Page 4 of One Week in Paradise

Dane and Cash have been best friends since they were eleven years old. That’s about eighteen years now, and I think I could count the minutes I’ve spent alone with Cash on one hand.

We fly out on Saturday – Penelope wasn’t lying when she said we need to move fast – and Cash and I have agreed to meet in a café today to discuss plans and ground rules.

I’m already a nervous wreck, and it doesn’t help that I’m running late.

I got distracted by a call with Amber venting about a nightmare client she’s currently dealing with.

I fire off a quick and apologetic message to Cash as I run up the high street. He responds in seconds with nothing but a thumbs-up emoji.

Oh God. He’s pissed.

It takes me another seven minutes to find The Steam Room, the small and cosy café we’ve agreed to meet at. Before I enter, I catch a glimpse of myself in the window. Not to toot my own horn, but I think I look pretty cute today.

It’s the first time I’ve left the house in over a week and a half, and I’ve scrubbed up pretty well.

I’m trialling a new shampoo and conditioner combo – gifted by a brand before The Video – and it’s done wonders with my hair.

My hair falls in ringlets around my face and has a picture-perfect shine to it.

I don’t think my hair has looked so healthy in months.

A small part of me wants to take a picture right now and post it, but my anxiety outweighs my daring, and I resist the urge.

As I give my hair an extra bit of fluffing, I realise that someone is staring at me through the window.

Grey-green eyes meet mine, and I yelp. Cash is staring directly at me, his lips twisted into a smirk. He gestures to the empty seat in front of him and then glances at an imaginary watch on his wrist.

‘Sorry,’ I mouth before hurrying into The Steam Room. ‘Sorry, sorry, sorry!’ I say again as I plop down into the empty seat. ‘I was helping a friend out, and I lost track of time.’

‘It’s no big deal,’ Cash says. ‘No need to apologise.’

He sounds sincere, but I know it’s just a facade. I can tell by the way he’s avoiding holding eye contact with me for more than a half second. He’s definitely irritated with me.

‘Well, let me get you something to drink,’ I say. ‘It’s the least I can do.’

‘Don’t worry about it.’ He gestures to the table between us. There’s a big black teapot and two small cups beside it. ‘I’ve already ordered for us. Wild berry, right?’

Surprise jolts through me as I watch him pour me a steaming cup of wild berry tea.

‘Yeah,’ I say. ‘Thanks.’

He shrugs like it’s the most normal thing in the world to know the tea preference of your best friend’s younger sister.

We sit for a moment, quietly sipping our tea, and I take the opportunity to watch him. His wavy hair is pulled into a loose bun today, with a few wispy strands falling over his face. I’m suddenly overcome with the urge to run my fingers through his hair. I wonder if it’s soft as it looks.

Cash clears his throat suddenly, and I realise I’ve been caught staring.

‘So,’ he says. ‘Jamaica.’

‘Jamaica,’ I nod. ‘Thanks again for agreeing to come with me.’

‘Free trip to Jamaica. Who would say no?’

I wait for a moment, wondering if he’ll fill in the pause with something like ‘ and the company’s not too bad either ’, to assuage my fear that he doesn’t actually like me. But no clarifier comes. He really is just in this for the free trip.

‘Right,’ I say, trying not to let the disappointment show on my face.

I clear my throat. ‘Let’s get down to business.

Penelope’s sent over an itinerary – I’ll forward it to you later.

They’ve got lots planned for us. For the most part, we can pick and choose which activities we’d like to do, but the resort is, um, focused on couples, so they’ll be expecting us to do a few of the couples activities definitely. ’

‘Things like what?’ Cash asks.

‘Nothing big,’ I say lightly, hoping my face isn’t as red as it feels. ‘Maybe a couples massage. Tandem jet-skiing. They’ve got dancing lessons at night as well, which I think Penelope is keen on us giving a go. Stuff like that.’

If the idea of us getting a couples massage or having my chest pressed up against his back while we zoom through the sea bothers him, Cash doesn’t let it show. His face is a perfect mask of indifference.

‘And you’ll be taking photos and videos the whole time?’ he asks. ‘For your Instagram?’

I nod. ‘Yes, exactly. I’m also going to make a vlog for my YouTube channel.’

‘And I’ve got to be in all of them?’

There’s something in his eyes when he says that. Is it panic? Regret? I can’t tell.

‘Not all of them,’ I say. ‘The resort will definitely want a few because we’re going specifically to experience the romantic element, but we can get creative with the framing if you don’t want your face to be in any of them.’

