19. Nineteen

When I go down to breakfast the next morning I find that Chloe’s been seated at a large table beside Rita and Gerald, who looks like he can’t believe his luck.

“Look at us, all the singletons together,” says Rita, when I stop to say good morning. “Gerald’s just been telling us all about how he went out clubbing with you young ‘uns last night. You should have said, Summer. I’d have come along too.”

“Oh, it were too wild a night for you, Rita,” says Gerald, speaking as though he partied all night, rather than leaving at 9:30 p.m. on the dot, after I’d had to nudge him awake twice. “You’d never have been able to keep up. And anyway, I was there to look after ‘er on behalf of the Crone Crew. She was in safe hands.”

Rita looks like she’s about to dispute this, but thankfully thinks better of it.

“I can’t believe they’ve put me with the old folks,” Chloe hisses, getting up and following me to my table on the patio. “They said there weren’t any other seats left. Can you believe it? Can’t I just sit with you, Summer? Oh. Hello there, handsome!”

The sulky look leaves her face instantly as she catches sight of Alex, who’s here before me, as usual.

“I forgot you were sharing a table with him,” she says to me in a stage whisper. “You lucky thing, Summer.”

“I’m not—” I start to say, but Chloe’s already at the table, where she takes the seat that should be mine, leaving me standing there stupidly next to her like an olden days lady’s maid, waiting on her ladyship’s instruction.

“You don’t mind if I join you, do you?” she purrs at Alex. “Stop hovering over us, Summer,” she snaps, turning to me. “Go and find yourself a seat and bring it over.”

I can’t see any option other than to do what she says, but then Alex clears his throat ominously.

“She already has a seat,” he says in a ‘don’t mess with her’ tone that’s oddly thrilling, especially in the context of his drunken flirtation of last night, which I still can’t stop thinking about. “You’re sitting in it.”

Chloe stares at him, startled. “Alright,” she says huffily, getting to her feet. “Keep your hair on. I’ll be back in a mo’.”

She turns and crosses the terrace to her original table, where she makes a beeline for her empty seat and starts dragging it noisily towards us. From the dramatic way she’s doing it, you’d think she’d been sent to work down the mine, rather than just move a lightweight seat from one spot to another.

“Thanks,” I tell Alex, sitting down. “For sticking up for me.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he replies. “I know you’re more than capable of doing it yourself, but I didn’t want you to start throwing plates again.”

I smile at him shyly as I reach for the coffee pot. I still feel weird around him after last night. It’s strange to be actively not hating him any more. I’d gotten used to our constant sparring contests, and now that we appear to have called a ceasefire, I’m not totally sure how to act around him.

“Anyway,” he says briskly, “We can’t stay here too long, anyway. The quad biking thing starts at ten. I checked.”

“What’s that?” says Chloe, rejoining us. “Quad biking? You’re not going quad biking, are you?”

She pulls her seat up to the table, which is much too small for the three of us: not that she seems to notice.

“We are,” I tell her, hoping she’s not going to try to muscle in on that, too, but knowing she will.

“Oh, brilliant,” she says, proving me correct. “I’ve always fancied trying that. Ooh, I know! Let’s ask Jamie if he wants to come, too!”

“Er, no, let’s not,” I say hurriedly, as she takes her phone out of her back and pulls up the message app. “I think he said he was working this morning. He probably won’t be able to make it.”

“No, he didn’t,” replies Chloe, tapping something into the phone. “And even if he is supposed to be working, he’s the boss, isn’t he? I’m sure he can spare a few hours for two of his oldest friends.”

I open and close my mouth like a confused goldfish, trying to work out what to say to stop her messaging Jamie, who I still can’t think about without remembering the awkward silence that descended last night when Chloe told him I’d come here to see him.

I’m not ready to try to explain that to him yet.

I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready for that particular conversation.

Chloe looks up at me and frowns.

“What’s wrong, Summer?” she says. “You look like a puffer fish with your face like that. You do want to see Jamie again, don’t you?”

Alex raises his eyebrows questioningly at this, as if he’d like to know the answer, too.

“Of… of course I do,” I say feebly. “You don’t mind, Alex, do you?”

“Not at all,” he replies smoothly. “I’d be very interested to meet the famous Jamie, actually. Very interested.”

His voice is loaded with meaning. It’s just a shame that I have no idea what the meaning actually is.

