Spoiler alert: Ben and I did not 'do it'. He did, however, try his hardest to get close to me all night and—unfortunately—he succeeded in doing that, at least. But, just like every aspect of my life involving boys, not everything went quite to plan.

In fact, it went very much the opposite of what I'd expected.

As soon as dinner was over and we'd been released for our two hours of 'free time' before having to lock ourselves away in our rooms for the night, Ben attached himself to me and didn't let go. He sat with me in the rec room, resting his arm over the back of my plastic chair as we struggled through a painfully boring viewing of Forrest Gump, which was being projected onto the wood-panelled wall through an ancient machine that whirred the whole way through, making it difficult to hear what was being said anyway. (Not that I needed to hear it to know what was happening. I knew the damn film back-to-front, having seen it so many times at school.)

Anyway, throughout the whole film Ben wasn't the only one trying his hardest to get close to me. From the back row, I could hear constant giggling and low chuckling, and every time I twisted my head in their direction I caught sight of Thomas and Lizzie attached to each other—literally, all over each other—in their own chairs. It made me reconsider our decision to swap rooms, which frustrated me even further, not least because they both burst out into laughter so loud I missed the scene where Jenny shouts "Run, Forrest, run!", which has always been my favourite part of the film. I didn't even have that to cheer me up now. With the added fact that Ben kept whispering extremely weird things into my ear all the way through—for example, "I really, really like your hair," or, "You have really smooth knees when your legs are crossed. Do you know what I mean? Like, some girls' knees just go all weird and knobbly when they have their legs crossed, but yours don't do that. And you don't even have fat thighs..."—I was getting all red in the face and livid with the whole situation.

I'd never been happier to hear Hayley's over-enthusiastic voice call out to us all that it was time for bed. Before she'd even finished her speech, I was out of my chair and headed for the door, making sure I avoided eye-contact with Thomas or Lizzie the whole time. I could feel Ben following after me, and I heard him call goodnight to the others before we left the room, but I paid no attention to him. I wanted to get to the bedroom as fast as possible, even if I still had to put up with him there. Maybe I could lock myself in the en-suite bathroom for an hour or so...

No such luck. As soon as we entered the tiny room, Ben grabbed my hands in his and pulled me across to the bed with him. Smiling the whole time, he sat me down and then perched beside me on the duvet, watching me eagerly as though I was about to put on a show for him, or something.

"So..." He chewed his bottom lip, his eyes sparkling. "What do you want to do? We can't go to bed yet. It's only just past nine o'clock."

I shrugged my shoulders and smiled back, half-heartedly. "I don't know, Ben. I am pretty tired. I might take a shower and change into my pyjamas, if that's okay with you."

Ben held up his palms and shook his head. "I have no objections," he said, laughing. "Just as long as you promise to talk to me afterwards. I'm going to sit in here and wait for you. I didn't swap rooms just to be sent to sleep straight away, you know!"

I knew. And I cringed at the thought.

"Okay, Ben," I told him, standing up and walking over to my suitcase. "I'm going to be in here for a while. Don't miss me too much." I chuckled and grabbed my things, before dashing quickly into the bathroom and shutting the door tight behind me without getting a chance to hear his reply.

It wasn't that I didn't like Ben. As far as sixteen-year-old boys went, he was right up there at the top of the Hot List. I mean, he was attractive and under any other circumstances, he might have caught my eye. But my mind was set on one boy in particular—the boy who, at that very moment, was probably lying on top of Lizzie in a room downstairs. I couldn't possibly allow myself to do anything with Ben. I was going to stay loyal to my crush.

Or, at least, I thought I was. Turns out a lot can change in half an hour.

It was nearing ten o'clock when I finally emerged from the bathroom, sporting damp hair and my pink spotty dog pyjamas. Ben was lying on the bed, playing a game on his iPad, and he looked up as I walked in. I felt my stomach knot as he stared over my outfit and then caught my gaze.

"Hey." He smiled. "You took a while."

I smiled back and sat down on the bed, tugging at my wet hair in a bid to detangle it. "I've got a lot of hair to wash," I explained. "Besides, it was nice to relax for a while. Today's been stressful."

Ben sighed and sat up, tossing his iPad down onto the mattress beside him and crossing his legs beneath his body. "Why's that, Sophie?" he asked.

