Three's a Crowd (10 page)

“What guy?” I said.

Eve blushed. “It wasn’t anything. Just someone at the restaurant we went to. He was drunk. He tried to . . . sort of . . . grab me when I was going to the loo. . .”

“
What?
” I stared at her. “What happened?”

“My dad punched him.” Eve looked at the floor. “If Alejandro and his dad hadn’t pulled him off, he’d have—”

“Guys.” Chloe’s voice was urgent now. “Luke, you really should leave.”

I blinked, my head whirling with an anger that spiked in several directions at once – at whoever had laid a hand on Eve, at Jonno for being the one who was able to punch him, at Alejandro for just being there.

Then I had an idea.

“Swap shifts with me, Chlo,” I said.

She frowned.

“I’ll do your crèche shift, you do my table-waiting. That way Eve and I’ll be working together from four to six and free together from six till eight.”

“Yes,” Eve breathed excitedly. “Go on, Chloe,” she urged. “We’ll say Luke’s covering ’cause you’re sick.”

Chloe shook her head at us. “Luke won’t last five minutes in the crèche,” she said. “But okay. If it’ll get you out of here now. Yes. I’ll do it.”

I grinned at her, then raced down the corridor and out into the main part of the hotel. I passed Jonno on the stairs, his head bent over a bundle of papers. He didn’t notice me.

Yes. I’d have loads of time with Eve this afternoon. The crèche was bound to have somewhere we could sneak off to. After all, how hard could looking after a bunch of little kids be?

Pilar, the crèche manager, was scandalised when I showed up on the doorstep instead of Chloe.

She looked me up and down, then shrieked. “But you are boy.”

“So?” I said. “That’s sex discrimination. There’s no reason I shouldn’t work here.”

Pilar clutched the bunch of long chains that hung round her neck. She was tiny – her head only came up to my chest. Looking down, I could see several grey strands streaking out from the centre parting of her long black hair.

“You do no understand,” she said. “The English mamas and papas do not like the boys looking after the children.”

“But Chloe’s not well,” I lied. “I’m her brother. I’m used to kids. I have a little brother, almost.”

“Very well,” Pilar said with a resigned sigh. She twisted her chains round her fingers. “But you must have to stay indoors.”

“Fine,” I grinned. Indoors sounded good to me. Indoors sounded private.

I followed Pilar inside. The crèche was a long, low building set between the pool on one side and the trees that led down to the beach on the other. Most of the kids – aged from three to seven years, Pilar said – were outside in the playground. Two hotel workers I vaguely recognised from the Garito were out there already, pushing them on swings and spinning them on the roundabout. I wondered where Eve was. Late probably, as usual.

Pilar showed me round inside. There was a small office area with three doors off it. “Store room, bathroom and indoor play,” Pilar said, pointing to each in turn.

She opened the door to the indoor play area. It was a large room with kids’ drawings and paintings on every bit of wall. About fifteen children were inside. Most were sitting round the series of low tables that filled one corner. A few were being read to by a hotel staffer on the rug under the long window. There was a big sink, lots of painting stuff. . .

Through the window, I watched Eve flying past the playground. She appeared seconds later, panting, in the doorway. “Sorry I’m late Pilar. Can I be inside today?” She grinned at me.

Pilar sniffed and muttered something in Spanish. “No. Outside. We have already three in here.”

I looked round. I’d only noticed one other worker – the one reading to the kids. I peered past the low table cluttered with colouring things, past the cluster of small children – to a girl at the furthest end of the table.

She looked up, narrowed her eyes and smiled at me. Catalina.

“Go with Catalina, Luke,” Pilar said briskly. “She show you what to do. Vamos, Eva. Outside.”

“See you later,” Eve said with a little frown.

I nodded, feeling slightly uncomfortable. Pilar and Eve left. I wandered over to Catalina. One of the children – a little girl – grabbed my arm.

“I’m Saffron,” she said. “I got a pony for my birthday.”

“Oh?” I sat down on one of the tiny chairs. My legs bunched awkwardly. I stared at Catalina. She was wearing a Bonita Babe T-shirt that looked at least two sizes too small, even on her petite body.

She gave me a long, sexy look. “Don’t worry,” she said. “We do painting now. Keep them busy.”

