Fun In The Sun, Chapter 22

"I don't think we thought this through very well, Nick," Sal said as she squelched up the road towards her apartment. Her dress was forming an uncomfortable second skin against her shivering body and the sea breeze was chilling her to the bone.

"Sorry, Sal. I'd offer you my shirt, but I don't see how it's going to make any difference," he replied, holding up the garment which he'd taken off after coming out of the sea. As he had started to unbutton his shirt on the beach, Sal had realized that she'd never seen Nick shirtless before and she had made a conscious attempt to avert her eyes.

Now however, Sal had bigger concerns and she stopped suddenly to pull Nick into a shop doorway.

"Give me that shirt; I'm a desperate woman!" she exclaimed as her teeth chattered with cold. He handed it to her with a grin.

"Feeling frisky, Sal?" he asked, watching her attempting to peel the sodden top half of her dress down behind the barrier of his shirt.

"I'm always feeling frisky Nick, as well you know," she chatted away, fighting to free her arm from one of the straps, "but at this precise moment I'm just a little more focused on not freezing to death! And besides..." she began, looking up, but stopping when she noticed him watching her. He turned his head abruptly away then and began pacing the pavement just outside the shop.

"Hurry up, Sal."

"Okay, let's go," she said, emerging from the shop porch wearing his shirt with her arms wrapped around it at her middle and the upper half of her dress peeled down to her waist.

"I have to tell you Sal, that's not your best look," he joked, looking her up and down.

"What do you mean?" she said, glancing down at herself with amusement. "Hey, I could have just invented a new fashion statement," she laughed. "Come on, let's go before we both freeze," she said, slipping her arm through his and rushing them both impatiently up the hill.

xXxXxXxXxXxX

When they finally reached Sal's apartment block, Sal raced up the steps and called over her shoulder to Nick,

"Gotta get out of this dress. Get the kettle on, will you?"

"Tea or coffee," he shouted after her.

"Tea please," she shouted back.

He followed her up the winding stairs to the second floor and just about reached the top as she had fumbled with the front door key and let herself inside, leaving the door open for him behind her.

Letting himself into her apartment, he headed for the kitchen, an area that formed part of the open plan lounge and was separated by a simple breakfast bar. It was a small apartment and could have done with a few modernizations in places, but Sal had made it nice and homely in her own unique way. In particular, Nick noticed that there were more pictures on the walls, shelving units and soft furnishings than he had remembered from last season. Sal had obviously spent more time in her apartment over the winter and had focused on the interior.

He was just searching through her kitchen cupboards for cups, when Sal came bounding out of the other room, exclaiming,

"Cancel the tea, I've just had a brainwave!"

As Nick turned to answer her, he suddenly forgot what he was going to say when he registered what she was wearing: the tiniest example of nightwear he had ever seen, consisting of a skimpy pair of pink shorts and a pink, strappy top with the words 'Come And Get Me' written across it.

He laughed. "Sal, don't you possess any nightwear that isn't suggestive?"

"Don't be silly," she chuckled, glancing down at her garments, "my motto is always be prepared. You never know how an evening is going to pan out. Besides, this is my least suggestive nightwear, Nick."

Goodness knows what her most suggestive nightwear was like then!

"So, what was your brainwave?" he asked, trying not to focus on the fact that he could tell, as she walked towards him with something in her hand, that she had apparently dispensed with her bra and was braless underneath that tiny top.

"It will take a bit longer," she began, reaching past him to flick on the switch to her coffee machine, "But it will be really nice and warm us both up better. Ooh, and you know what we could have?"

"What?" he asked, amused at her enthusiasm about two simple cups of coffee.

"I think I've got some salted caramel capsules I haven't even tried yet," she replied. "Imagine how amazing that will be."

He smiled, finally locating the cupboard he'd been searching for and pulling out two large cups.

"Sounds great, Sal."

"Here," she said, handing him the garment she had been carrying in her hand. It was a pale blue man's shirt.

He took it from her, holding it up in confusion.

"Where did you get this from?" he asked.

"Thought you might still be a bit cold," she said.

A smile started to form as he noticed her avoidance of his question.

