Page 39

FIFTEEN

Suzie

‘YOU AREN’T GOING TO DIE!’ I shout through the door, frustrated, desperate and supremely confused. Because I think we were about to kiss. Me and Senor Shaw. And maybe do more. On our bunk bed. Possibly. Charlie smiles, his shoulders fall. With relief? He walks past me and opens the door.

‘Hola, Viraj. ?Qué pasa?’ he asks. I walk over to a leather armchair and sit down, kicking off my shoes and socks and sitting in the path of the fan in the room, feeling the lukewarm breeze on my skin.

There really is no aircon. It also looks like I’m going to have to make my bed.

Cool down, Suzie. Now is not the time to get overexcited with kids outside and in a bunk bed.

That frame doesn’t look sturdy enough. It might squeak.

Stop imagining yourself having sex in it.

Don’t look at him. It’s like trying not to look directly into the sun.

‘Sir, there’s a sign saying they don’t operate the aircon in the autumn and winter to save the planet. The planet? What about me, eh? I’m calling my mum,’ Viraj moans .

‘To tell her what? It’s too hot in Spain? You’ll survive, it gets cooler in the night. Think of the polar bears.’

‘So I can feel cold?’ he says, confused.

‘No. Because you’ll be saving them by not using the air conditioning. Just sleep with the fans on. You’ll be fine.’

‘I’m still calling my mum. What’s your room like?

Do you have aircon?’ he says, peering round the door.

He catches sight of me and then winks at Charlie.

The boy winked. This is not a good idea.

None of it. Because he is going to go now, tell all his mates and it will be all anyone can talk about.

‘Go away, Viraj. Go and find the ice machine in the communal kitchen.’

‘There’s an ice machine?’ he says, jogging away.

Charlie laughs, closing the door and then resting his head against it.

‘And so it starts…’

He turns to see me, sprawled in that chair, trying to keep cool. He stops, tentative, but then comes over and sits on the edge of the bunk bed opposite me, taking off his trainers and socks too and putting his feet on the cold tiles.

‘Water?’ I ask. He nods and I throw him a bottle that was on the side table. He catches it perfectly, opening it and taking a few sips. I watch the action of his throat swallowing, the sweat tousling his brown hair. He then turns to look at me.

‘Barcelona, two years ago. A kid managed to buy alcohol from a 7-Eleven and used his suitcase as a sick bowl. I had to buy him a brand-new wardrobe,’ he tells me.

I can play this game too. ‘Skiing in Les Arcs,’ I challenge him. ‘A group of boys set fire to a mattress and threw it out of a window.’

‘Ding ding ding,’ he says. ‘The lady wins this round.’

We both laugh and for a moment it feels strangely comforting to have something in common, beyond this weird energy that exists between us. The laughter fades and he leans forward, looking down at his hands .

‘I don’t quite know what’s happening here…’ he says, a little confused.

‘Neither do I,’ I reply.

‘We’re colleagues. We decided that much, right? We just sit across tables now and compare data.’ I smirk a little and he shakes his head at me. ‘Why do you think it worked in Mallorca and not in London?’ he asks me, earnestly.

I hold my bottle of water to my head. ‘Who knows? Maybe it was the role-play thing? Maybe it was because we could be different people.’

‘I was Carlos. Carlos would know how to decorate a classroom, and write things in notebooks, not Post-it notes plastered over his computer. Carlos is never late for things.’

‘Aurelie wouldn’t make her own Eiffel Tower for fun, she wouldn’t eat microwave pasta or wear slippers at work.’

‘We could role-play our way through the trip?’ he says, with a cheeky look in his eye.

‘Because, you know, the kids wouldn’t talk,’ I reply.

He laughs and I like seeing the shape of his eyes change. ‘Also, and no offence, but I found being Carlos…’

‘…bloody tiring?’ I say.

He laughs again but then leans back on the bed, smiling, watching me. ‘There’s something here, isn’t there?’

I nod.

‘So maybe we use this time to get to know each other. Hi, I’m Charlie.’

‘Suzie,’ I reply.

‘Is that short for anything?’

‘No. Are you a Charles?’

‘God, no.’

‘Excellent to meet you, Suzie.’

I feel the air lodge in my throat as he says my name aloud.

My real name. I move around on my seat and exhale loudly.

He then looks me straight in the eye. That bright blue gets me every time.

The way he doesn’t relent makes me bite my lip.

‘I have a question. Do you think about Mallorca, what happened?’

I nod.

‘What part do you think about?’

