‘Do you like your job?’ Aidan suddenly asked me.
I leaned back on my elbows, too, lifting my face to the sky.
‘Sort of. I guess it wasn’t exactly what I had in mind when I decided I wanted to work in TV.’
‘What did you have in mind?’
I laughed. ‘I imagined myself producing one of those really cool Netflix shows.Amazing Vacation Rentals, or something where they have about twenty crew members and make everything look cinematic.’
‘You like the big-budget stuff.’
‘I like the idea of going further than Lanzarote.’
‘Holiday Shop is just a starting point, isn’t it?’ he said. ‘Nothing’s stopping you doing your dream job after.’
‘In theory.’
‘You don’t sound convinced …’ he said, leaning back further, so that we were almost perfectly symmetrical.
‘I’m realistic, that’s all. Exciting stuff doesn’t generally happen to me. I’ve never been one to dream big. I think shooting kayaks on Loch Lomond or paragliding in Tenerife is probably as good as it’s going to get. And that’s fine. I like it. I’m lucky, right? My job’s pretty exciting compared to most people’s.’
Aidan rubbed at his jaw. ‘I agree. I tell myself that again and again. But then, at the same time, I know I want more.’
I looked at his legs, stretched out, dangerously close to mine. Dangerous because I suddenly wanted to press my thigh into his. And he was a stranger, pretty much, and I never felt like this, so why was this happening?
‘Such as?’ I said, thinking that if I kept talking, my mind wouldn’t wander.
‘I want to find these little hidden corners of the world where hardly anyone has been and I want to write about them so brilliantly that everyone who reads my article thinks: Ihaveto go there.’
‘What’s the most amazing place you’ve been to so far?’ I asked him.
He turned to look at me. ‘Chile, maybe. Or New Zealand? Saying that, I always find something amazing wherever I am.’
His eye lashes were really long, I could see that now that my eyes had accustomed to the dark. Stubble sprouted on his jawline, but it looked as though it would be soft if I ran my thumb over it.
‘Even Loch Lomond?’ I asked.
‘Even that.’
I held his gaze. For some reason, it didn’t feel as though I needed to look away, even though clearly I probably should. I brought my whisky to my lips and took a sip, putting one hand on my chest as the heat of it flowed down my throat, warming me as it went.
‘Good?’ he asked.
I nodded, taking another sip.
‘For some reason I can’t stop looking at you,’ he said, propping himself up on one hand, holding his whisky in the other. When he smiled, I felt my breath quicken.
I reached out, tentatively, stroking his wrist. Was this me making the first move? I usually made some attempt to play it cool in situations like this, but it never really got me anywhere, so maybe changing it up was good. He was either interested in getting to know me or he wasn’t; I didn’t suppose it mattered who touched who first.
He looked down at my fingers and then took a sip of his own drink and I watched his Adam’s apple bob up and down as he swallowed. I imagined trailing my finger under his chin, down his throat, unbuttoning his shirt, running my hand across his chest. He put his glass down and looped his fingers through my hair.
‘You’re very beautiful,’ he said, inching closer.
‘This is probably a bad idea,’ I said, not meaning it. ‘Because I’m supposed to—’
He kissed me mid-sentence. Lightly at first, then pulling back.
‘You were saying?’ he asked.