Geli Voyante's Hot or Not (29 page)

‘Geli Voyante!’ the surfer bellows. ‘
Sawubona
!’

‘Eric,’ I weakly manage to reply, hoping he doesn’t continue because my conversational Zul
u is far from polished after a few days back on home soil, but I am relieved to see Eric because it means I’ve managed to avoid Calvin’s question and the fact that I might blurt out to Calvin that our kiss
wasn’t
the result of too much medicine and not enough sleep and that I could quite happily kiss him again. And again.
For the rest of my life, in fact.

‘I thought it was you! How’s my favourite ex-girlfriend?’

‘Well…’ I stammer.

Calvin, I
note, doesn’t look ecstatic about Eric’s arrival. Eric is ripped I guess. Does Calvin feel a little insecure, perhaps?

‘What
? You thought Tiggy “Bitch-face” Boodles was my favourite? Miss Herpes!’ He guffaws. ‘Please!’

Oh
dear, now I wish he
had
continued in Zulu...

‘Ha!’ I chuckle weakly. ‘You always did like your little joke, Eric! This is Calvin. Tiggy’s
fiancé
,’ I say significantly. 

‘As did you, Geli. Tiggy’s fiancé!’ H
e sniggers. ‘Who would actually marry that tramp?’

I can tell
Calvin has gone from dislike, to the likelihood that he is going to punch Eric if he doesn’t shut up. Mind you, Eric does have that very defined upper body strength from surfing on display... I’d be silly to place a bet on the winner of this potential beach-side brawl. Eric would beat Calvin fists-down, but Calvin should be incised with rage and need to protect the slur of his fiancée’s (not-so) good name.

Although I’
ve been hankering for someone to stop the Tiggy-Calvin wedding since it was announced four months ago, and I do just want to run off and elope with Calvin because of what I feel every time we are together, I do feel awful for Calvin. He doesn’t know any better, and he’s about to find out that Santa Claus does not exist.

Eric continues his hole-digging, oblivious t
o my wide-eyes and not-so-subtle head shake. ‘You two look perfect together. Honestly, I’m so glad to see you back here with someone like?’

‘Calvin,’ Calvin
snaps. He doesn’t offer Eric his hand.

I feel a little fizz
from Eric thinking we look
perfect
together. ‘Tiggy’s
fiancé
,’ I stress, since Calvin hasn’t.

He looks at me
, a puzzled look on his face for what feels like forever. Eric’s face is ridiculously expressive, whereas his body is rock solid. I can’t help but fail to miss
that
. He’s not the brightest tool in the shed, but the exterior is gorgeous. I know he can’t fathom out why I’m keeping up this joke, but then he finally realises, this is no joke. The cent drops.

‘Oh bloody hell
. Ha, ha! Sorry, mate!
Nglyaxolia
,’ he adds to me. ‘So, you and Tiggy, eh? Blimey.’

I can tell Eric is thinking what I am
thinking – isn’t life funny? What on earth is a man like this doing with Tiggy Boodles, Bitch of the Berea? I understand perfectly – I’m finding this harder to comprehend in the southern hemisphere than I was in the northern – the topsy-turvyness of the world hasn’t righted this flawed pairing for me, so Eric has no chance. He has the comprehension of a gnat.

‘Eric i
s Tiggy’s ex-boyfriend,’ I helpfully supply, the first silly thing that pops into my head.

‘And
Geli’s too,’ Eric pipes up, Mr Stud of South Africa.

He
’s good-looking, short and stocky – stockiness can make a girl feel delicately small – but he’s no tall, dark and handsome type like Calvin or Theo.

‘Chose the wrong one though.’ H
e smiles ruefully at me, squinting in the sun.

His freckles are all practically joined up when he does that – only Eric could squint his eyes and manoeuv
re his face into cuteness. Only Eric could dump me for Tiggy and gain my forgiveness. He’s a loveable sort really – I’d forgotten his nicer, non-cheating qualities and, OK, the herpes-incident gave him more brownie points than he deserved. Such. A. Child. That Calvin-Geli “perfect” comment has trebled those points.

‘
Right,’ is Calvin’s response.  

I must admit
, I can’t think of anything else Calvin could say to that one.

Eric senses the awkwardness too
, and rushes on desperately, rubbing his hand over his head. His shaved head look is new to me but it suits him. ‘You’re a London boy then?’

We all had an affinity with London
as we grew up – it’s where we all wanted to flee to once we were old enough to escape parental control. Surprisingly not many of us did. There’s something addictive about Durban – maybe the chemicals from the lack of ozone, or maybe it’s because it’s such a beautiful and wonderful place. I never thought Eric would leave – he loves surfing and it’s great to surf here, sharks aside. London’s not exactly renowned for being a surfers’ paradise. I flop back down on the beach and the boys join me.

‘Windsor,’ he replies. ‘B
ut I live near Canary Wharf now.’

‘And did you board?’
he asks, meaning boarding school, not surfing, but you never know with Eric.

Eric
expects that Calvin is the quintessential Brit we always imagined as teenagers. James Bond really. We were all sorely disappointed, and frozen, when we were sent for a semester abroad in Scotland. If I’m not careful, Eric will be asking Calvin if he wears a bowler hat, plays cricket and keeps a British bulldog as a pet.

‘
Harrow.’

‘And you work in the City?’

‘For the time being,’ he courteously replies.