I helped her fetch the paints from the cupboard under the sink and pour them into trays. The other girl carried on reading to her small group on the mat, but the rest of the children crowded round me and Catalina, talking and shoving each other. Catalina slapped paper down on the table and told the kids to press their hands into the paint trays, then make hand prints on the paper. It was hard getting them all started, then exhausting stopping them from covering themselves with paint. In the end, Catalina made this impatient flicking gesture with her fingers.

“
Mierda
,” she said. “Who care if there is mess.”

The kids shrieked with excitement as Catalina encouraged them to do whatever they wanted. Two of the boys started flicking paint at each other and within half a minute the rest of the children had joined in.

Soon there were great paint splashes all over the tables, the floor and the kids. And us. After about ten minutes I stood back, staring down at my Bonita Boy T-shirt. It was so covered in red paint you could hardly see the blue of the material underneath.

Catalina sidled up to me. “You no normal working in crèche,” she said, pressing her hand against what remained of the word “Bonita”.

“No.” I watched, mesmerised by her stretched-out fingers. She slowly smeared the paint lower, over the word “Boy”.
Jesus.
Did she have any idea how much that was turning me on? I glanced guiltily towards the window. Where was Eve? “Er . . . my sister is ill,” I stammered. “I’m doing her shift.”

“
Si?
” Catalina stared at me with mocking brown eyes, her hand now pressed against my stomach. “Is true?”

I stared at her. Did she know about me and Eve?

The two boys who’d started flicking paint about earlier were now chucking whole handfuls of the stuff at each other. Catalina turned round and shouted something at them in Spanish. Although the children were English and, like me, couldn’t have understood what she said, the meaning was clear enough. They stopped instantly.

Catalina turned back to me. She put her paint-stained hand on my upper arm. “Is good idea,” she said. “Marco never come to crèche.”

My eyes widened.
Oh my God. She thinks I’ve come here to be with her.

The kids behind Catalina started fighting with the paint again. With a great crash one of the trays fell to the floor. Paint splashed everywhere. I backed away.

“I’ll go to the store room,” I said. “Find a moth. I mean a mop.”

I glanced out of the window again as I walked past. Eve was out there, standing next to Pilar by the slide. She saw me and waved.

I strode into the store room, shut the door, then leaned against it.

Why hadn’t it occurred to me that Catalina might be here? If Eve’d seen her coming onto me like that she’d think I’d been enouraging her. Which I had, I supposed, up at the Garito, but. . .

I took a deep breath. It was okay. Eve hadn’t seen. And Cat and I hadn’t actually done anything. She’d just got the wrong idea. All I had to do now was go back out and tell her about Chloe being ill again. Make it clear I hadn’t come here for her.

I spotted a mop and bucket in the corner and walked towards them. The bucket was wedged between the wall and a tall cupboard, the mop stored inside it. As I yanked out the bucket, the mop fell to the floor.

It masked the sound of the door opening behind me.

I squatted down to pick up the mop. As I pulled it upright, I felt a hand on my back. For a second I imagined it was Eve, following me inside. I turned round, smiling.

Catalina was standing over me, her lips slightly parted.

My smile faded. I stood up awkwardly, still holding the mop, squashed in between the wall and the bucket and Cat herself.

Catalina gazed at me for a few seconds, her chocolatey eyes hard and sexy. Then she reached up and took my face in her hands.

I gasped as she dragged her thumb across my lips.

She moved a little closer.

My heart raced. I took a small step back, knocking my heels against the bucket. I gripped the mop more tightly. “What’re you doing?” I croaked. “Someone could . . . er . . . I . . . someone. . .”

Catalina curled her lip. “Marco no here.”

She took another small step towards me. My feet were right up against the bucket, my fingers glued to the mop.

I leaned backwards away from her. “But,” I said, hoarsely. “But . . . but. . .” I couldn’t form the words. I couldn’t tear my eyes from Catalina’s face.

She was right there. Right up next to me, her body all compact and curvy and. . .

Catalina pressed herself against me. She smelled of dry, spicy perfume. “Only we are looking for the mop,” she murmured.

