Page 78 of Harper's Holiday Romance
“Very Mexican,” Billie said sarcastically.
“Nasty.” I hissed.
Frank was bigger than I anticipated. If he started clawing his way towards me at speed with his giant chest and scaly feet, I’d scream and run the other way. The reaction to flee was human nature when a small dragon-looking species looked like it wanted to attack you. However, I was confident Frank wouldn’t do that; he had kind eyes.
“Frank is better than Alan,” Sarah chimed.
Alan was the first iguana who I had the pleasure of meeting on day one. He was tiny, calm, and just wanted to eat his leaves in peace; he looked like an Alan.
“There’s nothing wrong with Frank or Alan. They’re cute reptile names,” I contested.
“Okay,” Sarah scoffed.
“Come here Frank; I have some cookie.” I reached into my beach bag for the leftover snack from breakfast. Why did I have leftover snacks when it was an all-inclusive resort? For moments like this I carried a smalltissue filled with bread, especially at home, in case I saw a one-legged pigeon that looked hungry. God, they made me sad.
“Iguanas don’t eat cookies.” Billie, aka the sarcastic encyclopaedia, liked to sprout knowledge at any opportunity. I found it fascinating how she retained so much information. I barely remembered an email I’d sent at work an hour after sending it. I did put that down to eating gravel and sticking it up my nose as a child. I was pretty confident if I had an MRI, I would be told there were small rocks wedged in some lobe or another.
“How do you know?” I sassed.
“They feed on leaves, fruit, and flowers. Although, they will occasionally eat a human toe if they’re hungry.”
My head spun to face Billie. “You’re kidding, right?”
“Yes.” She laughed.
“Oh good.” I had on open-toed flip-flops, and my feet now smelt like mango mojito.
“They’re quite particular anyway; you have to have nice smelling feet,” Billie added.
Rude.
“That’s mean. My feet are cute.” I wiggled them through the bottom of my sliders. They were swollen to twice their normal size, but regardless I thought the manicure elevated their appearance.
“If you say so.”
I wasn’t one to have my feet manicured, my fingernails yes, but someone touching my feet made me uncomfortable. Billie convinced me to have them done for the holiday, mainly so she didn’t have to go to the new nail salon alone. The last time the Chinese man spent thirty minutes longer on her nails than his coworkers did on their clients.
“It’s nice to see you out and about again.” Sarah smirked.
I’d been waiting for the grilling since I strolled back into the apartment at nine that morning with sunglasses on and bed hair.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I watched Frank ignore my cookie and slither his way to the opposite side of the flower bed. Bye.
“You’ve been hauled up in that hotel room for the past twenty-four hours,” Billie confirmed.
“It has not been twenty-four hours.” I turned to observe Frank once more, mainly to hide the smirk. I was a terrible liar. I knew damn well it had been twenty-four hours. It had been twenty-eight. I was depressingly counting every hour I spent with Julia in the hopes it would make time go slower; It didn’t.
“One of your best traits is also a major downfall for you—you can’t lie,” Sarah pointed out.
“I so can,” I said it like a ten-year-old does when they’re friend says they can’t beat them at something.
“Okay.” Sarah patted me on the knee. They both knew how much I hated being patronised, so they did it on purpose.
“Was the sex good? That’s all I care about,” Billie asked.
“It was really fucking unbelievable.”
Billie climbed from her bed to mine and sat cross-legged like we were about to commence a reading group.
