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So now we’re heading up to our room with, for reasons unknown, the rest of the group gathered at the foot of the stairs.
Tally wolf-whistles.
Olivia is blatantly staring at Joe’s butt as he retreats up the staircase.
And as for Frankie, well, she’s miming riding a bucking bronco while Dave tries to prise a bottle of tequila from her hands. ‘Stop it, Dave,’ she grumbles loudly. ‘I’m just excited for these two love birds. You get some, guys!’
‘Oh my god,’ Joe mumbles under his breath, taking the stairs two at a time.
I’m giggling as we round the corner and Joe pulls us both into our bedroom.
Once inside, he shuts the door and presses his back against it, sheer relief on his face.
‘I thought Frankie was about to follow us in here for a minute,’ he exhales.
I grimace. ‘You know the scene in a period drama when a royal couple has just got married? All the courtiers follow them into their bedroom and stand around the bed to make sure they consummate the marriage? This feels like that.’
‘Thank Christ we’re not in a period drama.’ Joe grins. ‘I would not be able to perform if Frankie and Celeste were in here.’
He pauses, looks ruffled, and now I’m standing here visualising Joe ‘performing’. I don’t hate the thought.
Suddenly I’m very aware that it’s just the two of us.
I take a gulp of the water he carried up for me, unsure what to do next. I mean, I should probably start with shaking the image of a naked Joe from my mind, right? I walk further into the room, spot the double bed and remember that we do actually have to navigate a night together now. Not like that, obviously.
But still.
‘Honestly, you take it,’ says Joe, reading my mind. ‘I can sneak downstairs later and kip on the sofa. Besides, I’m not sure if I’ll get much rest up here if you’re going to make those guinea pig noises when you’re asleep again.’
‘Oi!’ I jab him in the ribs, laughing. ‘I’m happy to share if you are? We’re adults. We’ll be fine.’
Why oh WHY did I just say that? Can Joe tell I’ve lost the plot today? I glance at him to see a look flash across his eyes.
‘We’ll be fine,’ he repeats in a low voice. Then he looks around the room like he’s coming to his senses. ‘Right. I might grab a quick shower, do you want to use the bathroom before I steam it up?’
Naked Joe. Steamy bathroom Joe. My mind fogs up quicker than a bathroom mirror might. Joe brushes past me as he reaches for the weekend bag he left on our bed and his soft T-shirt comes into contact with my bare upper arm. Completely innocuous but for some reason my heart is now pumping twice as fast and my brain is scrambling to make sense of this feeling. I physically wobble on the spot like a leaf blowing in the wind.
‘Oops.’ Joe stops right in front of me and puts both hands on my shoulders. ‘You okay?’
I nod dumbly.
Joe frowns. ‘Do you feel all right, Sophie?’
In response, I squeak and race into the bathroom.
I’m just drunk, right? These aren’t real life feelings. These are Drunk Sophie feelings. Silly old Drunk Sophie getting all hot and bothered by a boy. I’ll laugh about this in the morning, I decide as I finish up my skincare routine, tie my hair back in a bun and pull on my PJs. The baggy, moth-eaten T-shirt seemed like such a celebration of freedom when I packed earlier but I had not anticipated sharing a bed with Joe while wearing it. Not that it matters, I remind myself. I pull it over my head and stare wistfully into the bathroom mirror. It barely covers my arse. I’ll just have to dash straight out of the en suite and into bed, moving at such incredible speeds that Joe doesn’t see anything.
I scoop up my clothes and washbag with purpose, fling open the bathroom door and run.
Smack bang into Joe.
‘Jesus,’ he mutters as I ricochet off him, my neat bundle of stuff flying everywhere. Can I not even stand up straight in Joe’s presence anymore? Instinctively Joe has placed both hands on my hips to help me get my balance. They feel pleasingly warm against my skin, I note, realising that Joe also has very few clothes on. I track down along his firm, flat torso and linger at the fabric of his boxers.
Stop being inappropriate, Sophie!
Joe seems to realise that his palms are still on my hips and moves them quickly away.
My mind is still a steamed-up window so I blink it out and decide to just get the eff to bed. Only, as I bend down to pick my clothes off the floor I accidentally afford Joe a full glimpse of my underwear.
