Ditto for other real life things. I fiercely loved paddling, enjoyed socialising with my friends, but had few other real interests outside books, the occasional computer game and movie, and the ocean.
If only I could somehow make a life out of being an itinerant ocean-going bookworm… I snorted, amused at myself, and dived again, then drifted to the side, and with a leap upwards lifted myself clear of the water and onto the paving stones. I gathered my legs under myself and rose to my feet. The sun was starting to burn and, while I worshipped my tan, I worshipped my lack of wrinkles and moles more.
I dried off the worst of the water, clambered up the long tiled staircase, and popped my head into Olly’s room to check on him. He was asleep, and I smiled to myself. I stripped in the bathroom, towelled myself quickly dry, pulled on some sleeping shorts and a tee-shirt, then slipped back into his room. I slowly, gently lowered myself onto his futon next to him, and rolled over so that I could watch him breathing.
.:.
I woke up wrapped up in a fluffy throw, with Oliver reading beside me.
“I forget how sneaky you can be,” he observed when he noticed me stir.
“I missed you, and you looked so peaceful asleep that I thought I’d join you,” I yawned.
“Mm. Well. We’re probably going to miss the sunset now.”
“We can watch it from the deck,” I said, stretching, languid. “The beach will still be there tomorrow,” I added.
“Lazybones.”
“It’s summer. It’s holiday. Fuck the world. I’m having some delicious, well-deserved me time.”
Olly snorted, but didn’t disagree with my sentiment. He put his book aside and sat up, cross-legged. “How long are you here for, Shan?”
“At least the next week, maybe longer. My flat echoes; home doesn’t.”
“Funny that, I’d rattle around like a pea in a can if I was here alone.”
“You don’t spend as much time here as I do.” I rolled onto my back, then sat up. “Scavenge more off mum and dad and you’ll fit right in here as well,” I added, grinning.
“Parasite,” he smiled.
“Symbiote,” I corrected him. “I provide them with amusement and excitement, and they keep me watered and fed.”
“Uh huh. Speaking of… do you have plans for dinner?”
“None. Why?”
“Well, there’s not much wind so we could always fire up the Weber and cook something.”
“Does alcohol figure into this plan?”
“Is the Pope Catholic?” he asked.
“Mm. Deal. Olly?”
“Yeah?”
I leaned in and hugged him. “I’m glad you’re home. Next time, take me with.”
He squeezed me to him. “Deal, Shannon.” He rose smoothly to his feet and reached down, offering me his hand. I smiled, took it, and followed him downstairs.
“You got yourself quite a tan in Italy.”
“As I said. It was so hot I was running around in a tee-shirt half the time. It was amazing. Lots of good looking women in tight shirts on the slopes. Usually they’d be camouflaged. I enjoyed myself.”
“Slut,” I teased.
“Guy,” he corrected me, laughing. “Can’t blame me.”
“Can. Shall,” I retorted, touching his shoulder to let him know I was kidding.
.:.
“Your wine,” he said as he placed a glass next to me.
I smiled thanks up at him. “Chenin Blanc?”
“No, Sav Blanc. I’m cooking fish. Snoek in apricot.”
“Mm. That sounds nice. Been a while since I ate that.”
“You’re just too lazy to cook it for yourself, Shan. Let’s admit the truth.”
“I like having a personal chef,” I protested – Olly sipped his own wine, and shook his head.
“You’re getting skinny,” he added. “Don’t go to far, Shan. Don’t turn from slender to skeletal.”
“Or else?”
“Or else I’ll tie you down and force-feed you ice cream.”
“Yes, master,” I slurred.
“Don’t do that, Shannon,” Olly growled. “Don’t fuck with your body – you’re stunning and healthy. Don’t chase the unhealthy ideal.”
I blinked up at him. “I’m not chasing anything, Oliver. I just… sometimes forget to eat.”
He glared at me over his wineglass. “Nobody forgets to eat.”
“I do, sometimes. Sometimes… I’m so wrapped up in my book or in watching the sea…”
“Uh huh.”
He shifted his deck chair closer to mine, set his glass down next to it, and lay back, looking upwards into the early evening sky.
“What’s up with you?” I asked. “You don’t usually abuse me like this.”
He sighed. “You worry me, Shan.”
“Me?”
