“I know. But we should walk on ... and have lunch.”“Rejected,” she pouted.“Yup.”“Who’s getting old?” she quipped.I slid her leg off ...nd gently lowered it to the ground. Far too gently, apparently.“Oh come on, Matt!” she protested, stamping her foot on the ground roughly a few times. “I’m okay!”I groaned and stood, pulling her up to me. “Fine. I just don’t like seeing you hurt.”“Get used to it. It happens.”We started along the trail again. I checked my watch, finding that it was indeed getting. But it was too late to regret the lies that I'd told my parents in order to get rid of her now. She was getting her own back, I suppose, in the best way she knew how. Anyway, I had a new fantasy to occupy me. Ever since the American guy who ran the bikini bar in town had told me that part of his job was to interview the new girls for the club and get them to undress and try on the tiny pink costumes they used to wear down there and then photograph them, I'd thought what a fantastic job he had.. More

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