Page 35

Cherry

The next day, Nicky drives us to the marina a few blocks away from his house where his ‘boat’ is moored. He’s given James the mid-season break off and so for the foreseeable future, it will be just the two of us.

“I don’t think I’ve been in a car when you’re driving,” I comment, wracking my brain to dislodge a memory of it. How is it possible that in all my life he’s never been the driver when I’ve been in the car?

“Can I tell you a secret?”

He’s smiling, looking relaxed behind the wheel wearing his Gucci sunglasses with his hair ruffling from the wind breezing in through the open sunroof, just like in an ad for something rich and decadent.

He can tell me all his secrets!

“Yes, please.”

“I don’t enjoy driving.” He flicks a glance at me and smirks at my expression.

The man drives race cars for a living; how does he not like driving ?

“How?”

His broad shoulders bob up and down in a casual ‘who knows’ gesture. “I find it tedious.”

“Huh. Do you want me to drive?” We’re speeding along the scenic highway in his fancy Mercedes and I wouldn’t mind giving it a go.

“Matt told me all about your driving. I think I’ve had enough crashes recently.”

My jaw hits the floor at the same time my fist hits his bicep. “I’ll have you know, I’m a great driver.”

This is debatable, as my insurance company will tell you. Even so, he doesn’t need to know that.

“Sure,” he grins, looking young and light. I love this look on him. “Maybe next time.”

We arrive at the marina and he expertly reverses into a parking spot reserved for him, with a flick of the steering wheel manoeuvre that would have taken me ten minutes and my entire sanity to complete. He may not like driving, but the man is good in a car.

Show off.

Nicky opens his door and jogs around to open mine. “Ready?” He holds his hand out to me, and I all but leapfrog out of the car, the momentum of my enthusiasm throwing me off balance and right into him.

“Careful.” He steadies me with his hands on my hips and I take a second to sniff him.

Like a complete weirdo.

“You smell nice,” I whisper. “I mean, I’m so excited to be here.”

Great save, Cherry.

He smirks and lets it go, motioning for me to walk in front of him. We walk towards the water, bypassing a few of the ‘smaller’ yachts before drawing to a halt in front of his yacht .

“Wow,” I breathe out, wiping my suddenly sweaty hands on the front of my jean shorts and wishing I’d worn something fancier. The yachts on Below Deck look a lot smaller on my TV screen.

“Captain Alex,” Nicky greets the man with a weathered face and kind smile. “It’s good to see you. This is my friend Cherry.”

I only just stop myself from bowing, offering a handshake that I hope isn’t damp, instead.

“Hi.”

Captain Alex grins at me. “Welcome aboard the Seraph .”

“Wow,” I say again, slipping off my shoes and walking onboard. Not only is the yacht magnificent to look at, but it also has a pretty name to go with it.

“Seraph?” I ask Nicky as I accept a glass of champagne from a stew, waiting to greet us. She introduces herself as Rachel and she doesn’t know it yet, but I’m going to befriend her and ask her all the questions.

Nicky pushes his sunglasses up on top of his head, his eyes roaming all over me. “It means Angel.”

“Huh.” My eyes dart around this way and that, dying to see everything at once. “Pretty.”

“Yes.” He agrees, watching me closely, his expression unreadable.

Full. Body. Shudders.

“Can we look around?” I ask through a shaky breath.

He clears his throat and motions around him. “Of course.”

Rachel takes me on a guided tour of the yacht. It’s so similar to the Parsifal III from one of my favourite reality shows, I find myself looking around for the camera crew ready to capture all my hijinks and shenanigans .

“We’ll bring your luggage onboard. Will you be staying in the Master with Mr Dimitrios?” Her face is blank, the complete opposite of mine, which I’m sure is sweaty with bright red cheeks.

I look around for Nicky to save me from this embarrassing conversation, and when he’s nowhere to be seen, I turn back to Rachel and handle it myself. “I’ll take this cabin here,” I say, pointing to the twin room to the right of me.

“Very well.” She doesn’t blink at this, leading me back up to the top deck where Nicky is waiting for me. He’s leaning against the boat railing, and instead of looking at the stunning views all around him, he’s looking at me.

“What do you think?”

I skip to him, my knees a little wobbly from the midday glass of champagne. “It’s ah-maz-ing! How do you not use it more often?”

From what I’ve heard from Matt, Nicky rarely takes trips on his yacht, to the point my brother wondered why he bought it in the first place.

“I don’t really have the time,” he shrugs. “These three weeks in the mid-season is the only real break I have to enjoy it. In the off-season, it’s winter and not the best weather to go sailing.”

