"You are such a bloody misogynist!" Jet is yelling at Ethan when Akari and I join them on the sidewalk outside Raffaello's. He has his fists clenched at his side and seems to be ready to use them.

"How the hell am I a misogynist?" Ethan wants to know, and so do I. Misogynism isn't one of the many, many things Ethan can be accused of. "You're not even a girl!"

"You offered me friggin' tissues! You're implying that I'm one."

"If you think offering guys tissues implies that they're girls, you're the misogynistic one. Men use tissues too!"

There are so many things wrong with this conversation, and I'm not only referring to the fact that they're using big words, which I'm not convinced they even understand.

"Maybe I was looking for a different word..." Jet grumbles, unclenching his fists. Oh, good, their conversation could possibly start to make sense soon.

"I wasn't mocking you; I was being sincere! You're really going to need some."

They glare at each other for a few silent seconds, Jet narrowing his disconcerting ice cream green eyes, but whatever he sees in Ethan's face suddenly makes him relax, holding out his hand. "Yes, give me some."

"I... don't have any," Ethan shrugs, stroking the back of his head, looking like a cute, sheepish anime character.

"Why the hell did you offer me tissues if you don't have any? I'm going to need tissues!"

Nope, I am still not following this strange conversation, but I hastily open my purse, pull out the wrapped packet of tissues I keep in there and hand them to Jet.

"Thanks," he grunts, taking them, still glaring at Ethan. "Come, Akki, we're going to be late."

We say our goodbyes, Ethan taking my hand as we watch Akari and Jet cross the street to the movie theatre.

"Want to walk on the beach?" he asks when our friends disappear through the door. "Or do you also want to go see the movie?"

"Beach," I scoff. Egret's Rest's theatre doesn't generally show new releases. It recycles old ones, and tonight's movie is The Notebook, which is not our kind of movie at all. Ethan and I like witty action adventures, not tear-jerkers. In fact, I can't stand tear-jerkers. Life is sad enough. "Wait! Does Jet know what movie is playing?"

Akari said that there was a movie they both wanted to go watch tonight but got forced into attending the function in Silverview instead. Surely, she didn't mean The Notebook?!

"Yeah," Ethan shrugs, starting to walk towards the beach. "Jet needs a good cry now and then. Movies like that help him get the job done."

This might actually top the list of strange things I've seen and heard since I became Ethan's girlfriend. Jet, the most unromantic, most insensitive jerk I know, voluntarily watches sensitive movies to make himself cry.

Do we ever really know anybody?

Being on the beach, it doesn't take long for me to realise that I've made a huge mistake. Ethan and I kicked off our shoes, rolled up our pantlegs, and strolled along the water line like actual lovers in a sweet, swoon-worthy movie of our own... for about ten minutes.

We soon got bored, obviously and decided to build a sand castle instead. Playing with the sand made me wonder about important life questions, such as why people build sand castles and snowmen, not snow castles and sandmen. These questions are so important that I asked them out loud.

Ethan told me that building snow anything in Egret's Rest was impossible since the temperatures here range from pre-hell to beyond-hell, as if I didn't already know that. I sweetly explained to him that he is an idiot and missing my point, which inspired the dude to throw a poorly made ball of moist sand at me.

He said he was just testing my theory to see if one could substitute snow with sand. I then tested that theory right back at him... multiple times, and that is why we are now both covered in more sand than the actual beach, and I'm running away from him because he wants to dunk me in the ocean. It's probably fair because I did splash him... a few times.

Still, he is bigger than me, and if he catches me, I will regret it. I'm surprised that he hasn't caught me yet; he is fast and agile and can cover more ground with one step than I can cover with five.

I shriek when I'm suddenly airborne, giggling when Ethan tosses me into the air like I'm a toddler, spinning me to face him before he catches me again. That was a rather thrilling trick. I'm tempted to shout: "Again!" but I don't because I'm not insane; besides, my chest is now pressed tightly against his, and his face is too close to mine. I also think he's forgotten about the new kiss rule we made earlier tonight.

Or not.

He is not closing the five-millimetre space between his mouth and mine, and I have no idea what I'm supposed to do now, so I just gaze into his eyes, dark in the gentle lighting provided by lantern-shaped lights scattered at intervals along the sidewalk and across the beach, bathing us in a soft, warm glow. He truly is the most beautiful boy I've ever seen... and I only drank a few mocktails; I cannot even claim to be drunk.

Suddenly afraid of myself and of the erratic beating of my heart, I wrap my arms around Ethan's neck and hide my face there, clinging to him like a frightened child. It's not helping! If anything, feeling the warmth of his skin against my cheek, breathing in his intoxicating scent and having his arms wrapped around me is making everything so much worse.

Without planning to, I turn my head and trail my lips along his neck, marvelling at the goosebumps I'm teasing to life on my path across his skin. Ethan turns his head when my journey reaches his jaw, causing my lips to slide to his chin.