Chloe’s phone pings loudly.

“Well, luckily for both of you,” she says triumphantly, “You’re going to get your wish. Jamie says he’d love to come.”

I nod weakly.

“Great,” I say, feigning enthusiasm.

“Great,” repeats Alex, not bothering to feign anything. I get the feeling that feigning things isn’t part of his DNA somehow. “Fantastic,” says Chloe, grinning broadly. “This is going to be just fantastic.”

***

The quad biking place is in the hills above the resort, where there’s a low, single-story building, with a row of brightly colored bikes lined up in front of it. They don’t look anything like motorcycles. I suspect my younger self would be disappointed.

Chloe, Alex, and I get out of the taxi and look around us, taking in the dusty, sun-baked ground, and the lush hills which surround it. Right in front of us there’s a small arena marked out with traffic cones, and just past that, I see a rough track leading off into the hills.

“Is this a bad time to admit I’m not a particularly great driver?” I mutter to Alex as we make our way towards the bikes.

“Why does that not surprise me?” he replies wryly.

I allow myself to relax slightly at the hint of sarcasm in his tone, which is reassuring in its familiarity.

Sarky Alex I can deal with. Nice Alex… well, nice Alex is still an unknown quantity. And something tells me he could be a dangerous one for someone like me, who’s particularly vulnerable to the idea of someone — anyone — being nice to her.

“Chloe! Summer!”

As we reach the building that serves as the office for the quad biking company, I see Jamie come out of the door, his hand raised in welcome. My stomach lurches again. I’ve been so busy thinking about Alex that I’d almost forgotten I’d be seeing Jamie again. But here he is, looking a bit rumpled, as if he might have slept in his clothes.

I wave back, determinedly telling myself I’m excited to see him again, even though my heart is doing its best to tell me otherwise.

Jamie hugs Chloe, then me, before holding his hand out to Alex.

“Hey,” he says easily. “I’m Jamie. You must be Summer’s friend?”

“Alex,” says the man in question shortly. “And no, not really. We just keep bumping into each other.”

He doesn’t smile as he shakes Jamie’s hand.

I guess Moody Alex is back, then. And he’s a Moody Alex who obviously didn’t pick up on the same vibes I did during our conversation on the balcony last night, if his last comment is anything to go by.

“Right. Okay,” says Jamie, looking confused by the frosty reception. I’m about to tell him not to worry, because Alex is always like that, when the man in charge of the bikes beckons us all forward and starts explaining that we’ll all have to do a brief trial run to get used to the bikes before we set off. We all gather in a circle to watch his demonstration, me positioning myself as far away from both Alex and Jamie as I can manage without it looking weird.

“I can’t believe you, of all people, have got yourself involved in a love triangle,” whispers Chloe, who likes to speak in tabloid headlines whenever she gets the opportunity. “I guess it’s true what they say about it being the quiet ones you have to watch, eh?’

“It’s not a love triangle,” I whisper back, keeping one eye on the instructor. “You heard what Alex said; he doesn’t even think of himself as a friend, let alone one corner of a love triangle.”

Chloe looks at me skeptically, but is prevented from commenting on this by the roar of an engine, as the first member of the group begins his trial. We watch as he steers his bike around the little arena, weaving in and out of the traffic cones, before heading back to the instructor, who gives him a thumbs up, before beckoning the next person forward.

“It looks fairly easy,” I whisper to Chloe, trying to sound more confident than I feel. “Look, even that kid is doing it.”

The child in question passes the short driving test with flying colors: as does Alex, who doesn’t look like he’s ever failed at anything, and then Jamie, who revs the engine on his bike, showing off as he takes a corner much too fast. Chloe whoops with excitement. I can’t see Alex’s expression underneath the safety helmet he’s wearing, but judging by the tense set of his shoulders, he’s not impressed.

Then it’s my turn.

I get cautiously onto the quad bike, and dutifully put on the helmet the instructor hands me, which makes me look like a giant lollipop.

Thirteen-year-old me really didn’t think this through when she put ‘ride a motorcycle’ on her list of resolutions, did she?

I glance over at Chloe, who smirks back at me, as if she’s not going to have to wear an identical one.

“Okay,” says the instructor in heavily accented English. “All you have to do is drive once around the circle. You make the circle, then you come back. Sí?”

