As soon as I hear Ben’s voice a pulse goes down my spine.
‘How are we all?’ he asks.
A sensation warms my chest to hear his voice, to know he’s close. I turn very slowly to see him raising a hand to wave at me. Jess giggles and I narrow my eyes at her.
‘I’ve planned a surprise,’ he tells us. ‘Not a Miguel massage or a beach rave, it’s a bit simpler than that. I thought we all needed a moment to chill. Relax. Catch a breath.’ He seems a bit nervous. ‘Can I show you guys?’
We all stand up and follow him through the grounds to the gazebo next to the house that’s lined with fairy lights, rugs and bean-bag chairs. It’s surrounded by candles and a sheet has been pinned up with a projector in place. I smile when I see that he’s written a little sign that reads:VIP SECTION.
‘I thought we could watch a film out here. I’ll make some popcorn.’
We all take it in, this little magical corner he’s set up just for us, the way he looks for our approval.
Zara puts an arm around him. ‘This is good. This is very much needed.’
It’s about four o’clock now, the sun is lower in the sky. A whole day almost gone. I look up and see that everything is still blue and clear, the air still holds the glorious, earthy scent of pine. I can’t think of anything else I’d rather do. Zara and Jess goover to inspect the gazebo while I linger behind, looking over to where Ben stands, his hands in the pockets of his shorts, staring down at the grass.
‘Oh hi,’ he says as I walk over to him. ‘How are you? I heard someone had a good morning.’
I stand in shock that he’s going there.
‘At the almond farm, with the nut milk,’ he explains.
I laugh and he looks mildly relieved.
‘So, what do you think?’ he asks.
‘Of?’ I ask, looking around. ‘This is beautiful, really beautiful.’
‘I have to admit, I thought it would be a nice setting for something more low-key perhaps. So we can take things slowly.’
I turn to look at him. ‘Ben, you literally had your?—’
He puts his hand up so I can’t finish the sentence. But it doesn’t wipe the massive grin from his face. I’ll take it he enjoyed what happened. I did. I don’t know how to tell him this. I want to throw myself at him but I’m going to show restraint, rationality.
‘Well, I remember a lady once telling me she hadn’t seen a film in a while, so I thought I’d put on a screening tonight?—’
‘Of?’
‘Toy Story, right? To infinity and all that jazz?’
I laugh, grinning that he remembered that detail, that he’s used it to make me laugh, to create this whole romantic setup. I wonder why someone would do that and I have to remember how to breathe.
23
BEN
Magic. That’s what Flo said. I thought back to the times when this place felt like magic to me when I was little. And I remembered movie nights outside after long days by the pool. Uncle Lorenzo would give us all a giant bucket of popcorn with red Spanish liquorice sweets, drag all the furniture outside, projectThe Sound of Musiconto a sheet and tell us that he was going to turn us into a family singing act and he’d drive the tour bus. Unfortunately, that plan got shelved when he heard us sing. But I always remember how watching a film outside felt like the most luxurious experience, the way he’d borrow speakers from his DJ friend and have the sound booming around as we sank into the bean bags, counting stars in the night sky – that was a little bit of magic. It seemed like a calm, restorative way to end day three of this retreat.
And the inspiration seems to have worked. We’ve eaten a hearty dinneralfrescoand you can still smell the sweet garlic from the crispy chicken; the wine has flowed, a lot of it in Zara’s direction. Flo was right about the tart – it was, in Jess’s words, ‘healing parts of her soul’. Now we’re watchingToy Storywhichat first I thought they would find infantile but there’s something wonderful about being an adult and watching a cartoon sitting barefoot on a big cushion with a bowl of M&Ms. The women are all dressed up. Apparently, it would have been rude not to dress for the occasion given that they were VIPs. Chloe wears a strapless black mini dress, some gold dangly earrings. I’m strangely transfixed by her shoulders but I’ve been on my best behaviour; it’s been a good way to iron out the energy that overtook us before. Like having a date with chaperones.
I think back to this morning and the thought of her is intoxicating, the scent of her skin, the taste of her, the softness of her curves, and how we fit together, almost perfectly. I don’t want her to think she was a fling. That what we shared was a one-off moment of lust. I want to show her that I’m decent. I want to really get to know her. This evening, I’ve found out she’s a listener, someone who doesn’t react to anecdotes with her own, like she has to outdo other people. Her sense of humour is super dry, but there’s a way she raises Jess up; validates Zara’s feelings; and eats the chicken with her fingers, licking the salt and oil from them. I have no idea what she sees. I hope she likes it all. I hope I’m not a holiday fling. Sitting next to her now on the bean bags, occasionally she brushes against my fingers: the smallest of touches that lets me know she’s there. I like looking over to her sometimes and seeing her full-beam smile when Buzz says something ridiculous, or The Potato Heads have a fight, and the lights reflect on her skin. Like they did in that hut.
‘I’m getting to the drunk stage now where Woody is looking hot to me,’ Zara says, the wine taking full effect.
‘Babe, he’s super skinny. It’d be like shagging a rake,’ Jess says, roaring with laughter on her bean bag, a handful of freshly roasted almonds in her hand. ‘Plus, his jeans are super skinny. We know Woody ain’t packing.’
Chloe gives a throaty laugh, turning to look at me.
