The First Last Kiss (24 page)

A sudden soft, island breeze lifts the thin gauzy curtains that are pulled across our balcony and parts them a little. I have a sudden urge to see the sea and gaze at the beauty of the island. I bound over to the window and open the curtains. And as I do, we all stare in horror at our view.

It isn’t a sparkling turquoise sea, or a flaming Ibizan sunset. It’s a . . .

‘COCK!’ squeals Casey.

‘COCK!’ gasps Mia.

‘COCK!’ I shout, pointing at the apartment-building wall opposite our window, which has an unmistakably large, four-foot-high penis scrawled over it – complete with spiky pubic hairs. We all collapse on the floor, cackling hysterically.

‘Come on, girls,’ Mia says when we’ve finally calmed down. ‘Let’s get drunk.’ She links both of our arms and we squeeze out of our hotel door and I feel a glow of warmth, not just from the stifling humidity of the evening, but from the thought that this holiday might just work after all.

The music is thumping in the small, sweaty bar that is one of many small, sweaty bars that line the main drag or the ‘West End’ of San Antonio. We’re standing around a table, a large pitcher of Sex on the Beach is in front of us, which has prompted a pathetic amount of chat-up lines from blokes of varying ages and degrees of attractiveness. Obviously, I told them where to go which was received with loud boos and jeers – from Casey and Mia. It seems the one thing they agree on is that they’d like some of what we saw out of our hotel window. So much for a week of girlie bonding.

‘Come on, Molly,’ Casey begs as I bat another group of guys away. ‘You can’t expect us to not talk to any men at all. Think of all those holiday romances we could be having! There are some proper cuties here. Look at him over there!’

She smiles and bites her straw seductively as the sleazy old bar owner winks at Casey and beckons her over. I grab her arm as she makes to go, a natural reflex of mine. I’ve had too many nights out where Casey has made a beeline for the oldest/sleaziest man in the room. And just because we’re older now, doesn’t mean I’m about to stop protecting her.

‘No, Casey! Seriously, you have no idea where he’s been. And he’s way too old for you.’

‘He can’t be more than thirty-five. And think how much of the world, of
life
he’s seen . . . ’ She sighs and wiggles her fingers at him in a Marilyn Monroe-esque flirty wave.

‘I am,’ I say, pulling a face – and her hand back down. ‘And that’s what grosses me out.’ I turn to Mia who is looking over at him like there’s a bad smell under her nose. ‘Back me up here Mia, you agree with me, right?’

She shrugs dispassionately. ‘Depends. I mean, if she’s just looking for a fuck—’

‘Mia!’ I exclaim.

‘What? They’re two consenting adults, after all.’ She plays with her straw absent-mindedly. ‘She’s just drawn to him because her dad walked out. It’s called father fixation or abandonment angst or something. Maybe a good seeing to from Signor Sleazebag over there will make her get over her issues. You never know, it could save her a fortune in therapy in her thirties.’ She pauses and downs most of her drink and pours herself another from the pitcher. ‘But if she’s under any sort of ridiculous illusion that he’ll fall in
love
with her and they’ll end up happily ever after, well, then she’s even more stupid than she loo—’

I elbow Mia but it’s too late. Casey glares at her and looks sulkily away. There is nothing she hates more than being told she’s stupid.

‘I think it’s time for a toast!’ I say brightly. ‘To my BFFs!’ I start singing mine and Casey’s song to placate her. ‘We’ve only got each other now and we’ll always be a-round . . . ’ I was hoping this would lift the mood but Casey just glowers at me, and then at Mia who is looking at me like I’m a freak. I stop singing mid-sentence and just clink their glasses. ‘Here’s to having a great girlie holiday. And remember . . . ’

‘We’re
hot
?’ Mia says, waggling her arms and legs as Casey rolls her eyes.

‘
Of course,
that, but I was going to say, no letting any guys come between us, OK?’

Casey nods. But only when I prod her. Mia does too, but then immediately thrusts her glass at me as a young guy starts thrusting against her. I turn and put our drinks on the table and when I look back she’s snogging his face off. Great. I turn to Casey but she’s disappeared. I look around as a cheer erupts from the middle of the dance floor and I suddenly spot her, doing the limbo in the middle of it, much to the delight of all the guys who have surrounded her. I sigh, pour myself another drink from the pitcher, and down it in one.