"Okay, Sal, but whose shirt is it?"

"Err, well..." she hesitated and then tutted. "Look, Nick, before you start, I didn't sleep with him," she said defensively. "It was just some tourist from last year. We didn't have sex," she repeated, "So you can't call it a one-night stand. We just..."

He rose an eye brow. "Just what?"

"Err..." She struggled to think of a suitable word for it. "We... well, you know."

He shook his head. "No, I don't know, Sal," he grinned.

Oh, for goodness sake.

"Fondled," she blurted out, failing to come up with a better word.

He couldn't stop himself from laughing then. "Ah, I see, so it was a 'one-night fondle' then," he teased.

"Shut up," she chastised, "and let me get to the coffee machine so we can get those coffees made."

He chuckled to himself and moved away from the kitchen units, allowing Sal access. She searched through her drinks cupboard for the capsules, and finally found them, exclaiming excitedly,

"Got them! I knew they were in there somewhere."

Nick was leaning against the back of Sal's sofa, looking thoughtfully at the shirt in his hands.

"Sal," he began inquisitively, "so if you still have the shirt, did he go back to his place half clothed or something?"

Sal was busying herself preparing the coffee machine. "He didn't come here," she informed him. "I went to his apartment."

"So, you stole his shirt," Nick said incredulously.

Sal finally let the coffee machine do its job and turned to Nick. "No silly." She sighed. She was obviously going to have to explain. "We fell asleep and I woke up in the morning, and … well, I wasn't going to do the 'walk of shame' across town in my clothes from the night before. Everyone would notice. So, I persuaded him to let me borrow his shirt; it kind of hid my dress beneath it and I snuck down the back roads home," she chuckled.

"Ah, I see. And you never gave him his shirt back?" he said with amusement.

"It's not like I kept it on purpose. I just didn't see him again before he flew home," she shrugged. "Blimey Nick, I wish I hadn't given you the shirt now. Now that I've had to tell you all the sordid details of my disastrous love life," she said, looking slightly crestfallen.

He laughed softly to himself and left the shirt on the back of the sofa to approach her, taking her face in his hands affectionately.

"Sorry Sal, I wish for your love life to be less sordid and much less disastrous in the future," he said with a smile.

She glanced up at him sheepishly. "Can you wish for that to be in the near future?" she asked.

He laughed. "You are a constant source of amusement for me, Sal. You say the funniest things. Yes," he whispered, resting his forehead against hers, "I'll wish for it to be in the very near future for you."

He couldn't help but wish for it to be him in the very near future for her, but he thought it wise not to tell her about that. Then mischief took over him again.

"Sal, you aren't going to steal my shirt and add it to your collection, are you?" he asked, dropping his hands to her shoulders.

She laughed. "I don't have a collection, stupid."

"And then," he went on, "When the next guy comes back here, you'll give him my shirt and keep his." He gasped as something occurred to him. "You have a fetish for collecting different men's shirts!"

"Stop it," she giggled. "I don't have a fetish."

"Hmm." He didn't seem sure but finally relented. "Oh, alright, I'll just have to trust that you won't take my shirt," he grinned, moving back to the sofa and picking up the spare garment.

As he was slipping his arms into the shirt, he turned to see that she had a big grin on her face. She was clearly finding something very funny.

"What?" he asked.

"Well, I thought your jeans might also be damp so I've left you some shorts in the bathroom to change into," she cringed, waiting for his reaction.

He burst out laughing. "Ok, so whose shorts have you stolen now then?"

"Adam's," she replied quickly.

"What? Sal, are you and Adam having an illicit affair?" he asked with amusement.

"Don't be ridiculous! He wore them one time when he was helping me paint the walls. He said he might as well leave them here in case I needed his help again. He got paint on them; you can check if you like. Evidence that I'm telling the truth," she stressed.

He shook his head at her. "Stealing Adam's shorts," he tutted. "Wait till I tell Fay about it."

She laughed and pushed him away from her. "Go and get changed, and stop thinking up outrageous things!"

As he walked into the bathroom, chuckling to himself, she heard him say,

"I wonder what else I can find in here. I need some more t-shirts, and maybe a new jacket."