Short Stack - Lily Morton Page 0,99
other and the burgeoning attraction between them.
Gideon
I sit at a table in one of the restaurants onboard the ship and stare down at the pile of mangled fabric in front of me.
“What is that?” Eli asks, leaning close and gifting me with the scent of coconut.
“That is a swan,” I say haughtily.
“Oh, dear. Did it have an accident?”
I shake my head, trying not to let him see me smile. “Fuck off. I suppose yours is so much better.” I look over at his napkin and sink in my chair. “Oh my God, you’re a ringer. You’ve done this before.”
He smirks. “Nope. Never done it before.” He nudges me. “But I’m very good with my hands.”
“So am I,” I say gloomily. “But they don’t have the classes on this ship that will help prove my point.”
He laughs far too loudly, and an old lady promptly turns around and glares at us. Eli offers her his wide, charming smile, and she immediately melts before shooting a spiteful look at me.
“This is like an alternate universe,” I mutter. “I’m normally very popular.”
“Is it in a universe where the occupants are deaf and blind?”
He’s the cheekiest sod I’ve ever met. If he were anyone else, I’d have levelled him with a horrible remark by now. Instead, I can’t help the snort of laughter and nudge him so hard that he nearly falls off his chair. The lady teaching the napkin-arranging class looks over at us.
Eli stands. “I’m so sorry,” he says apologetically. “We’re going to go back to our suite because my patient isn’t feeling well.” I immediately try to conceal my smile of delight with a sickly expression. However, Eli leans forward and whispers, “Look ill.”
“I am,” I say crossly. “Can’t you tell?”
He stares at me. “Is that your ill look? I thought you were constipated.”
I shake my head. “You’re a terrible nurse. I must have been very evil in a former life.”
“I’m not so sure it was a former one,” he mutters.
I laugh before hastily turning it into a cough. We walk slowly back to the suite, and I pause hopefully outside the bar.
“No,” he says briskly. “No chance.”
I sag slightly. “But I’m tired. I need to rest.”
“You need to rest your jaw,” he mutters.
I laugh out loud before I can help myself. “You have the worst bedside manner I have ever encountered.”
“I don’t think that means quite the same thing in your world,” he says primly.
He steers me outside onto the deck. We’re at sea today, and a brisk breeze blows our hair, mitigating the heat of the Italian summer sun. He walks along the deck to the tables and chairs placed by the railing. We sink into them, and a waiter arrives promptly to take our drink orders. Eli places the order before I can open my mouth.
“Lemonade,” I say disgustedly as the waiter leaves. “I’m not a five-year-old child.”
“You have the lung capacity of one,” he says happily. “And probably the drinking ability of one now after being teetotal for a week and a half.”
“Fuck,” I say despairingly. “I’ve been working on that since I was sixteen.”
“It’s a tragedy,” he says cheerfully. “All of that hard work just gone in a flash of bad behaviour.”
I laugh and look out to sea, which is sparkling like the waves have captured sunbeams inside them.
The waiter arrives with our drinks, and I take a sip of mine. It’s homemade and is tart and refreshing and all the more irritating for that. I shake my head and put the drink down before looking at Eli. He’s staring contentedly out to sea with a smile playing on his full lips.
“You’ve travelled a lot, haven’t you?” I say impulsively.
He looks startled. “I have,” he says slowly. “With the Red Cross at first and the nursing jobs now.”
“What was your favourite place?” I ask, surprising myself. I’m generally not interested in people, but I am in him for some reason. Maybe it’s because he doesn’t push himself on me. I mentally shrug. Who knows?
“I think Rome.” He turns to me. “Have you ever been?”
“I have. We filmed there for a couple of months.”
His face fills with enthusiasm. “What did you think?”
“I liked it. Did you go to the Trevi Fountain? It’s practically a requirement since Three Coins in the Fountain.”
He smiles at me. “You reference a lot of old films.”
“I do?” I ask, startled. I consider it. “I suppose I do. I’ve always loved the glamour of old Hollywood.” And the way they were so good