Half of me was fantasising about the idea of Joe just throwing me, caveman style, on that pool table and having his wicked way with me, while the other half was already realising how hard it could be to get over him if that did happen.
Maybe the mom...
Of course I am. My brain won't switch off to allow me to relax enough to sleep. It keeps flipping between two thoughts: what I hope Sienna and I can do later now I've acquired some condoms (I didn't think to bring any with me given I had no plans for a holiday romance; thankfully my brother had loads), and the fact I noticed my book lying on her beach towel once I returned to the sand.
And the fear that if she makes the connection to me writing that book and realises the sort of dick I was back then, that the first thought may no longer be an option.
I'm not that guy anymore. Haven't been for a long time. I wasn't even that guy then really, I just got caught up in all that hype.
Now I think about it, are these fears proving I am that guy? I don't actually need the sex; I just don't want her to look at me differently, think of me as a different person.
I really hope I look more relaxed than I'm feeling inside because my stomach is churning with nervous energy right now.
"Joe?" she hisses again.
I suppose I've already proven I'm no good at faking sleep after the nip-slip incident, so I open my eyes to find her face close to mine, navy blue eyes sparkling with a strange energy. "You okay?" I ask.
She holds up a tube of suncream. "Was just wondering if you could do my back?" She says, her voice deliberately innocent. "I don't want to burn."
"Of course." I sit up. Any excuse to touch her.
She rolls onto her front and releases the tie at the back of her bikini. "I don't want a tan line," she explains. Then she props herself up on her elbows and, as I start to rub the cream into her shoulders, she opens her book. My book.
"I'm so glad I found this book," she says happily. My hands falter. "Do you know one of the things I liked most about it? I felt like the heroine looked a lot like me. I know that sounds crazy."
"Really?" I ask faintly. Also a bit confused. The main female character in my book has brown hair and brown eyes. So yes, it does sounda wee bit crazy.
"Yeah." She giggles. "I'm not a natural blonde, believe it or not. I'm brunette, I dyed my hair after I left uni and realised that blondes do have more fun. Or at least I did as a blonde." She flips a page over. 'The main girl in this book, Amy, has brown hair and freckles like mine. She also seemed to think a bit like me too. She didn't have the same colour of eyes obviously but I really identified with her. I really wanted to be her friend. You know, if she was real." She laughs again, self-deprecatingly.
"I understand that," I say quietly, squeezing cream out of the tube onto her back. God, her skin is so bloody smooth. I move my hands over her, working the suncream in. I could do this all day, although I'd really prefer the conversation to be about something else. She falls silent for a few minutes and I'm hoping that's the subject dropped.
"I've been trying to remember what the author was like," she says suddenly. Oh great, so we're still on the subject, and now the territory is even more dangerous. "You said you read it, right? Do you remember? I'm sure he ended up pretty famous for a bit."
"Hmmm," I pretend to think. "Nah, can't say I do," I reply eventually.
"He went to my uni," she volunteers. "At the same time as me."
I did?
"I'll maybe just Google him later," she says airily. "I don't seem to have a signal here." She sighs. "That feels so good. Are you sure you're not a secret masseuse?"
Nope. My secret is not that.
"There, I think that's you done," I announce, recapping the tube and moving back onto my own towel.
"Thanks Joe." She smiles at me, but there's an odd look on her face. She turns back to the book and seems intent on reading now. I feel myself starting to relax.
"What's your middle name?" She asks suddenly.
You'd think I'd be used to Sienna's random questions by now but she still always takes me by surprise. "Why?" I ask nervously. There's a weird edge to her voice.
She rolls onto her side and her smile widens. "I'm just wondering what the P in your name stands for," she replies. She closes the book and pointedly indicates the author name.
Fuck.
It appears Sienna is already on to me.
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