"Looks like chocolate," Ethan says, crouching to touch a patch of dried mud, and for a second, I think he might try to taste it. It is Ethan, after all. He doesn't, though; instead, he lies down on his stomach, positioning my phone at an angle that cannot be comfortable for him to hold it in and snaps some pictures.

He is right; the drying top layer of the section of the mudflats that has been baking in the sun is cracked into almost symmetrical squares, causing it to look vaguely chocolaty and edible.

"Or like really dark fudge," he grins, looking up at me from his awkward position at my feet.

"Will you stop with the fudge already?!" I laugh, shaking my head. The guy has been hinting like crazy every chance he gets.

"But I was promised fudge, and I'm clearly not getting any yet," he sulks, making me laugh again.

"I promised the fudge to your rugby rival, not to you!" I point out, and now he's making a cute grumpy face that reminds me of a much younger Ethan, complaining because Delia won't share her cheese crackers with him. Come to think of it; I always see that face right before I give him my last cheese cracker... or whatever snack we're having.

That face is evil!

"If you give him fudge, I'll release all the prisoners you keep in your fish pond."

I roll my eyes. He knows that the reptiles living in and around our pond are not prisoners. They are free to leave if they want to; they choose to stay. I didn't even invite most of them.

"I've told you two thousand, nine hundred, seventy-three point-five times already to bring me some butter and condensed milk, and I'll make you some friggin' fudge," I sigh, wandering off to where the wet mud begins.

Well, I've told him at least once...

Ethan has really surprised me today. When I come across interesting patterns in the mud made by birds walking on it, by snails tunnelling down into it or by the wind and water playing over its surface, I take pictures of it. I enlarge, print and frame the best ones to add them to my growing collection of beautiful eco-system-related artworks on my bedroom wall.

He took my phone from me when I was getting ready to take my first picture today, and before I could protest, thinking he was being a pest again, he pulled off his black t-shirt, threw it at me and lay down in the mud, tilting the phone at unexpected angles to take some really awesome pictures.

He has a good eye when it comes to composition and lighting. He has always loved photography and has been lamenting not bringing his camera and lenses along today. He even talked about coming again soon to use them here, and he wasn't being sarcastic at all. He is truly getting into the spirit of things, and I don't know if he's just trying to be "the best boyfriend ever" or if he's really inspired by the rather desolate beauty around us. Probably both. I'm rather thrilled by the pictures he's taken so far. I don't generally roll around in the mud to take mine. His efforts are paying off.

It is not just the passion he is putting into taking the pictures for me that I find surprising. He's been attentively listening to me talking about the mudflats that form in intertidal zones, submerged under water and exposed twice daily and their significance and importance in the flyways of migrating birds, providing them with places of rest and food for their trek. And I've been going on and on like a friggin' tour guide.

If he is just pretending to be interested, he is doing a very convincing job of it, asking good questions and offering opinions that seem to be well thought out. He is even helping me find crabs and snails to admire and photograph, all with a very positive attitude. It's been fun so far, and if I didn't know any better, I would've thought that he was enjoying himself too. And we're not even doing anything dangerous, adventurous or stupid.

When he gets to his feet and joins me on the stretch of wet mud I'm strolling on, I stop to admire his latest creations, smiling contentedly, enjoying the fine texture of the silty mud under the soles of my feet and seeping between my toes.

"These are so good, Ethy! I love them! Thank you."

"Glad you like it," he smiles, his eyes straying to the thin layer of water trickling around us before rolling back to join the sea. I follow his gaze, loving the seclusion of my favourite little bay. One has to keep an eye on the water, though; once the tide comes in, you could suddenly find yourself trapped between large areas of deep water.

"Tide is starting to come in," Ethan says, taking my hand and walking to where I'd dropped my bag. Letting go of his hand, I pick up the satchel to slip my phone inside. I'm startled when he takes the bag from me, lowering it to the ground again and in the same motion, he is grabbing my hand, pulling me back to the ever-increasing area of wet mud and the water moving over it.

"Ethan?! What are you planning?" I have to run to keep up and crash into him when he suddenly stops in inch-deep water. He drops my hand, wrapping his arm around my waist to stop me from falling, and I step away from him the second I've regained my balance.

"I need a rinse," he says, scooping hands full of the shallow water, splashing it at the mud covering him. It is not very effective, and he wasn't joking about needing a rinse; his body is covered in smears and splashes of sediment-rich mud. Our minor collision has transferred some of that mud to me as well. I wasn't all that clean anyway, so it doesn't really matter. Still, the way it got transferred is making me feel a little breathless.

Bending down too, I gather some mud in my hand, grinning as I watch him trying to clean his face.

"You missed a spot," I say and, reaching out, smear the mud from my hand over the length of his nose and down his cheek. Ethan blinks at me, pressing his lips together.

