We sat back in our seats, my hand still stinging from the cold. Coach reached across and took my hand in his own. He began rubbing my hand slowly. He raised my hand towards his face and began to blow on my hand with such care. His warm breath feeling like it is slowly thawing my hand.
"They say you should put cold hands between your thighs to warm them up."
He glanced at my hand, then my thighs.
"My thighs are free if you'd rather use mine?" His face once again taking on that evil, playful look.
I was half tempted to force my hand between his thighs there and then to show him he can't keep playing with me, but I thought better of it.
He'd either enjoy it and I wouldn't live it down, or he'd get mad that I took his jokes seriously and actually touched him intimately. I couldn't see either way ending well for me.
"You're so funny." I said as sarcastically and coldly as I could. I snatched my hand back and forced it between my thighs in defiance.
"My hands are cold..." I heard him whimper softly, I turned and he had his bottom lip stuck out like a child.
"Any room in between your thighs?" His stuck out lip curling into his usually devilish grin.
"You're the worst!" I laughed. He nodded in agreement.
"I can't wait to get in the lagoon, my shoulders are aching. Fancy giving me a massage when we get there? Payback for the one I gave you in the Blue Lagoon?" He asked so nonchalantly. My body tensed as fear raised from my feet upwards.
He turned to face me.
"What wrong?"
"The Secret Lagoon....I forgot about it! I forgot to pack my swimming shorts and a towel!" I rested my head in my hands, how could I forget when I'd been working out which coach service to use based on what was included in their itinerary for months and finally found the one that included everything I wanted to do. Like the Secret Lagoon!
"I know it's called the Secret Lagoon but I'm pretty sure it's advertised in the itinerary" he laughed.
I shot him the most serious glare I could muster. What was I going to do, I was really looking forward to this, I didn't just want to sit and watch while everyone else enjoyed the lagoon.
"Don't worry about it. You can borrow mine, I'm sure they'll have some spares in lost and found that I can use." He grinned as wide as he could.
My fear began to slowly subside but I was still frustrated, I was usually so on the ball with everything but I'd messed up so many times and I was still at the start of my trip!
Coach seemed to sense my frustration and began his usually chatter to take my mind off of the missing swimming gear.
After a few minutes the coach started to slow and the tour guide stood up.
"Would anyone like to see some Icelandic horses?" His face beaming with excitement.
The coach buzzed with murmurs of anticipation. Who knew people would get so excited about horses.
Coach leaned in, closer than he probably meant to. His lips brushed my ear.
"Whatever you do, don't call them ponies."
Not exactly what I was expecting to hear but I agreed.
We stepped off the coach back into the bitter cold, my hand that had only just warmed up began to sting again.
Coach once more grabbed my ungloved hand. Was I so obvious, so easy to read? I didn't even try to refuse his grasp. My hand was thankful for his warm embrace.
We made our way over to the wooden and wire fence. On the other side stood about twelve horses, although in all fairness they do look more like ponies. They were a lot smaller than normal horses. Their coarse blonde hair blowing in the cold wind, their unusual blue eyes glistening made them look really cute. Strange considering I have a fear of horses after one bit my finger when I was younger.
One of the horses broke away from the group and approached where me and Coach were stood. It placed its head over the fence and looked at us as if expecting something.
"We should have brought some snacks for them." Coach tutted.
"I think he likes you, give him a stroke."
I shook my head. The fear that as soon as my hand approached, the horse would turn to finish the job the first horse had started all those years ago.
I looked at the ground and relayed the story of why I'm scared of horses to Coach. My gaze firmly planted on the white, snow encrusted grass below us.
I again found Coach's hand placed atop my head.
"You're so cute. Scared of a tiny horse like this."
My eyes shot up, my face flushed with anger.
"Hey, I'm joking!" He said, his arms held up in the air. I'm sure he'd be waving a white flag if he had one.