‘Ughh,’ I groan. The three of us are lying on the beach, in the heat of the midday sun, trying to burn the alcohol from our bodies and the memories of our drunken night from our minds. It’s not working.

I lift my sunglasses and turn on my side. ‘Please tell me I didn’t actually snog that really ugly 18-year-old who was hovering around me all night.’

Mia moves from her graceful sun-worshipping position on her towel, arms placed carefully by her side, hands palm-up, legs parted and turned out like they’re in second position, bikini straps tucked underneath her.

‘No, Molly, you absolutely, definitely, did not in any way snog Gerard, that really ugly 18-year-old with the pizza-face and perspiration issues,’ she replies sarcastically, slipping her hand into my bag, which is lying between us, and holding up a piece of paper she’s taken from it that has Gerard’s name, home address and phone number, and email address.

Casey snorts with laughter and then sits up and holds her head between her hands. ‘Ugh. Moved. Too. Quickly.’ She pops on a sun hat and rests back on her elbows making her tummy look impossibly taut. ‘And you absolutely, definitely, did not then proceed to snog his best mate which then caused a fight and resulted in us all being thrown out of the bar.’

I put my hands over my face. ‘Oh
God
.’ I groan. ‘I blame you both. You’re bad influences on me. This was
meant
to be a No Guys Allowed trip, remember?’

‘Uh,’ Mia says, wincing as she opens one eye and raises a finger. ‘Firstly, do you really need to speak so loudly?’ She mimes turning a dial down and I reach over and hit her. ‘And secondly. Ouch. Hurts. To speak.’ She lowers her arm. ‘To be honest, Molly, my aim is to get as much horizontal action as I can over the next week. Once I stop wanting to hurl.’

‘Yeah, well, I still think you let me down,’ I grumble. ‘If you hadn’t abandoned me with that pitcher of alcohol, I never would have ended up in that mess.’

‘Correction,’ Mia says, wagging her finger, ‘you let your
self
down.’

‘And your knickers . . . ’ Casey adds gleefully. ‘Over there on the sun lounger, remember?’

‘NO!’ I squeal, and sit up, grappling to tie up my bikini straps to protect my modesty. ‘I didn’t! I
know
I didn’t do that. I’d remember, wouldn’t I? Wouldn’t I?’ They both look at me with falsely sympathetic faces.

‘Chill out, babes,’ Casey says as they start laughing. ‘We’re just winding you up. It’d take more than your body weight in alcohol to make you lose control THAT much.’

‘Well anyway, that’s it,’ I say decisively, picking up my book and smacking Casey with it. ‘No more drunken encounters for me.’

‘So what are you going to have instead?’ Mia says, lifting her sunglasses and arching her eyebrow imperiously.

‘Some beautifully romantic holiday love affair,’ Casey giggles, knowing this is as unlikely for me as it sounds.

‘Nope. Neither. This,’ I point at my now kaftan-covered body, ‘is off limits. Particularly here.’ I point at my heart.

‘Don’t you mean there?’ Casey winks and points at the black triangle of material covering my nether regions, just visible through the full-body cover-up I’m wearing. Mia laughs and I fling my arms out and hit them both.

‘There too,’ I say defensively. ‘Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to read my book.’ And I try to drown out Casey’s incessant chatter about the hot Spanish bartender by getting completely lost in
Atonement
.

Later, I’m laying on my lilo, head turned to one side, eyes half closed. The late-afternoon sun is warming my back and I’m mindlessly watching my fingers create intricate patterns of ripples in the water, listening to the
twinkle, ping
that the water makes, accompanied by the gentle
thwack
of the waves against the rubber lilo. I feel like I am in the midst of a grand orchestra of the elements, with the sun as the conductor and the sea as the string section. Over on the distant beach the melodious laughter and chatter has become the background chorus. It’s blissful out here on the ocean, uninterrupted by anyone. I’m alone with my thoughts, drifting in the endless calm of the ocean. Just me . . .

‘ARGH!’ I shout as I am unceremoniously thrown off the side of my lilo by something banging into me. I emerge from under the water and cling on to the inflatable with my eyes still closed, kicking my legs and spluttering as I smooth my hair out of my eyes and wipe my nose. ‘What the—’

‘FUCK! I’m so sorry!’ a male voice gasps. I hear a splash and someone swimming over. Then I feel a pair of hands grab at my body.