This makes sense and feels like another reason Nicky sometimes seems so disillusioned with Formula 1. He has all the rewards from his success and little time to enjoy them.

“Well, we are going to enjoy every second of the next two weeks. Being here is like a dream come true.”

He smiles and pulls me close to him, tucking me up in front of the railing, putting his big body behind me. It feels like the best sort of cocoon I could ever imagine.

“I like the sound of that. ”

We stand together in silence, looking out over the water. I don’t know what Nicky’s thinking, but I’m lost in how perfect this moment is. The calm water in front of us, Nicky’s warm solid body behind me, and two long weeks looming ahead.

Perfect.

“If you’re ready, Nicky, we’ll head off now?” Captain Alex asks, standing a respectful distance from us.

“Sounds good.”

The captain smiles and retreats to the front of the yacht and I turn around to face Nicky, loving that he doesn’t move away. That in making this move, my front is pressed all over his.

“I didn’t even ask. Where are we going?”

He glances out over the water as we drift away from the marina. “Today we’re sailing to Nice.”

“Seriously?” I clap my hands, only just stopping short of squealing and jumping up and down. “Can we get a crepe when we’re there?”

One side of his mouth hitches up as he gives me a quizzical look. “Um, of course. If that’s what you want?”

For some reason I can’t put my finger on, I feel sure that the best crepes in the world are made in Nice. It most likely stems from one of these reality shows I consume like candy, but whatever the reason is, I’m beyond thrilled to see if it’s true.

“I do.”

He stares down at me, his eyes dissecting my features before he smiles. A real Nicky smile with eye crinkles and all. “Then that’s what we’ll do.”

I squeeze him against me in a tight hug and then reluctantly let him go. “How long until we get there?”

“We’ll take our time, maybe stop for a swim along the way? So, we should be there in about two hours. ”

Wonderful. “That gives me just enough time to check out every inch of this yacht.”

I’m here now and I’m going to make every one of my Below Deck dreams come true.

· · · · ·

“I don’t know how you can even call this a beach,” I comment, hours later, as Nicky and I sit on the hard pebbles they have here instead of sand. Both of us have a crepe in our hands. “It feels…unnatural.”

“That’s because you come from the land with some of the best beaches in the world,” he says as he takes a bite of his crepe, a bit of Nutella leaking onto the side of his mouth.

I lean over and wipe it away with my thumb, watching as his eyes darken at the contact. Concealing a shudder, I focus back on the treat in my hand.

“I mean, I get that. But can anyone properly hang out at the beach, with no sand?” The pebbles under my butt are already causing me to shift with discomfort.

Nicky shrugs. “Well, I like it.”

“Huh, that’s right. You hate sand!”

His cheeks heat and he waves me away with one of his big hands. “What’s not to hate about sand? It sticks to everything and is impossible to get rid of.”

My mind casts back to when I was eight years old and my family went on a trip down to the beach.

Matt and Nicky were sixteen at the time and had reluctantly come along with us, spending the whole day acting like they were too cool to have any fun.

I remember being in awe of my brother’s best friend, even then, and when he’d spent ten minutes at the end of the day washing the sand off his feet, I’d sat nearby and done the same .

It’s a sweet memory and one that shows how little things have changed. I’m still that girl in awe of this boy; only now, perhaps he may feel the same about me…

“Fine, whatever. The beaches here are weird, but the place is gorgeous.”

After docking at the marina, we’d spent the afternoon exploring all the cobbled streets and little laneways. If I’d been enamoured with Imola, then I’m in love with Nice.

“And,” I continue as I lick the tips of my fingers. “I was right. These are the best crepes ever.”

Nicky nods. “Do you want to stay in town and have dinner? Or we can eat on the yacht?”

I look around at all the outdoor cafes and restaurants lining the beachfront boulevard.

Just like it’s depicted in the movies, everything screams quaint French seaside with outdoor patio spaces draped in striped awnings and fairy lights.

There are enormous umbrellas to offer shade from the afternoon sun, interspersed with vibrant-coloured chairs and tables.

If it weren’t for the streams of tourists milling about, some recognising Nicky despite his cap and sunglasses, I’d want to stay here as long as possible.

“Let’s go back to the yacht,” I tell him, noting his small sigh of relief. “I want to see what the chef cooks for us.”

With hours of TV watching under my belt, I know the chef on a yacht has the hardest job and I’m dying to see how it’s done. I’ll probably spend the better part of the evening just hanging out and watching him do his thing.