Page 6 of One Week in Paradise

‘Not bad,’ Cash says, peeking over my shoulder.

I hum in agreement. ‘I think I might share it. Are you okay with that?’

‘Why wouldn’t I be okay?’ he asks.

‘I’m just checking because your face is in it.’

‘It’s fine. I look pretty good.’

I roll my eyes, mostly because it’s true. He looks amazing. But, then again, when does he not? I take a deep breath and prepare to reshare the photo to my own story. I add a small caption that says, ‘ Jamaica bound !’ and then hit share.

It’s my first post since The Video went viral, and every single nerve in my body is on edge as I watch the story upload.

‘You want a drink?’ Cash says suddenly. ‘You look really stressed.’

I snort. ‘Understatement of the year.’

‘Come on,’ he says.

We make our way to the lounge bar. I order a cranberry and vodka, and Cash orders the same.

‘I’m not a big drinker,’ he says. ‘So I’m trusting you.’

‘It’s my default drink,’ I say, hopping up onto a bar stool. Cash doesn’t sit down. Instead, he leans against the bar.

‘You like berry flavours.’

It’s not a question. More of an observation. A very astute observation.

‘I do,’ I say as I sip my drink. ‘I’m surprised you noticed.’

Cash shrugs. ‘I notice a lot of things.’

‘Like what else?’

He opens his mouth like he’s about to answer, then closes it and smirks. ‘You’ll have to find out.’

‘That sounds like a challenge.’

Cash leans forward, entering my personal space. I freeze as his hair brushes against my cheek. He picks up his glass and pulls back, seemingly unaware of just how close we just were.

‘Maybe it is,’ he says as he sips his drink. ‘This isn’t too bad.’

‘I’d never steer you wrong, Cash.’

‘Hm, that remains to be seen. We’ve still got a week to go. Plenty of chances to steer me wrong.’

I clutch my chest and huff out an overly dramatic gasp. ‘I’d never ! Don’t you trust me?’

‘Of course I do.’ And he sounds completely earnest.

‘Well then, I’m going to need you to trust that I won’t steer you wrong. This is about to be the best week of your life.’

He smiles that beautiful sunshine smile from the café, and I feel my heart stutter for a second.

‘I’m gonna hold you to that.’

Cash and I sit near the back of the plane, far away from the others. Although we’re closer to the toilet than I would have liked, not having to keep up the ‘boyfriend-girlfriend’ act for another ten hours is a blessing. I’m not sure how well it’s going.

Penelope, Lacey and Danny all seem convinced, and I don’t know Meera and Sara well enough to get a gauge on them.

But Bea… Bea could be a problem. She’s not said anything, but I’ve caught her staring at Cash and me curiously, and I know she’s definitely got questions.

Thankfully she’s kind enough not to ask anything in front of the group, but I know that she’s waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

Cash is definitely taking advantage of the distance between us and the others. The second we step away from the group, any pretence of liking me is gone. He doesn’t even wait for me before he storms ahead to find our seats. It’s getting a bit tiring dealing with this yo-yo personality of his.

By the time I reach our row, he’s already slumped in the window seat, leaning against the window, eyes firmly squeezed shut.

The friendly and easy-going Cash I’d enjoyed a drink with in the lounge is gone. Asshole Cash is back. I don’t know why it irks me, but it does. Just what is it about me that he dislikes so much?

I stow my carry-on in the overhead compartment and then drop down into the aisle seat. Cash doesn’t stir, even as I jostle him as I get comfortable.

This is going to be a long week.

I whip out my phone as the flight attendants begin their cabin checks.

INSTAGRAM

34 notifications

I swallow as I tap on the icon and bring up the app. About thirty people have liked my last story post, and four of them have responded. Amber is right at the top of my DMs.

@amberrrr _ HAVE FUN!! TAKE LOTS OF PICS. POST THEM.

The other three responses are from people I don’t know.

@leigh.dove34 OOOH!! where is your jumper from? so cute!

@blue_birdgal so jealous, have fun!

And the last message.

@gail23456862 lol. is this one taken too?

The last message makes my heart jump into my throat. I delete it without opening it, and it takes all my strength not to delete the entire story.

This is actually quite tame compared to the messages I got shortly after The Video went viral, but it’s enough to have me doubting this whole plan.

