Page 64 of Best Wrong Thing

“Withus?” I ask.

“Looks like your Dad wants to tag along. But that’s okay. I should probably make an effort to get to know him a bit better.”

Does that mean I have to get to know Molly better too? Would we have been friends if we’d met under other circumstances?

I tear a pastry in two and stuff half into my mouth. I wash it down with juice. Dad and Molly come inside, their arms wrapped around each other’s waists.

“I’m going to spend the day with Molly.” Dad pecks her on the lips.

She makes an overly cute, bubbly noise. “Oh, did you know that Playa del Inglés is the LGBTQ capital of Gran Canaria? Barry told me you were gay, Jacob.”

“It’s not a secret.”

“So’s Archer. You should check out the night scene together. You might even find someone to hook up with. But be safe if you do.”

I want to crawl into a pit.

“I think Jacob knows all about safe sex,” Archer says.

I glare at him.

He smiles and shrugs.

“You can never be too careful,” Molly says.

I take my plate and mug to the sink. “I’m not here to hook up with anyone.”

“It might make you less uptight if you did,” Molly says.

“Mum!”

“It’s true. You need to loosen up, Jacob. Doesn’t he, darling?”

Molly is hanging off Dad’s arm and stroking his jaw.

“Yes. You should relax while we’re here. You’re too tense,” Dad says.

He’s the main reason I’m like this. I wash my mug and plate and then go to my room to grab my wallet. I stalk out of the villa without a word to any of them.

I walk along a path lined with palm trees, with the beach on one side and villas on the other. Even though it’s early, dozens of deck chairs line the beach, most occupied. After the villas come huge hotels, some with nicer architecture than others. The main thing they have in common is that they’ve all been rendered in white plaster, which makes them almost painful to look at in the bright sunshine.

“Hey.” Archer taps me on the shoulder.

His face is flushed, and he’s changed from the tight swimming trunks and towel into a pair of baggy shorts and a close-fitting T-shirt.

“I wasn’t planning on going on a second run this morning.” He falls into pace alongside me.

“I’m sorry. You didn’t have to follow me.”

“Yes, I did. But don’t worry. I told Mum and Barry I’d find some shops to buy food for lunch.” He waves a fold-up reusable carrier bag, puts it in his pocket, and slides his fingers through mine.

I pull my hand away.

“Relax. No one knows us here. Mum and Barry are sunbathing. We can hold hands.”

He’s right, and I’m overreacting. Why can’t I be as chill about our relationship as he is?

“Sorry.” I take his hand, which is a little clammy, and squeeze it gently.