"Kicks," he whispers, tilting his head more, and his lips finally find mine, tentatively, suddenly uncertain of their welcome. I'm about to throw open all the doors and invite him in with fanfare and banners when a wet beast attacks us. It is someone's sand-caked dog, and it is jumping up against us, eager to join the fun. Ethan reflexively lowers me to my feet and kneels next to the animal.

"Cougar!" A man, I presume to be the dog's owner, is running towards us with a leash bundled in his hand.

Cougar, who looks like a young wolf and not like family of any kind of cat I know, ignores the leash carrier, happily licking every part of Ethan she can get her tongue on, even his face when he puts his arms around her, holding onto her for the exhausted man closing in on us.

I'll admit I'm experiencing a rather daunting mixture of jealousy, relief, irritation and all-consuming love. This is the prettiest dog! Her fur is thick and long, mostly black, with some brown and cream enhancements.

I sit down next to Ethan to get my share of affection from the friendly dog and am a bit disappointed when her owner finally reaches us and hooks the leash to her collar.

"I'm sorry," he gasps, too breathless to speak properly. "She got away from me! Thank you! I've been chasing her all the way from North Beach!" He huffs and puffs, sinking down on the sand to wrap his arms around his dog and catch his breath. Wow, that is quite a long way to run, especially on sand!

"No problem," Ethan says, but he's not being his boisterously friendly self. He pats the dog's head and smiles at the stranger, but his jaw muscles are moving in the way they always do when he is feeling tense and grinding his teeth. True to his nature, he still makes some idle chit-chat with the guy, and by the time we're ready to leave, they are best friends.

I now know that Cougar's owner is John Stuart, a dentist who recently relocated to Palm Grove, one of the four towns in Summerfields named after... well, its beautiful grove of palm trees. His little daughter gave the dog her name, which makes it really cute. Dr Stuart will give each of us a free dental check-up if we make an appointment with his receptionist.

How nice!

Well, he was actually very nice. He is now lying on the beach and may or may not survive walking his one-year-old German Shepherd, and Ethan and I are docilely strolling to the car, which brings us to a new problem.

We are covered in wet sea sand and splashes of salt water; we will destroy the interior of Uncle Ian's car. Fortunately, our shoes and my purse (containing both our phones and the car keys) were excluded from our sandy adventures, left safely beside our unfinished sand castle or person - the jury is still out about what it was going to become - while we had our snowball fight using sand.

I don't relish the idea of stuffing my feet coated with sticky wet sand into my shoes, and no amount of stomping and brushing is making much of a difference.

"This is a problem," I tell Ethan when we reach the car, but he just shrugs and takes the keys I fish out of my bag for him.

"No, it's all good," he says and pops the trunk.

"You came prepared?" I ask, looking at the piles of folded towels in the trunk. Was he planning to roll me around on the beach? I thought it was a spontaneous event.

"No," Ethan chuckles. "My dad insists on having half our stash of towels in the car in case I ever use it. For some weird reason, he believes that I can never go anywhere without ending up dirty and/or wet, and he doesn't want me to ruin his seats. Seriously, I don't know what he's on about half the time," says the dirty, wet guy, wrapping my head in one of the towels and gently rubbing my hair with it.

"Yeah, makes no sense at all," I chuckle, my mind once again running over a lifetime of memories, almost all of them ending with Ethan being dirty and/or wet.

When we're clean enough to get into the car, we drive home in silence, the seats safely covered with towels. It is not an uncomfortable silence, but there is an unfamiliar tension between us. It is subtle, like when nature is holding its breath just before a storm breaks.

I chew on my bottom lip, overly aware of Ethan's hand covering mine, not even letting it go when he has to change gears. I know it is time for us to have a serious talk about our arrangement, but I really don't want to. I don't want our first date to be the last one. I want to stay here in the car with him for the rest of my life.

Well, I just really need to use the bathroom first, but after that, eternity won't be long enough.

"Kicks," Ethan says when he stops the car at our gate, and I don't move; I just sit quietly, staring at the small handbag lying on my towel-covered lap. He is still holding my hand, and there is a question in his voice. I don't know what he's asking, and I'm afraid that talking will end what we have now.

On the other hand, I'm afraid that not talking will cause us to do other things I know we shouldn't be doing because this is temporary. Kissing and cuddling are my enemies.

"Thank you," I finally say, pulling my hand from his. "That was really fun. Next time, it is on me."

Ethan paid for everything tonight, and it seems only fair that I cover the costs of our next date... if we have one.

"It was," he smiles, and his voice is still strange. "Kicks-"

"Good night, I'll see you tomorrow," I interrupt hastily and on impulse, I lean over and kiss him on the cheek so fast he doesn't have a chance to react. I'm out of the car and through the pedestrian gate before he can argue or insist on driving me to the front door.

I won that battle before he pulled up at the gate; there's no point in him driving all the way in and then having to reverse back out again. It's not the easiest driveway to handle in reverse. Seemed like way too much trouble to me; at least, that's what I told him. Actually, I'm afraid that I might invite him in... and then what?

