‘Up to me?’ I looked around the villa as if it would provide me with answers. It did not. ‘I can help you pack,’ I said, but I didn’t move. ‘Or . . . you could stay, I suppose.’
Cam smiled, then reached out and gave my shoulder a little squeeze. It felt playful. ‘Attagirl.’
‘Attagirl?’ I raised a brow at him. ‘You’re trying to rile me up.’
‘God, it’s so fucking easy, Lizzy.’
I scoffed. ‘See, this is why I hate working with you.’
‘No, you don’t,’ he said, flopping down onto the couch.
‘What are you doing?’ I asked, gesturing to his nonchalant pose, shoes off, feet up on the table, pillow behind his head.
‘Well, since we’re not working together, but you’re also not kicking me out and we have nothing to do, why don’t we just hang?’
‘Hang?’
‘Yeah. Like two people who just survived a near-death experience and maybe want to . . . I don’t know. Decompress.’
I blinked at him. ‘What would we even do if we relaxed? I don’t think we’ve ever done that together.’
‘We went scuba diving.’
‘Cam, that was part of the cover. We were pretending to relax while spying on someone. I don’t think that counts as true relaxation.’
‘So . . . what do you normally do to relax?’
‘Honestly? Sit on the couch. WatchTV. Eat pizza.’
‘That’s it?’
‘That’s kind of my thing,’ I said.
He looked amused. ‘We’re on one of the most beautiful islands in the world and you want to sit on a couch and eat pizza?’
‘Yes.’
He looked at me for a beat, then smiled. ‘Okay then. Room service. Couch. Pizza. Done.’
I’d said it. I’d finally said it. And I knew she’d heard me, because I was sure she was about to say it back.
I felt it too. Even if she hadn’t got the words out, they were there, always there, hanging in the air.
She might not remember, but we had time. Because I was going to say it again, loudly, clearly, no drugs in our systems.
And this time, she’d say it back.
Properly.
And she would remember every single word.
CHAPTER 46
Thirty minutes later, and apparently we were hanging out, sitting on the couch, massive pizzas spread out in front of us. We’d called room service, and in our state of utter starvation – we hadn’t eaten breakfast or lunch due to our unconsciousness in the cupboard – we’d ordered far too much food and eaten it all far too fast. We’d had an argument over what to watch – he’d wanted a horror film and I’d wanted an action movie. Preferably about war, or something with a lot of explosions and fighting, since I hadn’t got to do any of that myself and I was still left with this odd feeling that I needed to blow something up or jump out of a tree onto someone’s head. But there was nothing to do. No wrestling, cuffing or chasing.
We finally settled onPredator, which we both agreed was a good combination of horror and action, with an alien thrown in for good measure. And although I’d seen it a million times before, I’d never watched it with someone sitting next to me. And strangely enough, someone who also seemed to like all my favourite parts.
I’d sat and watched movies with Byron before, but it had always felt . . . like an event. Like something I’d had to psych myself up to do. It didn’t feel like it came naturally, like this did. This wasn’t an event. This was just . . .just.