Secretly, I always think it’s really cringe when people soft-launch their new partner by posting carefully taken photos and videos where the partner’s face isn’t showing.

Up until all of three months ago, in between my hair, fashion and make-up posts, there were proud photos of Ethan and me littering my feed.

I never tried to hide him. Maybe that’s what made him so bold.

Cash shrugs. ‘I don’t mind being in a few. You’ll let me see them before you post anything?’

‘Of course. I won’t post anything you’re not happy with. And I won’t tag you in anything.’ A thought suddenly occurs to me. ‘Are you even on Instagram?’

‘Kind of,’ he says. ‘I have an account. A private account. I don’t really post or use it very much.’

‘Wow.’ I don’t know why this surprises me so much. ‘You know, I assumed you’d be like Dane and have zero social media presence.’

‘I might as well,’ he says with a soft chuckle. ‘Like I said, I don’t really post much.’

‘Can I see?’ I ask. I’m intrigued.

He hesitates for a beat too long.

‘Sorry,’ I say. For a moment, I let myself forget what this was. We’re not friends. Cash doesn’t like me. ‘You don’t have to share it with me if you don’t want to.’

‘No, no. It’s fine,’ he says, pulling out his phone. He launches Instagram and shows me his screen.

The username @CASHMONEY93 jumps out at me, and I can’t turn my snort of laughter into a believable cough quickly enough.

‘ Cash Money 93 ?’ I cackle. ‘That is hilarious.’

Cash’s cheeks are slightly redder than before. ‘Yeah. Didn’t think that one through.’

‘You know you can change it, right?’

His eyes widen slightly. ‘Seriously?’

My cackle turns into a full-blown laughing fit. ‘You didn’t know that your username isn’t permanent?’

‘No!’ Cash groans, running a hand down his face. ‘I assumed that it was a permanent kind of thing.’

‘Pretend I never told you,’ I say, still laughing. ‘Never change it. It’s maybe the funniest thing I’ve seen in weeks.’

Cash’s face splits into quite possibly the widest smile I’ve ever seen on him. I don’t know if it’s the way the sun is hitting him or what, but he’s mesmerising to look at in this moment.

‘Then I’ll keep it,’ he says. He meets and holds my gaze. ‘Just for you.’

My heart skips a beat, and I quickly look away. ‘Thanks.’

We spend the next half an hour discussing our plans to meet on Saturday, and I give him a rundown of what to expect when we meet Penelope and the others.

‘Others?’ Cash asks, looking slightly alarmed.

‘There will definitely be some other influencers and their partners coming on the trip,’ I explain.

‘I thought it would be just us,’ he says. For some reason, he looks a little deflated.

‘Very unlikely. There will probably be at least three other couples. The brand has to make sure they get the content they need on this trip. They can’t rely entirely on just us.’

Cash nods. ‘That makes sense.’

‘Just to warn you, the other influencers might seem surprised to see you. My break-up with Ethan was pretty public.’ And that’s putting it nicely.

‘That’s fine. I can handle that.’

I wait to see if he’s going to ask anything about Ethan, but nothing comes. His commitment to not caring about me at all is impressive in a weird, twisted way.

‘I’ll have to introduce you as my new boyfriend,’ I say, tentatively. Cash drops his gaze once again. ‘And they’ll expect us to look the part.’

‘What does that mean?’

I bite my lip. ‘Nothing you wouldn’t be comfortable with. Just play the part as best you can. I’m sure you’ve had plenty of practice.’

It suddenly occurs to me that I know nothing about Cash’s dating history. Dane isn’t the kind of brother to offer up that information unprompted, and I’ve never thought to ask. I wonder what kind of boyfriend he is.

‘Is there anything you wouldn’t be comfortable with?’ he asks.

‘We won’t have to kiss or anything like that,’ I say quickly. Maybe a bit too quickly because Cash quirks a brow. ‘I just mean, you’re my brother’s best friend. I don’t want to make anything weird.’

‘Weirder than pretending to be your boyfriend to get a free trip to Jamaica?’

My lips twitch. At least he can see the humour in all of this. ‘Exactly.’

‘Got it,’ he says. ‘No kissing.’

‘What about you?’ I ask. ‘Is there anything you wouldn’t be comfortable with?’

Something stirs in the pit of my stomach as Cash looks me directly in the eye, licks his lips, and says, ‘No.’

I’m lying in bed – feet hanging off the edge – when something suddenly hits me. I haven’t followed Cash back on Instagram yet.

After we finished discussing our boundaries on the trip, we shared one more pot of tea before we parted ways.