That
seems to satisfy Eric. Calvin has adhered to his stereotype, even down to the accent that sounds disgustingly tally-ho clipped Home Counties in comparison to Eric’s Durban twang. Eric’s twang is quite cute actually, but it has only served to highlight the sexiness of Calvin’s dulcet tones.
Hel-lo!
And stop that Geli.

‘Good stuff,’ Eric replies, proceeding
to bombard Calvin with enough questions about London life that he must have mistaken Calvin’s job declaration as being that of “Official City Tour Guide” – maybe Eric is confused about what a
City
job entails.

The bombardment continues, with Calvin answering politely – providing some interesting insight into Mr Murphy-Lee – and it’s
only when I notice Calvin getting dangerously red on the shoulders that I manage to drag him indoors away from Eric. Eric however, promises to call round soon, which will be interesting if he does. Calvin won’t know what’s hit him if he thought this encounter was trying; a visit to the house will cause utter
carnage
if Tiggy sees him.

‘Eric has a thing for you,’ Calvin finally snaps, breaking our silence. We’ve been sat silently watching the sharks in the observation area for the past fifteen minutes.

‘Pfiut
,’ I interject, but he continues.

‘Not that I blame hi
m. You’re very beautiful, Geli.’

T
his feels almost romantic, even with the shark in front of us devouring whatever has been thrown into the tank. I shiver with a mixture of delight and nerves.

‘Thanks,’ I cautiously reply
.

I don’t trust myself
right now. This could potentially be very dangerous. This could potentially be
it
.

Silence.
Where’s some screaming children when you need some?

‘You’re very handsome too,’ I add.

Handsome!
Handsome?
Who uses words like
handsome
? How did I ever snag Theo with my excellent pulling technique? Not that I’m trying to pull Calvin... am I?

He laughs
, then sharply turns to stare at me. My heart leaps. I want to reach over to him – stretch my hand out, touch his very kissable lips. I want to gently trace my finger over those lips, then push him roughly up against the wall and… I reach my hand up, as if to touch him, but tuck my hair behind my ear instead.
Chicken
.

‘We can be friends, can’t we Geli?’
he finally asks me in a voice that betrays... he might not hate me.

‘Of course we can. Of cour
se we are,’ I hurriedly correct with a gulp – is it me, or is he leaning in closer?

‘Good.
’

He’s so close to me now
. If I just move my head forward a bit, we’d be kissing again. Is that his intention? I know he can feel this between us – I know this isn’t just me – yet we’re just looking at one another.
Why isn’t he kissing me?

‘
We’d better get you to those shops,’ he says quietly as he places his hand on my burning cheek. I’m melting on the inside. ‘I can’t say I’m in the mood to see such a predator destroy its prey.’ He nods at the tank.

‘Sure.
’

I
manage a smile as he removes his hand and I sneak another look at the shark. It’s oddly fascinating but I can’t help but think that Tiggy is a shark and I really don’t want her to devour Calvin. She has an agenda to this wedding, I just know it, because the more time I spend with Calvin, the more I realise Tiggy Boodles is not this man’s type. Maybe I’m not either, but he definitely deserves better than her.

As we
silently leave Marine World, Calvin stops for a moment and stares out towards the Indian Ocean. My heart is still thumping in confusion. It’s like the moment back there didn’t happen for him, but the ghostly feel of his hand on my face lingers on.

‘It really is beautiful here,’ he
mutters. ‘It makes me think…’

It makes him think
what, or about who? Is this about me? Is it Tiggy? Or, is it something else? It’s all so confusing.

What wonderful timing. Claire and Theo arrive in Durban to find Tiggy screaming at me whilst Eric looks on amused. Calvin is… I have no idea where he is. He stormed out.

‘You had to introduce him to Eric, didn’t you?’ she hisses at me. ‘Thanks
. Thanks a lot, Angelica.’

‘We bumped
into him on the beach, Antigone,’ I hiss back at her. ‘If you were that concerned about him finding out about your past,
you
should have taken him on a tour. You shouldn’t have abandoned him.’

‘You deliberately tracked him down,’ is her screaming response.

‘I can assure you she did not,’ Eric pipes up from where he is reclining in the sun lounger. I can tell he’s enjoying this.

Eric didn’t even have to open his mouth to reveal anything about Tiggy. One look at him and Tiggy flipped, revealing everything to a shocked Calvin
, who was especially shocked to learn his fiancée won’t be losing her virginity to him on her wedding night (perhaps he thought “Miss Herpes” meant something different over here? Oh, the poor, deluded handsome soul). Naturally, Tiggy blames me for all of this.

‘What have you done, Geli?’ Claire asks, coming across all mum-like.

‘Nothing,’ I repeat angrily. ‘Eric invited himself here. I didn’t do anything.’

‘I
can’t leave you for two minutes…’ Claire starts to rant at me; I zone out at this point to stare at Theo.

He’s looking at Tiggy strangely – I can’t quite fathom
it out – but then he remembers I’m here and suddenly we’re both flying into the pool.

‘This is not what I imagined
, Geli Voyante,’ he whispers dirtily as we surface coughing and spluttering. ‘Listening to your psycho stepsister scream at you doesn’t exactly do it for me.’

‘She’s being a bitch,’ I huffily supply as my answer, well aware of what Theo is insinuating with how his body is digging into mine.

I should have dumped him before I left, I realise that now.

‘As per usual,’ I unnecessarily add.

‘Mmm, good for her.’ Theo starts to nuzzle my neck. ‘I’ve missed you, babe.’