Home > Love Your Life(9)

Love Your Life(9)
Author: Sophie Kinsella

I follow him down a stony path to a little rocky cove with a pebbly beach and the clearest aquamarine water I’ve ever seen. There aren’t any sun beds or beach bars; it’s not that kind of place. The beachgoers are mostly older Italian women, sitting on towels with scarves protecting their hair, and clutches of shouting teenagers.

On either side of the cove are rocky cliffs, and there are teenagers at every level, climbing, sunbathing, smoking, and drinking beer. As I scan the scene, a girl in a red bikini hurls herself off a rocky outcrop, screeching and fist-pumping the air before plummeting into the sea. A moment later, she’s followed by a teenage boy, who jumps with flailing legs and lands with a massive splash.

They skirmish in the water for a moment, then he holds her bikini top up out of the water with a triumphant yell, while the girl laughs hysterically. His audience of teenagers on the rocks bursts into cheers, and Dutch gives me a wary glance.

“It wasn’t quite this wild yesterday,” he says. “We could find somewhere quieter.”

“No, I like it.” I smile at him. “It feels…you know. Real. Wow,” I add, watching another girl leaping off the rocky ledge. “That’s high.”

“It’s fun.”

“You did that?”

“Of course.” He laughs at my expression. “I mean, it’s safe. Water’s deep. You want to have a go?”

“Er…sure!” I say, before I can think whether this is a good idea or not. “Why not?”

We find an empty patch on the pebbly beach and I take off my caftan, sucking in my stomach as I do so. Although I’m careful not to look in his direction, I can sense Dutch checking me out in my swimsuit. It’s black and low cut and I know it’s a sexy number because Russell used to call it Instant—

No. I stop my own thoughts abruptly. I’m not thinking about Russell. Why would I recall an obnoxious ex-boyfriend at this moment?

I fold up my caftan, demurely looking away from Dutch as he strips off but also managing to sneak some glances at him. He’s in navy swim shorts and clearly visits the gym. His thighs are muscled, and he has a hairy chest. I like a hairy chest.

I feel a trickle of sweat on my forehead and wipe it away. It’s even more baking down here than it was on the cliff, and the splashing of the waves is unbelievably inviting.

“It’s hot,” I say, and Dutch nods.

“We should get in the water. You want to…?” He gestures at the rock-jumpers, and my stomach flickers with nerves. I’d be quite happy paddling. But I’m not admitting that, so I say, “Of course!” and Dutch grins.

“Cool. This way.”

He leads me to a tortuous path, looping back and forth up the side of the cliff. We clamber up craggy rocks, past caves, pausing once or twice to let rowdy groups of teenagers rush past us. As we finally emerge at the rocky ledge and look down at the white-flecked water below, I feel elation and terror, all at once.

“Ready?” Dutch gestures at the edge, and I laugh nervously.

There’s a guy of about twenty standing behind us, not hiding his impatience, and I step aside. We both watch as he takes a good run-up, leaps off the cliff, and plummets into the blueness below.

“Long way down,” I say, trying to sound conversational rather than petrified.

“That’s what makes it fun,” says Dutch with enthusiasm.

“Definitely!” I nod several times, then add casually, “I mean, there’s a line between ‘fun’ and ‘terrifying.’ ”

Dutch laughs. “Yup.” Then his expression suddenly changes to one of concern. “Wait. Are we over that line for you? Sorry. I dragged you up here. I don’t know where your limits are.”

I can sense him suddenly thinking, I don’t know this person at all; why am I encouraging her to jump off a cliff?

“You want to go down a level?” he adds, standing aside to let a group of three teenagers jump off. “We can do that.”

For an instant I’m tempted. But then I recall what he said the other day: “Sometimes it’s good to step outside your comfort zone.”

“I don’t know,” I say, staring at the glittering sea, feeling a stab of frustration at myself. “I don’t not want to do it. I think I’m finding out where my limits are.”

“OK,” says Dutch cautiously. “Well, where are you right now?”

“I want to do it,” I say, trying to convince myself as much as him. “It’s just…how many feet is that?”

“Don’t get hung up on those kinds of thoughts,” says Dutch reassuringly. “Just think about the excitement. The rush.”

“Uh-huh.” I nod. His words are helping. Although I’m still not moving toward the edge.

