‘Felix!’ The girl from earlier appeared from behind and pushed him playfully. He turned and enveloped her in a sweaty hug, and I was surprised at how much I wanted them to separate. They were laughing and she was twisting her hair in her fingers. The worst part? She was even more gorgeousclose up. And in a totally European way, which made it almost unbearable. Shiny brown hair pulled into the perfect messy bun, strands framing her heart-shaped face and from what I could see, barely any make-up. Her long, tanned legs escaped from tiny denim shorts, with delicate sockless ankles above trainers.
I obviously wasn’t being very subtle because suddenly both of them were looking at me.
‘Margot, this is Delphine. Delphine, this is Margot. She is from Ireland. Northern Ireland,’ he corrected himself and I gave an awkward wave in Delphine’s direction. She was looking me up and down, eyes settling on my AC/DC T-shirt.
She put her hand over her mouth and whispered something to Felix, who said something back to her in French.
‘Salut,’ I said awkwardly.
Delphine shrugged and walked off.
‘Sorry about that,’ said Felix, still half dressed. ‘She is always like this at the beginning of tourist season. When the foreign girls come.’ He rolled his eyes and pulled down the rest of the lion costume.
‘Ah, OK,’ I said, trying to take the disappointment from my voice. I was one of a million foreign girls – of course I was. And he was … I lost my train of thought as I glanced down. At the boxer shorts that left nothing to the imagination, at the Calvin Klein waistband and the dark hair of his thighs.
Then he pulled on jeans and a T-shirt as he continued. ‘Delphine. She has a problem with, how do you say it …jalousie?’
‘Jealousy?’
‘That’s it.’
‘But what has she got to be jealous of?’ I asked. Felix was now wiping sweat off himself with a towel. ‘She is so beautiful.’
‘Maybe she doesn’t like me talking about you,’ he said, shrugging.
‘You were talking about me?’ I asked, moving closer so I didn’t have to shout over the music.
‘Maybe. Just a bit.’ He winked at me again, and I smiled, pathetically.
‘Margot, there you are!’
I turned to see Dad staring at me, looking painfully serious.
‘I was worried about you,’ he said.
I felt my face flush with shame. I looked at Felix, who was tidying away glasses now.
‘Dad, I’m eighteen.’ I tried to laugh it off, but Dad wasn’t laughing.
‘Yes, Margot, I know that, but I’d still like to know where you are.’
‘I’ll be back soon,’ I said.
‘I’ll wait up,’ Dad said, before turning and walking away, leaving me standing there, humiliated, with Felix.
‘So embarrassing,’ I said, wishing he hadn’t heard any of that.
‘Your father? He just wants to keep you safe,’ Felix said simply, as if it was completely reasonable.
‘He thinks because I’m here he can treat me like a kid. It’s so stupid.’
Felix shrugged. ‘It is nice, I think. Do you want me to walk you back?’ he offered. And it felt good. Different. But I wanted some time to think, even though I knew exactly where my thoughts would land.
I shook my head. ‘I’ll be OK by myself thanks.’
‘I will see you tomorrow then?’ He raised his eyebrows hopefully.
‘Peut-être,’ I said with a smile that he returned.
