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“Exactly!” She points at me. “No offense, babe, but I think if I choose your next boy-toy then you’ll be thanking me for all of eternity.”
“Got it. And I’ll pretend you didn’t just use the termboy-toy.”
“Younger guys go longer, and harder,” she sing-songs. “No strings attached.”
“You know that’s a myth, don’t you? What about older guys that have more experience, and actually know where your G-spot is.”
“Good point,” she concedes. “It isn’t that fucking hard. They should teach it in sex education. Imagine the awkwardness it would save down the track, as well as the time factor.”
“I don’t think guys in high school are too focused on getting a woman off first, more like just getting off as quick as possible,”
Charlize grimaces. “Urgh. Do not remind me. I wish I could erase high school from my memory permanently.”
God, let’s not go there.
“Where is the coffee?” Imogen yawns, stepping out onto the patio.
I hand her Charlize’s, now cold, coffee up. “Knock yourself out.”
She winces as she gulps the last mouthful. “God. I need food.”
“I see you don’t seem to be fairing any better than little-miss-ray-of-sunshine over here,” Charlize says, jabbing her pointer at me. “The pair of you are lightweights, honestly! I’ll have to rethink my bridesmaid selection if this is how you two roll.”
“Right, like you’re ever getting married,” Imogen snorts, plonking down next to me. “I think you’re pretty safe. We put up with your weird accent and that shit you call food that nobody in their right minds should eat, like ever.”
“Don’t even go there with vegemite, my friend.” Charlize pretends to be insulted. “And Tim Tams and pineapple on a pizza are a delicacy where I’m from.”
Tim Tams are an Australian cookie that Charlize never stops going on about.
“There’s no excuse for her,” I say to Imogen. “I don’t know why we keep her around.”
“Because she’s cute as a button.” Imogen tries to pinch her nose, but Charlize pulls back and swats her hand away. “And she might know the Hemsworth brothers.”
“Don’t touch what you can’t afford. And those boys are mine, all of them.”
“If you two don’t shut up, we’re not going to get any pancakes,” I say, feeling my stomach growl.
Charlize, as if remembering we’re on a strict regime, jolts up out of the chair like her ass is on fire. “I’m so freaking hungry. Kudos for including brekky in your package, Ari. It’s the best meal of the day, especially when it’s free.”
“Don’t thank me, thank my credit card,” I call after her as she drapes a kaftan over her body and flips us the bird. “Last one to the buffet buys the cocktails tonight!”
So much for my relaxing vacation.
The buffet is freaking amazing. I’ve never seen so much food in my entire life.
There is literally everything you could ever want.
I’m not usually one to pile my plate full, but since I didn’t eat much last night, and in my current hungover state, I go all out. And the coffee is to die for.
I think I’ve died and gone to foodie heaven.
“They won’t mind if we just hang out here all day, right?” I say, “Because seriously, I could get used to this.”
The girls nod in agreement, both having full mouths as we sit in air-conditioned comfort with a view of the family pool and the swim-up cocktail bar.
This place is truly magnificent; it was worth every penny.
“I am totally coming here for my honeymoon,” Charlize agrees.
