Nick’s hot – like core-of-the-earth hot.
And I’ve never thought that about a huge, muscular guy before. Megan dragged me tofiveAvengers movies so she could drool over Thor. And sure, Chris Hemsworth is objectively a handsome man, but sexy? Uh, no. I like a slight build, vampirishly pale skin, chiselled cheekbones, and dark hair. Like Nicholas. WhenThe Sandmancame out, I crushed so hard on Tom Sturridge, Megan bought me a Funko Pop figurine that sits on my nightstand at home.
But seeing Nick in bed shirtless (and possibly naked – hard to say) challenged the aesthetic ideal I’ve had since I sawHeathersin sixth grade and fell madly in lust with Christian Slater.
His broad shoulders – Nick’s, not Christian’s – bulging biceps, the veins in his forearms popping, those big, strong hands, and that barrel of a bare chest covered in thick, dark-blond hair… I want to climb onto that bed, straddle him, and lose my fingers in that thatch of hair.
He’d probably squash me flat if he rolled on top of me. And I wouldn’t mind one bit.
Nick’s question hangs in the air as he regards me with a mix of curiosity, pity, and the forced enthusiasm of a children’s party entertainer. The last two aren’t comforting. But he seems oblivious that I want to nest in his chest hair, so there’s that.
‘Well,’ I say loudly, clapping my hands together – I can be a party entertainer too – ‘this afternoon we’re going to the Blue Grotto. They’re picking us up at the marina in a private boat at twelve-thirty, and after we’ve seen the grotto, we’ll stay out on the water for a bit – swim if we want – then have a late lunch on the boat.’
‘That sounds great,’ he says, seeming genuinely delighted. Only, as soon as the words are out of his mouth, his expression sours.
‘What?’
‘Well, if the ferry ride over was anything to go by…’
‘Yeah, that’s why I bought these at the pharmacy,’ I say, fetching a packet of motion-sickness pills from my pocket.
I hand them over and he studies the Italian label, his eyes narrowed. Then realisation dawns and he looks up.
‘That’s… Thank you – that’s very thoughtful.’
‘Selfish motives,’ I say. ‘Can’t have you throwing up all over the place. Would ruin the vibe.’
‘Ah,’ he says with a snigger. ‘Well, you seem to have thought of everything.’
‘A producer’s lot in life,’ I retort. ‘Stay on top of the minutiae, have contingencies up your sleeve – Plans C, D, and E…’
‘Guilt travel companies into giving away expensive freebies.’
‘I didn’t guilt them into anything, but Imayhave laid the American accent on extra thick and hinted at suing.’
‘Suing?’ he asks, his eyes popping.
‘Leveraging our litigious reputation. I wouldn’tactuallysue. It’s just a vacation – it’s not like they fucked up my wedding or anything. I mean, can youimagine?’
The blood drains from Nick’s face, turning him a weird shade of green.
‘Nick? Are you okay?’
He doesn’t answer, sitting on the nearest sun lounger and staring into space.
I hover nearby. ‘Do you want a glass of water or something?’
‘No, it’s fine. I, er…’ He sharply shakes his head and sucks in a deep breath.
‘Have I said the wrong thing? I keep doing that.’
‘Well, I’ve been guilty of that too, but it’s not you – I promise.’
He keeps staring at the ornate tile floor, the tension in the air growing legs. Maybe I should leave him alone. He’ll be moving to another hotel later – and from what Vittorio said, it’s pretty basic – so it’s only fair that Nick gets to enjoy the suite for as long as possible.
Besides, Nicholas will be awake soon, and I really want to talk to him. I figure I’ll find a cute café with a view, grab some breakfast, and find out how it’s going in Iceland. Iceland – shit, I didn’t ask Nick about his brother.
‘Hey, so I’m gonna head out for a bit, but did you find out why your brother and his wife are in Reykjavik?’