Page 77 of The Suite Life
‘You know what I mean,’ I reply with a smile. ‘Somewhere closer to home.’
‘Jokes aside, the Eiffel Tower is really something,’ he tells me. ‘It wasn’t what I expected at all – I’m not sure if it was bigger or smaller than I thought it would be – but I took the most amazing night shots of it. Would you like to see?’
‘I’d love to,’ I tell him.
Jeff stops in his tracks and takes his phone from his pocket. He places one hand on the small of my back, holding me close, while he messes with his phone with the other.
‘Oh, I can’t access the cloud off Wi-Fi,’ he tells me. ‘But I can show you on my laptop.’
‘Ooh, the suspense,’ I tease, still reeling from his weird shutdown of my wedding date dilemma, but even more eager to put it behind us with every second that goes by. ‘I’m expecting big things from these photos – I can’t wait to see them.’
‘You’re mocking me,’ Jeff says with a smile. ‘Right, I’ll show you.’
Jeff steers me back towards the hotel. Once we’re in the lobby, he directs me to the lift. Oh, wow, he’s showing me now? In his room? Gentleman Jeff has been nothing but perfectly behaved so far so, if he says he’s taking me up there to show me photos, then I believe him. And if he’s got something else in hismind – which I doubt – then we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.
‘This is me,’ Jeff says as we arrive at the door to his room. ‘Prepare to eat your words.’
‘I am so full after dinner, I don’t think I could eat my words if I wanted to,’ I chuckle.
The moment the door of Jeff’s room closes behind us, I can’t help but feel a sudden jolt of uncertainty. I am a firm believer in going with my gut, and right now my stomach is in knots. His room is nice – it’s made up of at least two rooms, because there isn’t a bed in this one – but nowhere near as nice as mine, obviously.
‘Okay, you sit at the desk,’ he tells me, pulling out the chair.
Jeff takes his laptop in his hands, holding it in the air as he finds what he wants to show me, before placing it back down in front of me.
A beautiful photo of the Eiffel Tower at night fills the screen. The moon is in just the right place, the tower is illuminated, and there isn’t a tourist in sight. Okay, I have to admit, this really is great.
‘Just tap the arrows to flick through them,’ he tells me. ‘Paris might be the most romantic place I’ve ever visited.’
I sigh.
‘It looks like it,’ I reply. ‘And now I want to go more than I did before – so thanks for that.’
Jeff moves behind me, lightly rubbing my shoulders. His fingers, light and rhythmic, trace a comforting pattern, but it doesn’t seem to do much to relax me.
‘It’s definitely more of a fourth date thing,’ he muses. ‘But our third could be your sister’s wedding, if you’re still looking for a plus-one.’
Before I have the chance to say a single word, Jeff leans forwards and starts kissing my neck. Slow, sensual kisses, histongue lightly flicking against my skin. All I can do is freeze. But this is what I wanted, right? A handsome, charming, seemingly perfect guy to be my impressive date for the wedding. More than that, though, I want to move on from Nathan, and this is my chance. I’m bound to be nervous, right? He’s my first since Nathan, so of course it’s going to be weird, being with someone new for the first time in a long time.
I wriggle involuntarily as he gets nearer my ear.
‘I’ll get us champagne,’ he says.
‘Yeah, okay,’ I reply, definitely in need of a drink.
‘In fact, give me five minutes, there’s a comfortable sofa in the bedroom, we can sit in there, I’ll be right back.’
‘Okay,’ I say again, sounding less sure this time.
Jeff dashes off, oblivious to my hesitation, to pop the cork in the other room.
I go back to flipping through the Paris pics on his laptop. They’re all so dreamy and romantic, and I really would love to go, and I feel like he just invited me, and said he’d be my date for the wedding, and I should be so smugly happy right now, but…
A pop-up about updates springs onto the screen, snapping me from my thoughts, minimising Jeff’s Paris pictures. I open my mouth to call him, to ask what he wants me to click, but before I get the chance, I notice another window open – Jeff’s messages. I don’t mean to look but an open message from ‘Eleanor’ catches my eye.
Sorry for the things I said, I’m just missing you. You know I don’t care about money, only about you, so hurry home to marry me. I love you Geoff.
I stare at the screen as I search my brain for an explanation – other than the obvious one, of course. Sure, I’ve been imaginingGeoff’s name with a J in my head, but it’s probably pretty safe to assume that this message was sent to him, not some other guy called Geoff who he just happens to share a laptop with – oh, and that he’s definitely engaged, so that’s nice. Honestly, what is wrong with some men?