He turned his head to watch me. “Yeah, you. I worry about you when I’m not around to look after you. I don’t think you take good enough care of yourself.”
“I get exercise and sun and I haven’t managed to croak yet.”
“Mm,” he answered, eyebrow raised.
I reached out; rested my left hand gently on his right shoulder. After a moment, he covered it with his own.
“I’m OK, Oliver.”
“It’s the just OK bit that I worry about, Shan.”
I smiled wistfully. “You can’t protect me from everything, Olly.”
“I’ll stop trying when I’m dead.”
I glanced away, warmed by his concern. “So tell me about your conquests in Europe.” I sipped my wine; a delicious, dry white.
“There’s not much to tell,” he responded. “Lots of pretty girls but nobody I’d bring home with me.”
“Hah. I’m sure you had a… dalliance or two.”
He shot me a strange look. “Actually… no. I kissed a girl, but it didn’t feel right so I didn’t take it further.”
“Oh come on, Olly,” I laughed. “They must have been all over a hunk like you.”
“European men are good looking,” he answered, shrugging. “They’re immune to tall blonds.”
“Poor, neglected thing,” I sympathised.
“I survived,” he retorted, grinning.
“Mm. Ah well, there goes that vicarious gossip. I guess we’re down to discussing the weather.”
“Moist and sticky.”
“Now you’re just being foul.”
He waved an arm vaguely. “Pot, kettle.”
“Touche.”
We watched Venus appear over the mountain. Gulls, Hadedahs and the odd bat flitted over, and I enjoyed the soft soughing rattle of the bluegum’s leaves as the breeze picked up. A zephyr stirred ripples on the mirror-smooth surface of the pool.
I took a breath, sighed it out.
“Time to light the fire, I think.”
“On it like a bad rash,” he answered, standing.
.:.
“Fish will be ready shortly, Shan.”
“OK,” I called out from the kitchen. “Potatoes are done, just doing the tomatoes.”
“Bring some more wine with you, will you?”
“Sure thing. Which Sav Blanc was it?”
“Klein Constantia. Top right of the small rack. There’s at least one more there.”
“Got it.”
I carried the food, cutlery and wine out and set it down on the deck table. Oliver picked up the foil packet containing the fish and set it down on the baking tray I held. We sat down next to one-another on the cushion-covered bench, and he poured a fresh glass of wine for me.
“Welcome home, Olly,” I said softly, raising my glass to him.
“Good to be home, Shan,” he answered, clinking his glass to mine. “Home is where the heart is after all.”
“Indeed. The fish smells lovely, thank you.”
“Spuds are nice,” he returned. “Thanks for organising them.”
“No problem. They’re easy. Fish is hard.”
We ate quietly, and I enjoyed the comforting sense of his proximity to me. Our shoulders bumped occasionally, and at one point he gave me a long, level look.
“What?” I growled, suspicious.
“Glad to see you eating is all.”
“Oh, Olly. I promise I’m not starving myself.”
“Can’t blame a big brother for worrying about his baby sister, Shan.”
“You’re older by a few minutes.”
“Still technically true.”
I grinned, and laid my head against his shoulder. “Goody two-shoes.”
“Unabashedly.”
I grabbed our plates once we were done, and carried them through to the kitchen where I quickly rinsed and stacked them for later. Olly recharged our glasses and fetched me a light thermal blanket. “Wind’s getting up and cloud’s rolling down over the mountain,” he answered my unspoken question. “I know how you feel the cold, Shan.”
“Thanks, babe,” I replied, and he laughed.
The evening was my favourite kind. Wind, clouds, deep ultramarine at the zenith fading to dusky pink towards the west. Slowly the stars of the southern sky came out – Sirius, Castor, Pollux, Rigel in Orion, the Pleiades. Bats and the occasional owl darted through the circle of light cast by our windows, and I could hear Olly breathing.
“I don’t look up enough,” he sighed after some time.
“I never stop.”
“I know.”
“I want to go up north, Olly. Somewhere dark, away from city lights.”
“So do it.”
“Not alone.”
He smiled over at me. “Like I’d let you go have fun by yourself.”
“Promises, promises,” I whispered; he didn’t answer, but he reached out to squeeze my hand. I took a small breath, puzzled by the strange sense of dizziness I felt, before brushing it off as the effect of the wine.