“Sí,” I agree, still thinking it doesn’t look too hard. It’s just a bike, after all. Even I can ride a bike. This can’t be that different.

Can it?

The instructor steps back, and I put my foot down on the accelerator pedal, painfully aware of everyone watching me. The bike roars to life, then suddenly shoots forward, crashing into the first of the traffic cones, then taking out the rest of them. They fall like a row of bright orange skittles, only with the kind of sickening crunching noise that suggests I’ll be paying for more than just the day out by the end of this.

Somewhere behind me, I hear Chloe laughing delightedly.

“Oh my God, Summer!” she shrieks. “What are you trying to do?”

My cheeks flaming under the huge helmet, I somehow manage to wrench the handlebars around until the bike is facing in the right direction again, determined to try to get myself back on course.

The bike, however, has other ideas; and as soon as I try to move forward again, it turns to the right instead. Somehow, the handlebars seem to be locked in that position, and the bike starts turning in tight circles, me clinging on helplessly as the faces of the other riders flash by, becoming more blurred with each second that goes by.

“No!” yells the instructor, running towards me. “No! Stop!”

I somehow manage to brake, and sit there queasily, desperately trying to keep my breakfast down as I wait for the man to reach me.

“You have no control,” he blurts, red faced. “None. You need to get off. Now.”

I swallow nervously.

“Wh-what?”

“You cannot ride alone,” the man says sternly. “You will need a partner.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” chuckles Chloe from the sidelines.

“She can come on the back of my bike,” offers Jamie, who’s sitting next to Alex as they wait for everyone else to go through their ‘training’ — if it can be called that.

“Great,” says Chloe. “I’ll go with Alex, then.”

“What?” I say, irrationally horrified by this idea. “Why would you do that? You can ride your own quad bike, surely? It’s just me who’s not allowed.”

“Don’t be silly, Summer,” Chloe snaps. “If you couldn’t do it, I’ve got no chance, have I? Look at me. I’m tiny. And I want a partner, too.”

She pouts appealingly, and I glare back at her, wondering how I can stop her ‘partner’ being Alex. Because I know it makes no sense at all, but it’s suddenly of the utmost importance to me that this not happen, even if it means I have to insist on ‘partnering’ her myself, and to hell with the ‘no control’ thing.

Luckily for me, though, the group leader, tired of waiting for us all, comes storming over to take charge.

“You: go with him,” he says, pointing from me to Alex. “And you, over there.”

He sends Chloe off in Jamie’s direction, and I clamber onto the back of Alex’s bike, grabbing frantically onto his shirt when the vehicle suddenly jerks forward, almost sending me toppling back off.

“Can you not do that?” Alex says in a choked sounding voice. “You’re kind of strangling me, here.”

Sure enough, the pressure of me hanging off the back of his t-shirt is making the neckline cut into his windpipe, so I let it go and leave my arms dangling uselessly by my sides, not knowing what else to do with them.

“Summer, for God’s sake, hold on to something,” Alex yells over his shoulder. “You’re going to fall off if you try to balance like that.”

Up ahead, Chloe has her arms wrapped tightly around Jamie’s body, like a baby koala on its mum’s back. The idea of cuddling up to Alex like that feels like another thing that might end up being dangerous for me — which leaves me in a bit of an awkward position. Literally, I mean.

“There’s nothing to hold on to,” I shout back, looking desperately at the few bits of the bike I can see. “Maybe you should just stop and let me get off? My younger self was wrong; I really don’t think this is going to make me look cool, somehow.”

Alex hits the brake, and the bike stops abruptly, almost sending me flying over the top of it.

“Oh. Right. Thanks.”

I know I asked him to stop, but I didn’t really expect him to do it, and I can’t help but feel disappointed as I prepare to dismount.

“Hey. Not so fast.”

Alex twists around in his seat and holds a hand up to stop me getting off the bike.

“Come here, stupid,” he says.

Then he takes my hands in his and wraps my arms firmly around his waist before turning back to face the road.

“Ready?” he says, his voice muffled by the roar of the engine.

I have never been less ready for anything in my life. But as the rest of the group speed off ahead of us, Chloe clinging to Jamie’s back like a beautiful, blonde-haired limpet, I don’t feel like now is the time to admit that.

“Ready,” I reply confidently.

And we’re off.