She curled her fingers round my neck, running them up through my hair. Then slowly, insistently, she pulled my head down towards hers.

I was so close. Breathing in her breath. My body shaking. Right next to her mouth. . .

“
Mierda
.” Pilar’s voice hissed along the corridor outside.

I pushed Catalina away from me, just as the door opened. Pilar strode in.

Even though we were not now actually touching, it was obvious what had been happening. I could feel my face was bright red. I self-consciously ran my hands over my hair, smoothing it down where I imagined Cat must have ruffled it.

Pilar’s tiny face was screwed up in fury. She pointed at me. “
Vete!
” she yelled. “Get out. I knowed boy bad news.
Vete! Ahora!
Go. Now.”

I dropped the mop. It clattered to the floor as I scrambled past Catalina, past Pilar and into the corridor. I fled out of the crèche door, through the playground outside and up towards the side of the hotel where Ryan and I were staying. I caught sight of Eve out of the corner of my eye. But I didn’t stop. I ran hard all the way back to the room. A single thought kept running through my head. If Pilar hadn’t come in when she did, I would have kissed Catalina properly. I knew I would. And I knew that Cat knew it. And I was pretty sure Pilar did too.

I sat down on the bed, my head in my hands, praying that Pilar hadn’t gone straight outside and told Eve.

By the time Eve turned up an hour later I had totally convinced myself she would know everything and forgive none of it. I was beside myself. How could I have been so stupid? Eve had been there. Right outside. She could have been the one who’d walked in.
God.
I’d risked losing her for what? One kiss?

A kiss I didn’t even end up having.

I was so caught up in my thoughts I didn’t hear the rap on the door at first. Then the knock came again, louder. I strode, miserably, across the room.

Eve was outside, still in her Bonita Babe T-shirt. She looked serious. Concerned. “I came straight round as soon as the shift finished.”

I couldn’t face her. I turned and walked back across the room.

“Luke?” she said.

“Nothing happened.” The words burst out of me. “I didn’t do anything. I swear. Whatever Pilar said.”

Eve walked round in front of me. “Are you okay?” she said.

I looked at her. Why was she asking if I was okay? “What
did
Pilar say?”

Eve grinned. “That she found you in the store room with Catalina.”

“I didn’t do anything,” I pleaded again. “Honestly. I wouldn’t. I—”

Eve laughed. “I know that, you idiot.” She shook her head. “Pilar knows what Cat’s like. Everyone does. All the girls here say she’s got a total rep for always horning after everyone. She was bound to try it on with you.” She smiled coyly up at me. “Loads of the girls here fancy you.”

I frowned. “So you’re not cross?”

Eve’s smile broadened. She pulled me down onto the bed and cupped my face in her hands. “You’re so sweet,” she said. “I know you would never, ever, do anything behind my back like that. Just like I wouldn’t to you.”

I stared at her, suddenly feeling like the biggest shit in the world. I knew in my heart that if no-one had disturbed us, that if I hadn’t been scared of someone coming in, I would have gone as far as I could with Catalina. Not because I liked her better than Eve. I didn’t. But because she was there, wanting me. Because she was hot. And because – if I was honest – it wouldn’t have occurred to me to stop.

Eve stretched out on the bed. “We’ve got two hours now, remember?” She drew me down beside her, her fingers cool and smooth on my guilty cheeks.

My stomach twisted. I didn’t deserve her. She was so good. So sweet. She didn’t even suspect me of fancying Catalina. Let alone acting on it. I reached out and took her face in my hands.

All I could think was how lucky I was to have her. How close I’d come to losing her.

Losing Eve.

I could never, ever let that happen.

“I love you,” I said, softly. “I see who you are. Who you
really
are, underneath how beautiful you look. And I really, really love you.”

Eve blinked at me. Neither of us had ever said those words before. They’d always seemed so distant, so grown up. I mean you love your mum and dad and maybe other people in your family. But loving a girl. Being in love. It was like one minute I had no idea what that was about. And the next, I understood exactly what it meant. Because it was exactly how I felt.

We lay there, looking at each other, for a long time. Then almost as if we were reading each other’s mind, we moved closer together and kissed – a deep, slow, magical kiss, that somehow shut out the rest of the world and yet contained everything we could ever need.