Page 18 of Going Overboard

I’m standing here with Brody, at the foot of the bed, the two of us staring at it like we’re waiting for some kind of divine intervention, or some act of God that either tells us what we need to do, or sinks the ship so that it no longer matters.

‘So…’ I say as I chew on my fingernail. ‘This is… problematic.’

Brody is standing next to me with his hands on his hips, surveying the bed, not seeming as stressed about this as I am, to be honest with you.

‘Is it really though?’ he replies.

‘Yes, Brody, it is. It absolutely is,’ I reply. ‘There is one bed. One. And two of us. Two.’

‘As impressed as I am with your counting – very good for a big girl?—’

‘A big girl?’ I snap back.

‘No, no,’ he insists. ‘Give over. Not like that. I was implying you were acting like a child and…’

My face slips into a smile.

‘Oh, okay, you’re having me on, hilarious,’ he replies. ‘But let the record state that I have just been the mature one not once but twice.’

‘Doubt,’ I say with a snort.

‘I’m suggesting we share the bed, like adults, because this isn’t a romance movie,’ he says slowly, patronisingly even.

‘Yeah, and don’t I know it,’ I reply. ‘Because if it were you would be way more charming and, to be honest with you, playing a much sexier sport like American football or hockey.’

‘Well, when they shoot the American remake, I’m sure they’ll do that,’ he replies.

‘All of this to say, I am not sharing a bed with you, mate,’ I tell him. ‘Not a chance. I’d sooner sleep on the balcony.’

‘Well, that would solve the problem,’ he jokes. ‘Ah, come on, I don’t snore… that much.’

‘I don’t care if you don’t breathe,’ I tell him. ‘No way. I’m not joining what is clearly a long list of women who can say they’ve shared a bed with the “bad boy of cricket”.’

Brody grins like I just gave him a present.

‘You googled me,’ he says.

‘I did not,’ I’m quick to reply.

‘You did – was it when you went to the toilet for fifteen minutes?’

Oh, he’s loving this.

‘Ew, you were timing me?’

‘Erm, I’m just being a supportive boyfriend,’ he says with a shrug.

Okay, if I’m being honest with you, I did actually go to the toilet to google him. I was like Sherlock Holmes with an iPhone.

I didn’t have much time – well, fifteen minutes, I guess – but I skim-read as much as I could. I had a peep at his Instagram and, oh boy, that thing is a thirst trap. I felt like I needed a cold shower and a cigarette after looking at all his muscle-flexing photos – and I don’t even smoke.

I also looked over as many articles as I could and, as far as I could tell, there are far more about him being the ‘bad boy of cricket’ than about him actually playing the sport.

Then again, the algo is probably more likely to serve me trashy tabloids than sports news.

He looks like fun, I’ll give him that. If you’re a bottle of spirits or a hot blonde, you’re in trouble when Brody Ryan is in town.

I did learn that he doesn’t only play for Yorkshire, he plays for England too, so he must be good, right?

Brody tips his head one way, then the other.

‘You know what, I think it’s one of those beds where it’s two zipped together, to make one really big one,’ he says.

‘Really?’ I reply, my voice full of hope and optimism.

‘Yeah, the headboard looks like it separates, I reckon I can pull them apart,’ he tells me.

He looks like he could pull the wall apart, so there’s that.

‘Wouldn’t that be the answer to all of our problems,’ I say with a sigh.

‘Maybe one of them,’ he says with a laugh as he starts unbuttoning his shirt.

‘You’re as bad as Al,’ I tease him.

‘It’s hard to be flexible in a shirt,’ he replies. ‘Close your eyes if it offends you.’

My worry is that it doesn’t offend me, quite the opposite.

Brody gets right to it, pulling at the beds, trying to separate them. He’s right, it does look like the base should separate, but it’s not giving up without a fight. He grunts and groans, the headboards banging against the wall as he tries to shake them apart, but still they don’t budge.

‘Harder,’ I call out helpfully. ‘You’re almost there…’

‘I’m… I’m… ’

‘Come on,’ I say, just in case my encouragement is helping. ‘Show it who’s boss.’

Brody pulls on the headboard and it looks like it might be moving but then it snaps back to the wall, trapping Brody’s finger in the process.