I switch my phone to aeroplane mode and hope the ten hours will be enough to get me out of this mindset.

The plane begins to taxi, slowly picking up momentum as it rolls down the runway. I glance over at Cash. He’s turned away from me as much as the small space will allow.

Seriously? What an ass . Does he think I’m going to give him a disease or something?

The plane makes a turn, and Cash squeezes his thighs. He’s gripping them so tightly his hands have gone white, and I’d be willing to bet that there are tiny crescent marks in the fabric of his sweatpants.

The plane jerks slightly as we crawl over an uneven patch on the ground, and Cash inhales sharply.

I realise something that makes me feel awful.

Cash is a nervous flyer.

Suddenly his behaviour back in the airport makes sense. He was probably trying to psyche himself up to board the plane. A wave of sympathy washes over me, and before I can really give it much thought, I put my hand over his.

He stiffens slightly and cracks open an eye.

‘Are you okay?’ I ask.

He closes his eyes again. ‘Mm. I just—’ A deep, shuddery inhale. ‘I hate take-off. Landing too. I’ll be fine once we’re in the air.’

‘Do you need anything?’

‘I’m fine,’ he murmurs. He hasn’t opened his eyes again, but I can feel the tension leaving his body as I squeeze his hand. ‘I promise. Just give me ten minutes.’

‘All right.’

I keep my hand over his, and he doesn’t seem to mind.

It doesn’t feel as weird as it should. There’s a warmth emanating from him that is oddly comforting.

There are a few callouses, but his hand is surprisingly soft for someone who works in construction, and before I can help myself, I start to imagine his hands wandering down the length of my body.

I’m not sure where the thought comes from, but I picture his hands ghosting gently down my sides before dipping down past my belly button and slipping under—

‘I think I’m good now.’

Cash’s voice snaps me out of my impromptu fantasy, and I open my eyes. I hadn’t even realised I’d closed them.

We’re in the air now, and Cash looks noticeably less stressed.

‘Thanks,’ he says as he pulls his hand out from underneath mine.

‘No problem,’ I say. And I try not to think about how cold my hand suddenly feels.

The rest of the flight is uneventful. Cash spends most of it sleeping, and I’m left aimlessly scrolling through the in-flight movie selection. I end up watching all three Magic Mike movies and treat myself to six hours of Channing Tatum gyrating on stage.

Cash wakes up halfway through Magic Mike XXL and raises a brow once he notices what’s on my screen.

I give him a half-hearted smile, and, to his credit, he doesn’t say anything.

I wouldn’t say he’s been the chattiest person during the flight, but when the pilot’s voice crackles through the speakers to tell the cabin crew to prepare for landing, Cash suddenly stiffens.

‘It’ll be okay,’ I say gently.

‘I know,’ Cash says through gritted teeth. ‘I know it’s stupid.’

‘It’s not stupid. We can’t help our fears.’

He gives me a sideways glance. ‘What’re you afraid of?’

‘Sharks. Dane made me watch Jaws and Deep Blue Sea back to back when I was seven. I’ve been traumatised ever since.

’ I shudder as I remember the scene in Deep Blue Sea where Samuel L.

Jackson gets eaten by a shark. It’s haunted me for years and still makes me uneasy whenever I see a large body of water.

Cash snorts. ‘I guess I’ll be on shark watch this week.’

‘Oh, I’m not getting in the sea,’ I tell him. ‘I’ll paddle around in a pool, but not the sea. It makes me too nervous. And I can’t swim.’

Before he can respond, we jerk forward as the plane hits a tiny bit of turbulence on its descent. Cash’s face goes pale, and he grips the armrest so tightly that I’m afraid he’s going to pull the leather off.

‘Just focus on me,’ I say softly as I reach out to hold his hand. As soon as our skin makes contact, Cash yanks his hand away.

The sting of his rejection hits me harder than I expect.

‘Sorry,’ I mumble. ‘I was just trying to—’

Cash brings his hand back, entwines his fingers with mine and squeezes tightly.

‘Like this,’ he mutters. His eyes are shut, and his jaw is clenched tightly. ‘If you don’t mind.’

I look down at our hands, clasped together like two perfect puzzle pieces.

‘I don’t mind,’ I say. And I don’t. Not one bit.