‘Get OFF!’ I yell, blinking wildly and rubbing saltwater from my eyes as I try to scramble back onto the lilo, smacking off my invisible attacker’s hands which, to be fair, appear to only be attempting to propel my legs back onto the lilo. I simultaneously try to hit him and grasp my bikini bottoms, which are slipping down in an alarming fashion. ‘Stop manhandling me!’ I splutter as I get another mouthful of sea. ‘I can get back up myself!’

‘OK, OK! I was only trying to help.’

I heave myself up on the lilo and sit astride it, trying to regain some of my dignity by pulling my bikini bottoms out of my bum.

‘You could at least apologize for crashing your lilo into me,’ the voice says from behind me.

‘Crashing into
you
?’ I splutter. ‘Are you kidding?’ I look over my shoulder and glare down indignantly as I take my first look at the idiot driver of the other lilo who is treading water next to me.

‘Ryan?!’
I exclaim.

He looks up and bursts out laughing.

‘Fuck
ing
hell! Molly Carter!’

His broad, tanned shoulders are glistening above the surface of the water. His blond hair is cropped short, making him look older and more rugged now that he has lost the last bit of puppy fat off his face. His skin is the deep acorn-brown of someone used to spending lots of time in the sun, with paler skin just visible underneath the sandy prickles of his stubble. His blond eyelashes are all wet and stuck together, his blue eyes as turquoise as the sea we’re surrounded by and I notice the very tentative beginnings of laughter lines around his eyes.

‘I should’ve known it was you, Cooper,’ I say coolly. ‘You were always showing off in your Golf GTI. No wonder you can’t steer a bloody lilo either.’

‘Hey, as far as I could tell, you had your eyes shut!’ he retorts. ‘I’m pretty sure that would constitute an immediate fail in the Lilo Driving Test. Didn’t you read the Ocean Highway Code before you came out on your vehicle? At least I’m a qualified sailor.’

I’m reminded of our last meeting a year ago when he was about to set sail for Sydney. I’d like to say I haven’t thought about him since then, but I’d be lying. It’s weird. He got under my skin that night on the
Bembridge
, more than I thought possible. My heart is now racing uncontrollably, I can’t believe that we’ve met here in Ibiza of all places. What does it mean? Are we being drawn together, like the romantic equivalent of tectonic plates? Or is this Casey’s doing again?

I look over to the beach and see a distant figure in a bright-yellow bikini standing up with her arm held out like a sailor’s, looking out to sea.

Hmmm.

Ryan grins at me and then pulls himself back up onto his own lilo with ease. I try not to look but can’t help noticing how his well-defined stomach muscles contract and his biceps bulge as he does so. There is a tiny smattering of moles in the middle of his chest that I have an urge to touch. I put my hand in the sea and splash water on my face to try and prevent any blushing. I think it might be too late.

‘What the hell are you doing out here anyway?’ I say, paddling my hands in the water, mainly to give them something to do, but also to try and encourage us further into shore. I realize that we have drifted somewhat.

‘I’m here with the lads,’ he answers, brushing his hands over his head and leaving diamond droplets of glistening water in his golden hair. ‘We’ve been coming here for the last four or five years, since we were eighteen.’

‘Of course you have,’ I reply sarcastically, glancing down and self-consciously readjusting my plain black bikini top to ensure it’s covering (what there is of) my boobs properly.

‘What is that supposed to mean?’ Ryan folds his arms and looks at me.

I stop paddling, framing my eyes as I squint up at him. ‘Nothing, it’s just, well . . . the boys in Ibiza, it’s a bit of a cliché, isn’t it?’

He shakes his head and tuts. ‘You haven’t changed, Molly. You still like getting on your high horse even when you’re straddling a lilo, don’t you?’ he says, flicking his hand into the water and splashing me in the face.

‘Hey!’ I laugh as I splash him back. ‘You’re only defensive because it’s true!’

‘We come here for the beautiful beaches actually.’

I snort.

‘Oh OK, and the women too,’ he adds. ‘But what’s wrong with that? We’re young, free, single . . . ’

Tick, tick, TICK, I find myself thinking as I’m reminded of my updated secret Things I Want From a Boyfriend list. So secret, I haven’t even shown Mia or Casey. It is squirrelled away in my diary. I’ve been honing it for years.

Things I Want From a Boyfriend

•  Young. Not toy-boy young, but a couple of years older is OK

•  No ties, can do whatever they want, go anywhere, travel the world etc.

•  Single. No boyfriend-stealing allowed EVER (See BFF List)