Chapter 17
1087 Words
It makes me wonder how I’ll feel in two or ten years from now? Will I be able to sit in a room and listen to my friends or Sia’s parents talk about them without it crushing me? I hope so, at the moment though, I don’t think I could bear it.
We collect our plates and cutlery and take them into the kitchen. I insist that Sia take a shower while I clean up and she goes with minimal persuasion.
Once we meet back up on the sofa, I lift my tea up, taking a sip of the hot, comforting liquid, and blurt out, “Damien came to the station today. He said he would take me out and about on Friday. He took my number and we texted for a while tonight.”
“Really! Where are you going, what will you do, what did he say?”
I show her the texts and she gets a big Cheshire-cat grin on her face as she reads.
“Can we please just take a moment to appreciate how beautiful and sexy and built the Kingsley men are? Jesus, they’re hot. Sometimes I just sit at work staring at Theo’s photo. I swear my body heats up a hundred degrees every time I look at it or hear his voice or touch him or he touches me or…”
I cut her off, not needing any more information. “I get it. Your boyfriend is a fitty and his gene pool is insane.”
“I know, right. They all look like that. Their moms must have been shooing girls away with a broom.”
And we giggle at the imagery of that.
Then she eyes me critically. “You need to do something with your hair and face and nails and, well, everything.”
“It’s not a date, though.”
“No and yes. I mean he’s a famous hockey God.”
I nod my agreement, but I’m still bewildered by the fact he’s famous. And what does that even mean? Does he get hounded everywhere he goes? Is he hockey-famous or movie-star-famous? Is there a difference? He didn’t act like that today. He acted like a normal person.
“Maybe this isn’t such a good idea,” I say as I start to recoil a little.
She puts her hands up to my face and shakes it, squashing my cheeks.
“No, don’t do that. He’s a really good guy. I promise, Vivi. I’ve spent a lot of time with him. Yes, he’s got a fancy house and car and sometimes people ask him for his autograph or a picture, but honestly, that’s where it ends.”
“Okay, if you’re sure. I trust your judgement.”
And she nods. “Yes, do trust me, and also, don’t google him. Like at all. Ever.”
I narrowed my eyes on her.
“People tell lies and print rubbish, Vivi. But he was also an NHL star at twenty-two. There are a lot of photos. A. Lot. It’s not worth it. He’s a good egg; you don’t need to be influenced by all that.”
I chew on my lip because this is a lot, while she plays on her phone like it’s nothing. Her thumbs move at an alarming rate for a few minutes and then she looks back at me.
“I’ve just booked you in for work. Now I can’t go with you, but would you like me to ask Charlotte? I’ll say I booked it for you when I found out you were coming to the city. Honestly, you’ll like her. Plus, she’s my friend because we both know what it’s like to have people be jealous of us.”
I fell about laughing because she just nailed a Clueless quote.
“But seriously, we get on really well when we see each other, and she only works four days a week.”
More new things, more new people. But if I do make another friend, maybe then Sia won’t worry about me so much.
Straightening up, I puff out a breath.
“Yes, okay then. Ask her.”
And so she does. Before I know it, I’m booked into a day at the spa with Damien’s sister.
Because that’s not weird at all.
•••
Pushing through the white-framed, glass doors of Heilsulind, I’m greeted with the scent of lavender, cyclamen leaves, and cucumber and the soft glow of candles illuminating the reception area.
Spotting Charlotte sitting on a beautiful, dusty pink chaise longue, I walk over to her. She gets up and gives me a big hug.
“Hi, Vivienne, you find it okay?”
“I did, the cabbie knew exactly where it was.”
“Yes. Damien hooked me up with a driver, so I didn’t need to worry either.”
“Ladies, would you like to accompany me over to the check-in desk?”
We exchange an excited look and follow the girl over to the desk.
The soft-spoken therapist explains what the day will bring: plunge pools, jacuzzies, full-body massages, facials, a light lunch followed by mani’s and pedi’s, and then finally a hair blowout with an optional trim if we’d like, already paid for.
She gives us a bit of background on the spa—all products and services are the same as Iceland’s Blue Lagoon, albeit on a much smaller scale. We both stare at each other, stunned. Sia definitely outdid herself this time.
We’re given fluffy white robes and slippers and escorted to the changing rooms. I’m already the most relaxed ever and we’ve been here all of fifteen minutes.
We change into our swimwear, both having brought black bikinis with us. I quickly braid my hair, while Charlotte piles hers on top of her head.
Opting to brave the plunge pools first—knowing they end with heated ones—we laugh as we each step up to the first two pools. Dipping a toe into its freezing water, I curl my arms around my waist, managing all of three steps before I stop. I look at Charlotte, who has done the same.
“Shall we just go for it?” she asks, scrunching up her face.
“Yeah, I think we should.”
She nods. “Ready?”
“One.” My feet dance on the edge of the step.
“Two,” she grimaces, and I hold my breath.
“Three,” she squeals, and we jump in.
- Writer
