When he emerges from the bathroom she is awake, propped up against the pillows and flicking through the travel brochures that were beside his bed. She is wearing one of his T-shirts, and her long hair is tousled in a way that prompts reflexive thoughts of the previous night. He stands there, enjoying the brief flashback, rubbing the water from his hair with a towel.
She looks up from a brochure and pouts. She is probably slightly too old to pout, but they’ve been going out a short enough time for it still to be cute.
‘Do we really have to do something that involves trekking up mountains, or hanging over ravines?
It’s our first proper holiday together, and there is literally not one single trip in these that doesn’t involve either throwing yourself off something or –’ she pretends to shudder ‘– wearing fleece.’
She throws them down on the bed, stretches her caramel-coloured arms above her head. Her voice is husky, testament to their missed hours of sleep. ‘How about a luxury spa in Bali? We could lie around on the sand … spend hours being pampered … long relaxing nights … ’
‘I can’t do those sorts of holidays. I need to be doing something.’
‘Like throwing yourself out of aeroplanes.’
‘Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it.’
She pulls a face. ‘If it’s all the same to you, I think I’ll stick with knocking it.’
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