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‘I’m fine,’ he says, furrowing his brow. ‘What’s this about?’
‘I hate to do this to you, because I know how much you’re looking forward to your breakfast, but we might need to divert to the nearest hospital and get you checked out.’
‘There’s absolutely nothing wrong with me!’ he exclaims.
‘You say that, and I’ll admit I’ve never seen these symptoms in real life before, but thankfully, there are a load of videos on TikTok that show you exactly what to look for. I’m worried that you’ve ruptured your manliness gland.’
‘My what?’
‘Your manliness gland. Surely you’ve heard of it? Basically, it’s this gland that all men have near the hypothalamus, which contains a cocktail of hormones to keep you manly. If it ruptures, well, the consequences can be disastrous.’
I can see his eyes crinkle with amusement behind his sunglasses. He’s on to me. Question is, will he join in with the game or not?
‘I see,’ he says slowly, a smile creeping across his face. ‘I’ll admit that I wasn’t aware of this before.’ He’s playing the game then.
‘Typical man,’ I retort. ‘No interest in how his body works until it goes horribly wrong.’
‘And you think mine has gone horribly wrong? Based on what, exactly?’
‘I knew you were a goner the moment you asked me to find some music. I mean, only a guy whose manliness gland had suffered a catastrophic failure would allow a woman to touch his car radio, let alone actively suggest it.’
His face falls in mock-horror. ‘You’re right,’ he agrees. ‘I didn’t even realise I was doing it, which probably makes it worse. What do we do? I have no idea how close the nearest hospital is.’
‘Let me look online,’ I say reassuringly, as I pull out my phone and pretend to launch a browser. ‘Maybe there are some steps we can take on our own.’ I mock-scroll, muttering to myself every so often.
‘What? What does it say?’ Nathan asks after a while.
‘OK, the good news is that letting me touch the radio is a comparatively mild sign, which can potentially be managed or even cured with a short, sharp dose of team sports on TV. It says here that these vary by culture so, I guess it would be football or rugby for you.’
‘I can’t say I’m terribly interested in either of them, sorry.’
‘Cricket?’
‘That would probably have the opposite effect to the one we want.’
‘OK. Maybe you don’t need to enjoy them; you just need exposure.’ Note to self: Nathan isn’t likely to be a sports bore. I’m not sure why that little nugget of information matters, but I decide to store it away anyway. ‘The crucial thing is how you react if I do this.’
The air conditioning is currently set to automatic, so I turn the temperature dial on my side down to its lowest setting, before increasing the fan speed to maximum.
‘What on earth do you think you’re doing?’ Nathan exclaims, hurriedly hitting the button to set it back to automatic.
‘I was hot. I wanted to cool down,’ I tell him.
‘This is a no-win situation,’ he complains after a moment. ‘If I’m to prove that my manliness gland is OK, I have to mansplain how climate-control air conditioning works. But if I do that, I’m revealing myself to be a colossal bore.’
‘This is worse than I feared,’ I tell him with a smile. ‘Not only is your manliness gland up the spout, but it’s obviously caused your self-awareness levels to spike.’
‘I’m doomed,’ he admits with a sigh. ‘Is there any hope?’
I turn my attention back to the phone and mock-scroll some more. ‘It says here that the most serious symptom is if you stop to ask someone for directions. If that happens, we have to go straight to the nearest hospital.’
He laughs. ‘I think we’re safe on that score. Not only does the satnav seem confident that it knows the way, but both the vineyards we’re visiting are on the same road, so it would be pretty hard to get lost between the two. Now, are you going to choose some music or diagnose me with another non-existent health condition?’
It takes a while to find a radio station that is playing the kind of music we’re looking for but, once I’ve done it, I settle back in my seat, adjust my sunglasses so Nathan hopefully can’t see me checking him out, and let my imagination run riot.
He’s good-looking, but that’s not news. I clocked that the first day I met him in the gym. He takes good care of himself, but not obsessively so, and he’s professed a lack of interest in team sports, which means he’s probably available at weekends. He’s also demonstrated a quick sense of humour by picking up on my game and running with it. He dresses nicely, but again not obsessively so. He’s clean shaven and, looking at the skin on his face, I would guess he uses some form of moisturiser as it looks relatively soft and supple. I feign a stretch so I can lean a little closer to him and, as I breathe in, I catch the gentlest whiff of sandalwood aftershave. His face is a slight issue as I normally prefer a bit of stubble, particularly on darker-haired men. But then, the problem with stubble is it gets terribly itchy after a while if you’re kissing. Nathan looks like he’d be nice to kiss. As well as not getting gravel rash, his lips are just full enough to be inviting – nobody likes a mean little slit of a mouth – without being effeminate. What’s the catch, I wonder?
He could be gay, I guess. That’s a possibility I hadn’t considered. He doesn’t give off a gay vibe, although any of my friends would tell you that my gaydar makes the national railway system look reliable. He’s not wearing a wedding ring, but I suppose he could be engaged, or have a girlfriend waiting for him at home. If so, I hope he’s been up front with her about me. I don’t want her to get the wrong impression, even if I have been shamelessly ogling her boyfriend.
