I stare at him. ‘Are you out of your mind? It’s gone midnight.’
‘I’m up for it,’ says Pen.
‘Yeah, me too,’ adds Yan.
‘That means you need to come too, Nella,’ says Mark. ‘The dessert and drinks team need to talk strategy.’
Pen jumps up to go and change, leaving a hole in the defence between Mark and me. He immediately seizes it.
‘You’ve been avoiding the pool all day, and I know it’s my fault, so I want to help fix it.’
‘I’m not sure,’ I say.
‘Come on, if you leave it another night, you won’t be able to enjoy the party tomorrow. Five minutes – in and out – like ripping off a plaster. Yan agrees.’
‘I hadn’t noticed you were avoiding the pool, Nell,’ he says. ‘But if Mark’s right then let’s face the fear head-on.’
Mark smiles paternally. ‘Here’s some free advice for you all: Mark is always right.’
‘Exposure therapy,’ says Pen, who’s back in her costume and a towel. ‘My counsellor has tried it with me a couple of times. We go into the exam hall and just sit.’
‘I don’t know the fancy terms,’ says Yan. ‘But let’s not allow it to become a phobia.’
‘You used the exact same argument on Mum about driving,’ says Pen, smiling. ‘Annoying, isn’t it?’
‘Okay, okay,’ I relent. ‘I can’t believe you’re using the tools of my trade against me.’
My bikini is still damp. In my rush to change after Kiki arrived, I threw it in the sink instead of hanging it on the shower rail to dry. It’s cold and it clings in all the wrong places, so when join Pen by the pool, I’m fidgety as well as anxious.
She’s playing Katy Perry’s ‘Roar’ on her phone.
‘I’ve got a whole playlist of fighting songs,’ she explains. ‘Music really helps when I feel anxious.’
‘That’s a really good idea.’
Mark arrives silently on bare feet; I only notice him when he’s by my side.
‘Ready?’
His eyes linger on my neck – at the red mark he left, now unmistakably a hickie – then he descends into the water. He turns and offers me his hand. ‘Want to come?’
I know he’s playing on the double meaning, but I’m too nervous to be kittenish with him.
I stall. ‘How come you got in so easily?’
‘I don’t have the same traumatic memories – not conscious ones at least.’
‘The smell’s freaking me out.’
‘Breathe through your mouth,’ says Pen, coming to stand next to me.
‘Maybe start by sitting on the edge,’ says Mark. ‘Just dangle your legs in.’
He swims to the side and waits for me.
I walk over to where he is, gingerly sit on the edge of the pool and let my legs drop into the water. It’s surprisingly cool.
Mark’s up to his waist. ‘Now, all you need to do is stand.’