I can’t help but scream, imagining it being much worse than it is.

‘Ugh!’ he shouts, shaking his hand, like he’s trying to flick the pain off, as if it’s water and the hand dryer isn’t working. ‘Baby,’ he teases me for screaming.

‘Oh, you’re so hard,’ I reply, rolling my eyes, because that must have hurt him, even if he’s trying to style it out like it didn’t.

He starts again, pushing, pulling, grunting, groaning – nothing. He’s even breaking a sweat now.

‘Come on, Ryan, put your back into it,’ I call out. Okay, yeah, now I’m just trying to annoy him.

He flops backwards onto the bed, trying to catch his breath.

‘You know what, I think it’s bolted together,’ he tells me, his voice quiet now. ‘And to the floor or the wall or something – maybe it’s a cruise ship safety thing.’

‘Yeah, maybe,’ I say, sitting down on the bed next to him. ‘You tried.’

I give him a patronising pat on his sticky, sweaty abs. My God, they’re rock solid.

‘You know… there is a plan B,’ I tell him, nodding towards the fancy free-standing bath in our room.

Brody lifts his head up just enough to look before flopping back down.

‘Be my guest,’ he tells me.

‘Oh, no, no, no, dear boyfriend,’ I reply. ‘I already took the bath last time, remember? It’s your turn tonight.’

‘A princess, as always,’ he replies. ‘Tell you what. We’ll take it in turns. I’ll sleep in it tonight, you can take it tomorrow night – you’ll be begging to get in bed with me.’

‘It seems like no one has to beg to get in bed with you,’ I tease.

‘Yeah, you definitely googled me,’ he says – to himself, I think.

I’m not even going to dignify that with a response.

‘Right,’ he says, pulling himself to his feet. ‘I’m going to nab some cushions from the sofa, that might help. At least you were drunk when you slept in the bath…’

Again, I’m saying nothing. I just sit there and watch as he walks, shirtless, into the living room.

‘Oh, hi,’ he says, so I’m guessing Todd and/or Nikki is in there. ‘I’m just grabbing some cushions – I’m doing a bit of overambitious exercising. I’ll bring them back in the morning.’

Silence.

He comes back in, cushions in his arms, and closes the door behind him.

‘Well, they look awkward as hell, so our little performance at dinner must have been convincing,’ he says.

‘I guess so,’ I reply.

He starts chucking cushions into the bath, almost filling it, to the point where I’m not sure his muscular frame will fit in there too but he just about makes it work.

‘Chuck me a pillow from the bed, will you,’ he says.

I grab one and carry it to him.

‘I’ll give it a go tonight, seeing as though you asked so nicely,’ he says sarcastically. ‘But I guarantee you’re not going to want to sleep in here. Not a chance. You’ll be trying to seduce me, so that you can get in bed with me, I can see it now.’

‘Oh, I highly, highly doubt it,’ I tell him. ‘I’d sooner get in with Todd and Nikki.’

‘Ouch,’ he says, laughing it off.

Nothing ever seems to really rattle him .

I head into the bathroom to get ready for bed, shutting the door behind me before looking at myself in the mirror.

What are you doing, Jessa, huh? What do you think is happening here? What do you think is going to happen?

Honestly? I have no idea. I flip back and forth between thinking this is the best idea anyone has ever had and this is a terrible, terrible plan. A plan where someone is going to get hurt, and I’m worried it’s going to be me.

The thing is though, I already have been hurt, by Todd, and now I’m just here playing the hand I’ve been dealt, and my teammate is Brody Ryan.

The Brody Ryan, it turns out. He’s handsome, jacked, charming in his own way, he’s got a good job and an even better sense of humour…

but I know his type and I could never fall for someone like that.

Still, all the better to have a fake relationship with him, to use him to make Todd regret breaking up with me – and to make Nikki wish she’d never let Brody go.

Honestly, I really feel like those two deserve each other.

So long as I don’t fall for ‘the bad boy of cricket’ (a concept that is still so hilarious to me) I’ll be okay. And maybe after this wedding, I really won’t ever have to see him again… I’m just going to have to see way, way more of him before that can happen.