‘You’ve probably got a burn,’ I inform him. ‘Go and get those trousers off, I have some antiseptic cream in my cabin. I’ll bring it over in a sec.’
He agrees and we go our separate ways, though I’m far slower as I’m still determined to hold on to my soup. It’s deadly but delicious.
Five minutes later and I’m knocking at his door with a tub of Sudocrem and a half-eaten sandwich. He yells at me to come inside. His cabin is identical to mine, though it’s already showing signs of disrepair, commonly known as ‘lived in by boy’. Clothes are strewn around, empty mugs lie unwashed and it smells like testosterone mixed with feet.
‘You should open some windows in here,’ I mutter, not loud enough for him to hear but loud enough to appease my burning desire to say it out loud. I hear him walk from the bedroom.
‘Any damage?’ I ask. ‘Your jeans might have— WOW, OK. You’re in your underwear. Good. Right then.’
My neck nearly breaks as I whip my head around to face any other direction than Will’s pants. His Prodigy T-shirt covers the main parts but I’m still very aware of what lurks beneath.
‘Oh, for God’s sake, you’d see more at the beach,’ he mocks, pulling out a chair at the kitchen table. ‘It’s really freaking sore actually. You got that cream?’
Still not looking, I pass him the white tub.
‘Why do you carry around nappy rash cream?’ he asks. ‘Do you chafe easily?’
‘It’s good for blemishes,’ I reply, watching some birds land on his decking. ‘And other stuff… listen, just rub it on.’
‘They’re only pants, Nora. Can you at least take a look at the burn? I might need to put a dressing over it or something.’
I purse my lips and turn around, pulling out the chair beside him where he’s rolled up the bottom of his underwear to reveal a red mark at the top of his thigh. Hardly the third-degree trauma I was expecting, and his junk is still covered. I give a little sigh of relief.
‘I think you’ll survive,’ I tell him, looking away as he applies the cream. ‘I like your T-shirt by the way; I saw The Prodigy years ago – ’97 or ’98 maybe? On Glasgow Green.’
‘The Event in the Tent?’ he asks. ‘I was there! I still lived in Edinburgh at the time.’
‘Really?’ I reply. ‘That’s so funny. We could have been standing side by side and never have known! How is it feeling?’
As I turn, my gaze inadvertently moves slightly to the left, landing upon the outline of his penis and I quietly gasp. My head whips back at record speed. That can’t be real?
‘Thanks for helping,’ he says, clicking the lid back on the tub. ‘It’s like payback for the hot—’
‘No problem! Fine! It’s fine! See you for yoga,’ I blurt out, grabbing the cream from his hand. I need to leave. I was bad enough with his torso, I cannot have THIS in my head too. Nope. Nooo. No way.
‘Um… OK. I mean, if you hang on two mins, we can—’
Discuss the size of your penis?
‘I need to make a phone call,’ I reply, tripping over the chair leg as I head for the hills. ‘Smell you later!’
Smell you later?For goodness’ sake.
I rush back to my cabin, slamming the door behind me. Throwing down the cream, I lift my soup which I left to cool while I was busy trying not to look at Will’s knob. I feel like such a creep. He’s trusting me to help with a painful burn and I’m allPENIS! YOU HAVE A PENIS! What are you? Twelve? Get a grip, Nora.
Spooning some vegetables into my mouth, I grab my phone and dial the café.
‘Café 12, Victoria speaking.’
‘I’m losing it here, Victoria.’
‘Nora? Nora, we’re kind of busy. What’s wrong?’
‘This place has turned me into a pervert, that’s what’s wrong. I saw a penis and—’
‘Whose penis?’
‘Well, it was still inside his boxers, but I saw the outline. And his chest is wide. Andthenthere’s the American mentor who is just, ugghhh, and—’
