Page 14 of Harper's Holiday Romance
“Huh,” I mumbled.
It sounded like Billie calling my name, but I was too intrigued by the all-American girl next door across the pool. She had to be American; not one piece of clothing on her body was recognisable to me, and I liked to shop. Nine times out of ten I could correctly guess whichretailer a garment was from. It wouldn’t be my first-choice superpower, but a gift was a gift.
“Harper–!” The final call I heard loud and clear. Billie bellowed my name from her position eight feet away. I jumped; my glasses fell off the end of my nose and landed in my lap. My body’s perspiration mixed with sun cream made my stomach look like a soap dispenser; had I not been on holiday and completely captive by the suns burning rays I would’ve been disgusted by my appearance.
“What?” I managed to avert my gaze.
“I shouted you like four times! Who’s the girl?” Billie didn’t miss a trick.
“What girl?”
“The one you’ve spent the last ten minutes fixated on,” Billie clarified.
She sipped her fizzy orange equivalent of Fanta through a straw, patiently waiting for my response.
“I was not fixated,” I scoffed.
Okay, so I was maybe captivated for a split second, but only a second, the rest of the time she just happened to be in my sight line. It was perfectly normal to gawk at a stranger. Speaking of that stranger, I glanced in her direction again as she propelled her towel into the basket provided.
“You’ve got visible wrinkles on your forehead from the concentration.”
“I do not.” I slapped my hand to my head.
“She’s pretty,” Billie teased.
When I turned back all I saw was the edge of her orange crochet bag as she smoothly rounded the broad green plant that resembled a Venus flytrap eating an aubergine.
I audibly exhaled. She was gone.
“I’m sure you’ll see her again.” Billie smirked.
“I don’t care. I wasn’t even staring!”
I heard my voice; I sounded like a child. It was a healthy dose of self-reflection. The resort was arguably the size of a small city. I wouldn’t see her again. I was certain of it.
“You know who that was, right?” Sarah finally entered the conversation, taking a moment out of her reading schedule to participate.
“Oh, she’s alive,” Billie rejoiced.
I waited for her to enlighten me.
“It was the woman from the elevator.”
No.
Surely not.
Sarah barely saw the woman from the elevator. She couldn’t be certain.
The familiarity though, it made sense.
Uber bitch and the all-American girl next door couldn’t be the same person, could they?
The Italian restaurant received a five-star rating before I even tasted the food. The smell of freshly cooked pizza and garlic floated through the air. I had to remind myself it was only day two, and I had twelve more nights to experience the food. The young waitress had the sweetest smile. She was the third member of staff I’d come across with a set of braces. Did dental come with the care package? I was curious.
Like much of the hotel, the aesthetic was everything I dreamed of for my own home and more. The beige theme carried through to the restaurant with every otherwall covered in different contrasting tones and textures of wood. They somehow managed to blend traditional and modern elements perfectly. The striped tile flooring and thick wooden chairs cushioned with beige seating matched perfectly. I snapped a few pictures; it gave me some inspiration to take back home.
The waitress showed us to a table outside with a view of the man-made lagoon. The solid marble table was dressed in accents of black and silver cutlery. A wall filled with black lanterns and burning candles separated us from the walkway. I opted for an all-black outfit: a silk shirt tied up in a knot, coupled with a thigh split skirt of the same material, and a pair of slip-on cream sandals to match my bag. I liked to accessorise accordingly.