I’m pleasantly surprised by how easily the conversation flowed between us.

I don’t think we’re on our way to becoming best friends or anything like that, but I think we’ve definitely taken a step in the right direction.

I fish out my phone, pull up Instagram and quickly type @ CASHMONEY93 into the search bar. He comes up immediately, and, to my surprise, the little blue bar next to his profile picture says, ‘ FOLLOW BACK ’.

Cash is already following me.

I quickly flick through my notifications, but there’s no sign of Cash there in the last few days. That means he’s been following me for a while. I wonder why he didn’t mention it.

I head back to his profile and press FOLLOW BACK . I only have to wait two minutes before I get another notification informing me that Cash has accepted my follow request.

Very speedy. I wasn’t expecting a response so fast.

Cash wasn’t lying when he said that he doesn’t post much. There are only two posts on his feed. The oldest one, posted nearly ten years ago, is a photo of a sunset with a heavy Valencia filter over it.

The other one, posted last summer, is a photo of him and a group of friends standing beside a lake. They’re all covered in mud from head to toe and have identical grins pasted across their faces. Dane is in the photo too.

I know where this photo is from. One of Dane and Cash’s mutual friends got married last year, and they went on a muddy obstacle course for his stag do. Dane was complaining for weeks about all the mud in his hair.

My gaze drifts to Cash. He’s wearing a criminally short pair of shorts, and his mud and water-drenched T-shirt clings to his torso, showing off his impressive form.

I’m not under any kind of delusion. Cash is hot. And we’re about to spend the next week pretending to be a couple.

The thought makes my spine tingle.

I hover over the tagged pictures tab on his profile, suddenly desperate to see more of him, but a notification from Amber distracts me.

AMBER

This client is driving me up the wall

FaceTime?

I tap out of Instagram and quickly call Amber. She answers almost immediately with a long groan.

‘If you suddenly stop hearing from me, I’ve probably been arrested for murder, and I’m in jail,’ she says dramatically.

‘What’s going on?’ I laugh.

‘Remember Asshole Client?’

How could I forget? This man has been the bane of her life for the last six months. She doesn’t wait for me to respond before she ploughs on.

‘Well, he’s reared his stupidly handsome head again. I don’t think I’ve had a more indecisive client in my entire career. He hates everything I show him, even though it fits his brief to a tee . At this point, I’m starting to think he’s being difficult on purpose.’

‘At least you’re getting paid,’ I say.

‘That’s true,’ she laughs. ‘I’ve been charging him time and a half recently because what the fuck. Sometimes I think he’s genuinely messing with me for fun.’

She rants for a little bit longer, alternating between calling him Asshole Client and Stupidly Handsome Dickhead. Interesting. Very interesting. I file this away to bring up later when she’s less heated.

‘Anyway,’ she sighs after ten minutes. ‘How’re you doing? All ready for Jamaica?’

‘Nearly. I’ve finished packing, and I met with Cash earlier today to talk about plans and boundaries.’

‘Oooh,’ Amber wiggles her brows. ‘Boundaries, huh?’

‘So things don’t get weird. He’s Dane’s best friend. I’m not trying to ruin that.’

‘That’s fair,’ says Amber. ‘Have you thought about content? What’s your first post gonna be?’

I have actually spent a lot of time thinking about that. ‘I think I’ll test it out with a few stories first. See what kind of response I get, and if it’s not too bad, I’ll maybe post something to the grid on day two or three.’

‘You gonna post Cash?’

‘Definitely not on the grid, but he’ll make some kind of appearance in my stories for sure.’ A tactical back-of-the-head shot or something similar.

‘I hope Ethan sees it, and it sends him spiralling,’ Amber cackles. But I don’t join her. Amber doesn’t notice. ‘Not to be a jerk, but Cash is a trillion times hotter than Ethan.’

‘Mmm,’ I hum noncommittally. I don’t want to talk about Ethan. Besides, he’s been blocked ever since The Video.

Amber spews some more Ethan hate – which usually I’d be all for – and then remembers she’s got a pizza in the oven.

‘Oh no. It’s burnt.’ She holds the pizza up in front of the camera, showing off a completely blackened circle.

‘That’s an understatement,’ I laugh.

‘I’m gonna go try and find something else to eat. Talk to you later, babe.’ Amber blows me a kiss and then cuts the call.

I pull up Instagram again, this time to check my follower count (229,629 – ouch), but Cash’s page is still up.

I’m not sure what comes over me, but I open up the stag do photo, and after a moment’s hesitation, I double-tap it.