I’m not sure what he’s asking me. Is it the part where we first met? Or was it in the shop when he asked me whether I wanted a mermaid or a llama towel? But then he takes off his T-shirt. I bite my lip, taking in those shoulders again, his stomach.

‘Hot, are we?’ I ask.

‘Very.’

‘I think I remember something.’

‘Tell me,’ he whispers.

I take a deep breath, shifting around again to mask my arousal, feeling a specific memory in every part of me.

‘It was when I first took you in my mouth…’ I say, feeling my cheeks glow.

I see his breaths get heavier, he loosens his flies, slowly unbuttoning them, his hand reaching inside.

‘…I could feel you get harder, every time my lips moved up and down over you.’ He leans back on the bed and he’s all I can see.

I put my hand down the elasticated waist of my trousers, my other elbow on the armrest, the edge of my thumbnail in my mouth.

I feel my nipples getting harder under my top.

‘And then it was that moment of putting a condom on you, taking off my underwear and then climbing on top of you, sliding on top of you, that first sensation of feeling you inside me.’ I put my hands in my knickers and stroke myself, watching him get more and more aroused.

‘You felt incredible,’ he moans, closing his eyes briefly.

‘Open your eyes, look at me,’ I tell him.

He looks over at my hand.

‘Tell me what you remember,’ I ask, my hand sliding over myself more furiously.

‘You did this thing where you’d glide over me, slowly. I remember licking your nipples, that sound you made when I had them in my mouth, not quite a moan, like you were a little surprised, a laugh.’

I shift back on that chair, feeling the leather sticking against my shoulders ‘The way you lost control after that. You flipped me over and hooked my legs under your arms, and you slid deeply into me.’

We hear the footsteps of kids running up and down the corridors. I put a hand over my mouth to control my moans. I look over and he smiles at me.

‘It was all very, very…’

‘Very…’ I gasp.

I think about the way he slid into me, the motion, being completely lost in him, feeling so deeply aroused and being in that space where I could scream with pleasure.

I could tell him how hard I wanted him to fuck me, how I gripped on to his shoulders and pulled him into me.

I feel the tension, the pleasure build inside me.

I watch him put an arm down to steady himself.

This is not professional. All that separates us is a door that I hope can’t be opened from the outside.

I want him so incredibly badly. I want to hold on to that bunk bed ladder and have him pound me until I scream.

Suzie, who even are you? This is…this is…

I watch him lie back as he comes, the motion rippling through his back, making his neck clench.

I can’t hold it in any longer. I clasp my hand tightly over my mouth to muffle the sound of my orgasm.

I…I can’t. I don’t know. What is happening?

I’ve not even opened my bag yet. I’ve not seen the ensuite.

I laugh, loudly in relief, in satisfaction, feeling the pulses of pleasure roar through me.

When I look back at Charlie, he lies there, staring up at the underside of the bunk bed, speechless.

‘Did you?’ he asks me.

‘Yeah.’

He sits up, sweat making his chest and stomach glisten, a glow to his cheeks, trying to regain his composure.

I’ve never been more attracted to someone in my life.

Charlie. Not Carlos. Just him. And as all the emotion I once felt for him comes flooding back, it transfers to the right person, maybe, the one in front of me.

‘That was…’

‘Hot,’ I tell him.

He nods. ‘Very…’

‘Just…’ There’s something wrong, a proviso, a problem? Maybe he doesn’t want this? Maybe it’s too soon, too quick? ‘Viraj is right. We need aircon. It’s too hot to be doing that for the next three days.’

‘Three days?’

‘Yeah,’ he says smiling at me.

Charlie

‘Whoa, someone is thirsty…’ Mark says as he watches me down my Coke on the rooftop terrace of the hostel, a beautiful spot draped in fairy lights that lets us drink in the view of the spires of old churches and brightly coloured terraced houses, neighbouring rooftops draped in plants and terracotta plant pots.

The sun sits low for five o’clock and the students all sit there, lounging around on white plastic chairs, posing for selfies and posting it all on their IG.

We’ve just dragged them round the largest Gothic cathedral in Europe and filled them to the brim with churros so with the early start, the hope is that they’re going to pass out really quickly and we can start hydrating properly with Estrella.

This is all very thirsty work. I notice Suzie laughing with the students in the corner of that rooftop. Incredibly thirsty work.

‘I’m going to have to go down the pharmacy and get some talc for my bits,’ Mark announces to the teacher group that involves a very confused Jorge, our tour leader .

‘Mi cojones are very sweaty,’ Mark explains to him. ‘Mucho caliente.’