I need to get away from him before I have a stupid meltdown; besides, he has to be up very early tomorrow to help his dad with the last bits of construction required in the town square.

I open our front door, and just before I step inside, I turn to look at the gate and wave at Ethan. He waves back, and now that he is sure I'm home safely, he puts the car in reverse and drives away. Has he always been this protective of me? I never even noticed it before. Perhaps I took it for granted.

I hear voices coming from the living room when I enter the foyer. Daddy is home, and he is watching TV. I didn't think I was going to see him at all tonight. I hurry up the stairs to take a quick shower so that I can give my father a sand-free hug. A wise decision because though the towels took care of the sand and water covering my exposed limbs, the bathroom floor receives a generous coating of sand the moment I start to peel off my clothes.

I'm happy to step under the warm spray of the shower, hoping to rinse all the troubling thoughts out of my head along with the sand stuck in my hair. No such luck! When I finally step out of the shower, my heart still pounds heavily each time my mind gets stuck on one of the sweet, new memories Ethan and I created today.

When I'm finally dressed in some comfortable PJs, running down the stairs two at a time again, I realise that the voices I'm hearing are not coming from the TV. Daddy is not alone. He is talking to Uncle Ian.

I am not quite ready to confront both men while my brain is still filled with visions of Ethan's smile and memories of his strong arms around me. Instead of entering the living room, I divert my course to the kitchen to make them some Milo. They both really love having a mugful before bed, and I need a moment to gather my crazy thoughts.

"I keep on telling myself to keep it together and not get so mad at him," Uncle Ian is telling my dad, his voice sounding so tired, it makes my heart cramp. "But before I realise what's happening, we're shouting at each other again, saying stupid things we don't even mean. I've pretty much destroyed our relationship."

"I hear you, Ian," Daddy soothes. "But your relationship with Ethan is much stronger than you think. The boy loves you."

"He's always been closer with Gem; at least they're still close."

It's true. Dell is the apple of her father's eye, and she has him wrapped around her little finger, and the same can be said of Ethan and their mom.

"I know, but that doesn't mean that you and your son are not close. You're alike in so many ways; you're bound to rub each other the wrong way occasionally."

I scoop a generous amount of Milo powder into three mugs and fill up the kettle, set it on its stand and switch it on to boil while I heat up some milk.

"He knows that you love him, Ian. He doesn't understand why you don't want him to join your company when he graduates. You guys have been talking about him doing that since he was born. I guess he feels rejected now."

"My company is tarnished, Joe. I'm dragging it back from hell. I don't want any of that to taint Ethe before he's even begun his career. If he takes the scholarship, Hummelton University is offering him; he could build himself a good name through rugby and strike out on his own when he graduates.

"He'll have his own reputation and his own name. He won't be tied into the bullshit I'm shovelling through. I don't want him involved with FG Construction. If he insists on settling in Summerfields, he'll always be bent under my miserable shadow, even if he is grabbed by Corbin Construction."

"You're serious?" Daddy exclaims, not sounding like my even-tempered father at all right now. "You'd rather have him work for your greatest competitor than have him join you?"

"Yes," Uncle Ian sighs heavily. "CC's reputation is clean."

"Ian! They're not half as good as you are, and everybody knows that. Clients are starting to return to you. Everybody knows that you were innocent. People still trust you."

"Most think that if I'm innocent, I'm an idiot with bad judgment... and they're right."

"You've come a long way, and Ethan will be studying for what? Four years? Loads can still change."

"Change is slow; I want him to be free, Joe."

"What about what he wants? Huh? He wants to be with you."

"He's naive..."

When the water boils, I pour some into each mug and stir to dissolve the powder before I add the warm milk.

"Know what I think, Ian?" Daddy asks.

"No," Uncle Ian chuckles softly, "but I'm sure you're gonna tell me."

"Damn straight, I am!" Daddy laughs. "I think that if you want to cut something loose, it shouldn't be Ethe; it should be that blooming G dragging you down."

"What?" I can hear that Uncle Ian is really baffled now.

"Cut the Green from your company name. He's gone. Good riddance. I always thought Fletcher and Son Construction would sound a lot better than FG Construction ever did."

Smiling, listening to their conversation shift to tomorrow's tasks Uncle Ian and Ethan will be involved in together, I agree with Daddy that the project will be good for the Fletcher men to bond again. They always loved building things together. They haven't done anything like that in ages. I hope that tomorrow's joint venture will do their scuffed relationship some good.

The men are happy to see me and the Milo when I finally join them. I spend a few minutes cuddling my father and chatting about our plans for the weekend while I drink my Milo, and then I wish them a good night.

I'm about to leave the living room when I stop and turn to Uncle Ian, where he's sitting on one of the recliners, looking tired and sad. On an impulse, I bend over and kiss his cheek, more or less in the same hurried way I'd kissed his son's earlier.

"Good night, Uncle Ian," I say and hurry down the hallway.

"What are you grinning about now?" I hear Daddy chuckle, and I smile when I hear the answer.

"I'm Uncle Ian."

♂♀