Did he just…?
He just pushed me into the pool.
I come up to the surface and look around to see a few people looking over at me, curious. I feel the heat rise in my cheeks and begin to swim to the side. The pool just had to be empty didn’t it? I just had to trip and spill my drink. It just had to be spilt on Balcony Boy.
He obviously lied when he said it was no big deal. I see him laughing at the side of the pool as he watches me. I pull myself out of the pool, stomp over to where Jake is stood and do the most stupid, impulsive, anger fuelled thing I have ever done in my life.
I slap him. 6
I hear the satisfying smack of my hand against his face. He immediately stops smiling and stares at me in shock, mouth hung slightly open. I then do the second most stupid, impulsive, anger fuelled thing I’ve ever done in my life.
I shove him in the pool, pick up my drinks and walk back to my family, not stopping to look back. +
I get back to my family and give them their drinks. My dad looks up, “Why are you all wet?”
“Um, I fell?” It came out as more of a question than a convincing excuse.
“But managed to save all four of our drinks without spilling them?”
“Yes?” He shakes his head, clearly not believing me, but doesn’t ask any more questions.
I spend the rest of the day avoiding Jake as much as humanly possible. It’s not hard considering the amount of people at the hotel, but I’m still constantly on edge. We’re all sat at the bar when my grandad turns to me.
“Have you spoke to that lad?” he asks quietly.
I look around him to see the rest of my family are distracted in conversation. If there’s anyone I can tell about my awful encounter today, it’s my grandad. I sigh and drop my head into my hands. “Yes, actually.”
“Guessing it didn’t go well?”
“You have no idea.” I tell him everything and glare at him whenever he starts to laugh.
“Well, that was bold of you.”
I snort in response.
“Grandad, I slapped him, then pushed him into the pool.”
“As I said, bold.” He replies smirking at me. “In your defence, he pushed you in the pool first.” 1
“I spilt my drink on him first.”
He scratches the back of his neck, “Well, yes, you did do that.” He pauses. “But that was an accident.”
I smile at his feeble attempt to make me feel better.
“Although,” I cringe, not wanting to hear what comes next, “pretending to speak French? Really?”
“I know, I know. I panicked!”
“Your reaction to panic is quite different to other people’s.” He smiles mockingly and I smack his shoulder lightly. “Don’t worry about it too much.” But even as he says it, I think we both know it’ll be on my mind for the rest of the holiday.
After a night of playing cards, we all go to bed. I toss and turn, today’s events replaying in my head over and over again.
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