‘One sec,’ I call out.
I turn on the tap and quickly wash my hands. I don’t know what’s worse – Nick thinking I’ve been talking to myself or that I was on the toilet the whole time. I roll my eyes at myself and go and open the door.
‘Sorry,’ I say, ducking past him without making eye contact. The bathroom door shuts behind me and I look for the beach bag. Nick’s left it on the sofa, and I rush over and fish out my phone.
It only takes seconds to discover that I have no missed calls, and the only message is from Megan:
Still crushing on Superman?
‘Not helpful, Megs,’ I mutter, feeling the sting of guilt. But what makes it worse is that I haven’t heard from Nicholas and I’mrelieved.
‘Everything okay?’
I didn’t hear Nick come out of the bathroom and he startles me for the second time in as many minutes.
‘Uh, yep,’ I say, giving him a quick smile. ‘So?—’
‘Delaney—’
We both stop, gesturing for the other to go ahead. Only I have no idea what to say, so I insist he goes first.
He rubs a hand over his face, which does not instil confidence. It clearly pains him to say whatever’s on his mind, and I’m expecting something like,That was a mistake.
So when he looks me square in the eye and says, ‘I really wanted to kiss you just now,’ my knees nearly buckle beneath me.
‘What?’ I ask, only it gets lodged in my throat and I start coughing.
‘Here,’ says Nick.
He crosses to the bar cart, opens a bottle of water, and hands it over, and I stop banging on my chest to take a drink. It helps, butoh my god!
‘That took you by surprise,’ he says, his ability to read me comforting and unsettling at the same time.
I’ve never been someone who could do that. Probably why I went into producing rather than directing. You can’t direct actors if you don’t understand the nuances of people’s emotions.
But all these thoughts… I’m stalling.
‘Us nearly kissing or you saying you wanted to?’ I ask, acting braver than I feel.
‘Either –both,’ he says, his eyes fixed on mine.
‘Then yes.’
He nods, taking that onboard. ‘Look, we’re obviously stuck with each other?—’
My eyebrows shoot up and he cuts himself off.
‘Sorry, that came out wrong,’ he says, shaking his head.
I snigger – nervous laughter, fuelled by prosecco –lotsof prosecco – but it slices through the tension, and we share an understanding smile.
‘Okay, here’s the thing,’ I say, taking over as I start pacing the length of the room, ‘this is an unusual situation.’
‘It’s bonkers.’
‘Bonkers – yes, I like that,’ I say, pointing at him. ‘This is abonkerssituation and – as you so eloquently put it – wearestuck here. And no wonder we get along so well – we both make movies for a living. I mean, that’s a helluva coincidence, but when you have to share a hotel suite, it’s also a bonus, right?’
‘Absolutely,’ he agrees.