"Why thank you," he says in a low toneless voice, his eyes narrowing while his grin is widening. That look never spells anything good, and I'm promptly the recipient of a smear of thick mud of my own. Straightening up, I back away quickly, shrieking, when Ethan lunges for me.

Important information they do not teach you at school - well, if they did, I didn't listen - never run backwards over slick mud; it doesn't end well!

I am soon tripping over my own feet, landing on my backside with a soft hiccup, my eyes growing in shock, when Ethan falls over me. I can see him trying to regain his balance while I'm trying to get out of his way. It only takes a second, but I experience it all in slow motion, right up until the moment he lands on top of me with a grunt from both of us.

At first, we're too startled by the overly intimate situation we're suddenly finding ourselves in to move. Ethan pushes himself up in an attempt to not crush me to death, and I think he is about to ask me if I'm okay, but he stops mid-word, staring down into my face, clearly shocked to realise that we're in a pose straight out of an erotic movie. I'm alarmed to see his pupils dilating, his shock changing to something I've never seen on his face before while looking at me.

"Ethan!" I call out, startled by my leaping pulses and the unfamiliar excitement building in the pit of my stomach. I'm feeling slightly panicked now, pushing against his shoulders and wriggling to free myself from under his heavy frame.

"Oh!" he gasps, his expression clearing and now he is the one looking startled and panicked as he lifts himself off me completely, rolling onto his back until we're lying side by side, both gasping for breath. I'm a little winded by the fall, and he probably is too, but I don't think that is why I'm struggling to get my breathing back under control.

What is wrong with me? Why is my heart trying to break out of my chest?

This is Ethan, not my current crush, Erwin, the extremely cute guy from The Edge of Seventeen. Ethan is no Erwin... He isn't sweet and awkward and witty and absolutely adorable... he is... Ethan, Delia's pain in the butt, brother. The guy who just Thursday got me detention because he annoyed me so much in the maths class that I slammed my textbook shut and proceeded to beat him up with it, not even hearing Mr Walmer telling me to stop.

What was that about again? I cannot even remember! Could be any one of an entire list of things that made me snap.

For instance, he pretended that he needed more space to use his drawing compass and kept on pushing my arm with his elbow, causing me to draw random lines all over my geometry book while I was trying to plot the circles and angles for the mathematical problems I was solving. Ethan sits on my right in maths, leaving my writing arm vulnerable to his attacks. I've tried to change seats so many times, but he just kept on following me, so I gave up.

Since I tutored him for our first test this year, he sees being my deskmate in maths as an essential requirement. I tried sitting in a row where my right side was to a wall, but he kept on trapping me there, turning the simple task of getting in and out of my seat into an adventure in conquering hurdles. When I say Ethan is a pest, I'm not exaggerating.

He also "accidentally" threw my eraser at James to get his attention. James, having eyes in the back of his head, obviously dodged, and it landed in the trash can next to the teacher's desk. He then pretended to be hard at work, completely unaware of the eraser incident when Mr Walmer fished it out, read my name on it and asked me what I was up to.

Another thing he did was to, unceremoniously and without asking, tear a page out of my notebook so that he could copy what I'd done on it...

All of that and so much more happened in the space of one 45-minute period. I won't even go into what he got up to in the hour of detention we were forced to share after school...

My heart has no business going nuts, and my ears can just stop singing! I cannot possibly be all hot and bothered because my body accidentally got tangled with Ethan's for a minute, and it looked like he was about to devour me. It doesn't matter how supple his muscles felt under my hands or how curious I am about what that devouring would've felt like.

Wow! This is awkward!

I'm still frantically trying to think of something to say to negate how freaked out I'm feeling when Ethan starts to snicker and chortle until he is finally laughing with mirth.

"Ouch," he says and then he is laughing some more.

"Is this going to be our thing now?" I ask, giggling too, though a little nervously. "Are we going to keep on falling down together, getting dirty and scraped up?"

"Why? Don't you like that?" he chuckles, turning his head to look at me.

"I'm not loving it," I admit, meaning the being scraped and getting dirty parts, the rest I'll remain quiet about... even under torture. I watch the water pool around Ethan's head, making his blond hair float. It's a bit cold, and I can feel it tickling my ears and tugging at my hair too.

"Well, we could always get ourselves a new thing," Ethan says, and before I can ask him to clarify, he does so, very literally, by turning onto his side and using a finger to brush strands of hair from my face before he kisses me.

I am completely taken aback! We're not saying hello or goodbye here, and every part of my body is rolling out the welcome mat. I need to set that mat on fire and slam the door shut, but before I can do that, I feel my treacherous lips reacting to his, inviting him to deepen the kiss. I'm just starting to really enjoy it way too much, willing myself to end this craziness when he suddenly leaps to his feet, dragging me up with him.

Letting go of my hand and without looking back, he strolls off to where he'd parked the motorcycle, and after a few stunned seconds, I slowly follow him on weak legs.

♂♀