“I saw two little kids in a playground once,” Dutch continues. “One was psyching himself up to go on the monkey bars and his friend was trying to help him. He said, ‘You learn by scaredness.’ I’ve never forgotten it.”

“You learn by scaredness,” I repeat slowly. “I like that. So what do you learn, jumping into the sea?”

“You learn you can do it.” He smiles at me, a broad, infectious smile. “Shall we do it together?”

“OK.” I nod. “Come on. Let’s do this.”

I may die, I think calmly as we step forward. This is possible. On the plus side, it’s a good way to go. Girl perishes jumping into sea with handsome guy. That would do.

Dutch takes my hand, and I want to say, “No, I’ve changed my mind!” but somehow my mouth doesn’t move. I’m not really going to do this, I think crazily, as his grip on mine tightens. Surely. I’m not going to…

“One, two, three…”

And we’re over.

As I fall, the air is sucked from my body. I don’t know what to feel. I can’t feel. My brain has been emptied. Gravity is the only force in my life right now. I look over at Dutch’s smiling, encouraging face, feel him squeeze my hand briefly, then let go, as we land in the sea.

The water crashes against my body with more force than I predicted. My legs have been flung akimbo and I’m descending through the cold sea, unable to stop. Down…still down. I need to float up. Why aren’t I floating up? My lung capacity is too small for this….I am going to die, I knew it….Wait, I’m rising again….

And then suddenly I’ve surfaced, spluttering and gasping and spitting out salty water. There’s hair all over my face and my swimsuit is wedged halfway up my bum and my heart is nearly exploding with triumph. My chest is pumping, my blood feels on fire, my mouth won’t stop grinning….That was awesome!

Dutch is about ten feet away, already swimming toward me with an exultant expression.

“You did it!” He high-fives me and I whoop. “It’s amazing, isn’t it?”

“Yes! Incredible!”

Nearby, another teenage boy crashes into the sea, and the wash of waves surges toward us. It’s quite hard work, treading water like this. Not that I’ll admit it, because I like to think I’m pretty fit.

“I have an admission,” I say, above the sound of splashing and cheering. “I was shit scared.”

“You’re kidding,” says Dutch teasingly.

“I thought I hid it,” I say mock-indignantly, and he laughs.

“No chance. Are you OK?” he adds, as a wave catches me in the face.

“Fine,” I say spluttering a little. “Thanks.”

Another swell pushes us together, and suddenly our chests are meeting. Underwater, my legs are bumping against his with the ebb and flow of the waves. Instinctively, Dutch grabs my waist—then at once lets go, looking alarmed, and says, “Sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

“No.”

“That wasn’t—” He cuts himself off.

“No,” I say, a little breathless. “I know.”

“Not that I don’t—” He stops himself again, and something unreadable flickers across his face.

For a moment we stare at each other, breathing hard, hair plastered to our heads, arms moving automatically and rhythmically through the water.

“So,” says Dutch at last, as though changing the subject. “Want to have another go?”

“Sure!” I say, although I can’t concentrate properly, because, was that…? Did we nearly…?

He swims away, toward a metal ladder set into the rock, and I follow, my mind churning. I clamber up the ladder, and then we both start climbing back up the path to the ledge. It’s a narrow track, and as we round the cramped corners, his wet skin brushes against mine. One minute we’re in the shade; the next, the sunshine is beating ferociously down on us. Neither of us speaks, although we’re both breathing heavily. Is that because of the heat or the climb or because…?

Oh God. I can’t stand this. I need to nudge things along. As we emerge onto a broad, sunlit stretch of rock, I come to a halt. Dutch turns and pauses questioningly, his eyes crinkled up against the sun. My heart is hammering, but what the hell? I jumped into the sea; I can do this.

“I’m allowed one personal question, right?” I say bluntly.

“Oh.” He seems taken aback. “Now?”

“Yes, now.”

“Fine. Shoot. What do you want to know?”

“OK. Just now, in the sea, it felt like—” I break off. “It felt like we might— But—” Again, I stop myself. “Anyway. That’s my question.”

Dutch looks baffled.

“What’s your question, exactly?” he says after a moment. “Nothing you’ve said is a question.”

Oh, right. He has a point.

“My question is, just now, in the water, I felt we might be going in a certain…direction.” I force myself to meet his gaze full-on. “And I’m interested in…in where?”

There’s an answering glint in his dark eyes and my stomach clenches. That’s his answer. Right there. That expression. And the slow smile spreading over his face.

   
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