.
As I give my hair an extra bit of fluffing, I realise that someone is staring at me through the window.
Grey-green eyes meet mine, and I yelp. Cash is staring directly at me, his lips twisted into a smirk. He gestures to the empty seat in front of him and then glances at an imaginary watch on his wrist.
‘Sorry,’ I mouth before hurrying into The Steam Room. ‘Sorry, sorry, sorry!’ I say again as I plop down into the empty seat. ‘I was helping a friend out, and I lost track of time.’
‘It’s no big deal,’ Cash says. ‘No need to apologise.’
He sounds sincere, but I know it’s just a façade. I can tell by the way he’s avoiding holding eye contact with me for more than a half second. He’s definitely irritated with me.
‘Well, let me get you something to drink,’ I say. ‘It’s the least I can do.’
‘Don’t worry about it.’ He gestures to the table between us. There’s a big black teapot and two small cups beside it. ‘I’ve already ordered for us. Wild berry, right?’
Surprise jolts through me as I watch him pour me a steaming cup of wild berry tea.
‘Yeah,’ I say. ‘Thanks.’
He shrugs like it’s the most normal thing in the world to know the tea preference of your best friend’s younger sister.
We sit for a moment, quietly sipping our tea, and I take the opportunity to watch him. His wavy hair is pulled into a loose bun today, with a few wispy strands falling over his face. I’m suddenly overcome with the urge to run my fingers through his hair. I wonder if it’s soft as it looks.
Cash clears his throat suddenly, and I realise I’ve been caught staring.
‘So,’ he says. ‘Jamaica.’
‘Jamaica,’ I nod. ‘Thanks again for agreeing to come with me.’
‘Free trip to Jamaica. Who would say no?’
I wait for a moment, wondering if he’ll fill in the pause with something like ‘and the company’s not too bad either’, to assuage my fear that he doesn’t actually like me. But no clarifier comes. He really is just in this for the free trip.
‘Right,’ I say, trying not to let the disappointment showon my face. I clear my throat. ‘Let’s get down to business. Penelope’s sent over an itinerary – I’ll forward it to you later. They’ve got lots planned for us. For the most part, we can pick and choose which activities we’d like to do, but the resort is, um, focused on couples, so they’ll be expecting us to do a few of the couples activities definitely.’
‘Things like what?’ Cash asks.
‘Nothing big,’ I say lightly, hoping my face isn’t as red as it feels. ‘Maybe a couples massage. Tandem jet-skiing. They’ve got dancing lessons at night as well, which I think Penelope is keen on us giving a go. Stuff like that.’
If the idea of us getting a couples massage or having my chest pressed up against his back while we zoom through the sea bothers him, Cash doesn’t let it show. His face is a perfect mask of indifference.
‘And you’ll be taking photos and videos the whole time?’ he asks. ‘For your Instagram?’
I nod. ‘Yes, exactly. I’m also going to make a vlog for my YouTube channel.’
‘And I’ve got to be in all of them?’
There’s something in his eyes when he says that. Is it panic? Regret? I can’t tell.
‘Not all of them,’ I say. ‘The resort will definitely want a few because we’re going specifically to experience theromanticelement, but we can get creative with the framing if you don’t want your face to be in any of them.’
Secretly, I always think it’s really cringe when people soft-launch their new partner by posting carefully taken photos and videos where the partner’s face isn’t showing. Up until all of three months ago, in between my hair, fashion and make-up posts, there were proud photos of Ethan and me littering my feed. I never tried to hide him. Maybe that’s what made him so bold.
Cash shrugs. ‘I don’t mind being in a few. You’ll let me see them before you post anything?’
‘Of course. I won’t post anything you’re not happy with. And I won’t tag you in anything.’ A thought suddenly occurs to me. ‘Are you even on Instagram?’
