Cheradine- Lost and found

Chapter 7

By evening they reach Morro Bay, roughly midway between LA and San Francisco.

It’s a quiet, prosperous town, most notable for the volcanic rock that stands at the entrance to the harbour. They find a hotel with an ocean view and book adjoining rooms for an overnight stay, intending to drive back first thing in the morning.

After freshening up, they head out for dinner, finding a cosy seafood restaurant overlooking the waterfront near the marina.

“This is a gorgeous little place,” Cheryl remarks after they’ve been seated in the al fresco dining area. It’s a warm night but the cool Pacific Ocean breeze makes it bearable. “Have you been here before?”

“No, I’ve only ever passed through.”

They study their respective menus for a bit, content to enjoy the comfortable silence. “This feels like bein’ on holiday,” Cheryl pipes up eventually. “Not sure I can face goin’ back to London and constant rain.”

“Mmm,” Nadine agrees. “It’s a whole different way of life out here. I love it.”

“Do you think you would you ever want to move back to the UK permanently?”

Nadine considers that for a moment, eyes fixed on the horizon where the sun is slowly sinking into the ocean. “Nah, I doubt it. My family’s here, my businesses.”

“Your boyfriend,” Cheryl adds with a laugh.

Biting her lip, Nadine looks down at her lap. “Well... not anymore.”

“You split up?” Cheryl asks, clearly surprised. “I thought youse two were... well, I’m one to talk. When did that happen?”

Nadine shrugs one shoulder. “A few weeks ago. Jason’s a nice guy but things had kind of run their course.”

“I’m sorry,” the brunette offers, giving a sympathetic smile.

“It’s not so bad. I’m enjoying bein’ on my own.” It’s only a small lie. While it is sort of liberating to be able to do what she wants without having to take someone else’s feelings into consideration, Nadine does miss the companionship.

“Soon enough I’ll be joinin’ you in the young, free and single category,” Cheryl mutters under her breath. She shakes her head. “Maybe we should just swear off men completely. They’re more trouble than they’re worth.”

Nadine bites her tongue until she can be sure she won’t say something inappropriate. Instead she turns her attention back to the menu. “I think I’m gonna have the lobster. How about you?”

**

That night Nadine lies awake, sleep proving elusive. It’s the combination of being in a strange bed, less than adequate air conditioning, and thoughts running overtime that keep her conscious.

She glances at the clock on the bedside table - 4:37am – and groans, knowing she’ll suffer for her bout of insomnia tomorrow.

She’s so focused on staring at shifting shapes on the ceiling that she almost doesn’t hear the soft rap of knuckles on the door that separates her room from Cheryl’s.

A moment later and the door creaks open, Cheryl creeping quietly across the carpet. “Nadz,” she whispers, “are you awake?”

“Yeah,” she responds, shifting onto her back. She can’t quite make out the other woman’s features in the darkness but she can picture Cheryl’s face clearly regardless. “What’s up?”

“Can I jump in with you? There’s funny noises comin’ from me air-con,” the Geordie admits, sounding embarrassed. Ever since she appeared in that episode of Ghost Hunting with Girls Aloud, Cheryl’s been a bit afraid of the dark (not that she’ll admit it).

“Course you can,” Nadine replies, suppressing a laugh as she lifts up the edge of the duvet.

A moment later and Cheryl’s under the covers, huddled up against Nadine’s back. Due to the heat, they’re both stripped down to their underwear and Nadine’s painfully aware of warm, bare skin pressing against her own.

It’s too hot, the air too humid for this, really, but she’s not about to complain because it feels so good.

For the longest time Nadine remains utterly still, as if the slightest movement might give her away. Cheryl doesn’t speak and Nadine thinks that maybe the Geordie’s fallen asleep because all she can hear is shallow, steady breathing and the gentle whir of the air conditioning.

It’s just when her eyelids start to grow heavy that she feels the press of lips, real or imagined she isn’t sure, against her shoulder and a whispered, “night.”