‘I like that, but as part of your villain edit, how about you decide you don’t like me?’ he asks. ‘I don’t have a problem being away with you, but you find me messy, disorganised, and can’t put up with it.’
‘Yes, the thought of living with you is like a nightmare.’
Sam taps the table. ‘Sorted.’
‘Sorry to break up with you like this.’
‘All in due time,’ Sam says. ‘We have to play it longer first.’
He’s enjoying this too much, and it’s infectious. He’s got me giggling as he gets up to water the plants.
‘Hope you’ve packed your swimwear,’ Sam says, as he carefully waters a snake plant.
‘I can get it.’
‘Great. Mum will be here in no time, and then we’ll go.’
It’s not until I’ve gone back to the hotel that I realise the only swimwear I’ve got is the type I intended to use to impress a man. A bold red Speedo trunk, tight and revealing.
A good idea at the time. Something to remind Ollie of what he’s been missing.
After today’s boat trip, I think Sam is going to know me a lot better.
Chapter Twenty-Four
WILL
Day Three
Jolly Roger sails flap in a light breeze, and seagulls circle the black boat, glaring down as we navigate the wooden plank on board. Beneath us fish dart, as if waiting for us to fall in, succumbing to their blood-drawing bites. There’s a cannon poking out of one of the portholes, braced for battle. ‘What have you led us to?’ I whisper to Sam, my hands clutching the rails as we cross the patch of shallow Aegean Ocean.
‘Ahoy, welcome aboard, me hearties.’ A Greek man dressed as a rip-off Jack Sparrow, with faux tangled black hair tumbling over his shoulders, greets us. He wears a fake wooden leg at his knee, the rest of his leg jutting out behind him. His clothes are baggy and loose, catching in the breeze.
‘Aye, who do we have ’ere, then?’ The pirate’s friend, a man in similar breeches, appears. He flips his eyepatch up to reveal a prosthetic missing eye. Fake blood congeals at the corners. At least I hope it’s all prosthetics, because looking at it makes me want to throw my Pikachu latte back up on deck. ‘Lads. Lads! Gangway, me hearties, the lads have arrived.’
I’ve never been called a lad in my life. But when in Greece…
‘I can’t believe this was our only option,’ I whisper to Sam.
‘I’ll put it in my write-up. “Must book in advance.”’
‘Ye come on a good day,’ the first pirate says, escorting us to a wooden table that wouldn’t look out of place in the Krusty Krab restaurant. ‘Eye of the wind is good, methinks. Our lookout has his eye on the sea. He would have another, but a seadog gouged it out.’
‘Aye, but we must sail,’ the other pirate says, his eyepatch thankfully back in place. ‘Lest ye sirens find us.’
Both pirates make their way to the ship’s bow with artistic flair while still yelling. The other group of people watch with transfixed expressions.
We leave the dock, the pirates cheering, water chopping, trepidation gripping me as if we were about to embark on a perilous sea adventure.
‘Do ye possess the chart?’ one pirate asks an unsuspecting boat traveller who looks like they’d rather be anywhere but here. Her eyes scan the ship, hoping someone will save her, but everyone averts their eyes for fear of being picked on.
‘I … do?’
‘Ye do?’ the pirate asks. ‘Hey, did ye ’ear that? This lass has a chart!’
‘Procure it, lass,’ the other pirate hisses. ‘Lest ye feel the wrath of the siren.’
‘I…’