I fanned my lips. "Just...reasons."

Ben leant forwards a little. "Reasons involving Thomas and Lizzie, maybe?" he pried.

I looked at him. "What do you mean?" I asked, as if I didn't already know.

He grinned. "I notice you, Sophie," he said, matter-of-fact. "I see the way you and Thomas act around each other. I see the way you look at Lizzie whenever she's with him. I'm not stupid. It doesn't take a genius to figure out there's something going on between you two."

"There is nothing going on between me and Thomas," I snapped back, perhaps a little too defensively. "Christ, we weren't even friends before we came on this trip. I hadn't spoken to him since year seven!"

Saying this put things into a different perspective for me. For the first time, I actually thought about my words. I considered everything that had happened in the past few days, how much I'd misinterpreted. I thought about how Thomas had told me he'd jump into the pool to save anyone, and that it wasn't just a special thing he'd done for me. I thought back to the kiss in the cupboard, and how stupid I'd been to think that it actually meant something—as Thomas had said, it was just a game. And, more than anything, I thought about how Thomas had been acting with Lizzie all week. I had been an idiot all of this time. Of course I had no chance with Thomas Lester. I should not have bothered coming on this damn trip. He didn't want me, I was just another girl to flirt with.

"So, why are you holding yourself back?" Ben asked. He moved his arm forwards and placed a hand on my knee. I felt my stomach muscles clench.

"I'm not holding myself back from anything," I lied. "What do you think I'm holding myself back from?"

Ben moved much closer suddenly, and I felt my throat tighten. Uh-oh...

"Sophie," he said, eyes wide, "I've been trying to get close to you since I first spoke to you." You don't say, Ben... "But every time I get within distance of doing anything, you push me away. You think I don't notice, but I do. It makes me angry, Sophie. You know why?"

"Why?" I asked, my voice small.

"Because Thomas doesn't love you," Ben went on. "You're too tied up in this idea of him hiding some secret crush on you too. It's not going to happen, Sophie. You know it, and so does he. He wants a girl like Lizzie—a girl who isn't afraid to confess her crush for...well, years, from the sound of things." Ben sighed and looked down at the mattress. "I'm sorry, Sophie, but you're not like that. I think you just need to forget about him and concentrate on the people who do want to spend time with you, instead."

I bit my lip. He was right. Of course he was right. Everything he'd just said made absolute sense: I wasn't the type of girl boys like Thomas Lester went for. I made no effort on my appearance and my personality sucked. The only friendship I had with him was forced, thanks to coming on this trip, and I knew for a fact I'd never speak to him again once this whole thing was over.

And right there, sitting before me, with his brown eyes staring up into my own, was my one shot at getting myself an actual love interest. That is, the sort of love interest who was genuinely interested back, as opposed to the secret crush-type I was used to.

"I'm sorry, Ben," I said, feeling guilty now. Suddenly, his hand on my leg didn't feel so intrusive. In fact, it felt nice to know that I had someone's attention. "If I've acted off with you, I really haven't meant to. I've just been distracted."

"Too distracted," Ben agreed. He placed his other hand under my chin and tilted my head upwards, so that I was looking directly into his face. "I like you, Sophie. Please, tell me, do you like me too?"

I studied him for a moment. His brown hair was pushed back on his forehead, styled into place, and the colour made his eyes melt. He was good-looking. Very good-looking. Extremely good-looking. And he wanted me. Did I really need to ask myself if I liked him? Of course, I knew the answer already.

"I like you, Ben," I told him—simple as that. The words fell out of my mouth as easily as if I'd just told him my name.

For a second, Ben remained motionless. My heart stopped as I thought about what I'd just said. But then, in a fleeting moment, he moved forwards and kissed me. And it was a proper kiss. He didn't knock my teeth and I didn't bite his lip. His mouth moulded against mine in just the way it should do. I imagined we looked just as perfect as Jack and Rose in Titanic, in that scene where Rose is just about to leave Jack to die... Wait, did they kiss in that part? I can't remember. Either way, I'm sure the whole thing looked perfect.

It felt great, too. We kissed for what felt like forever—much longer than I imagined anyone would want to kiss for. But I understood quickly why people enjoyed kissing so much: it felt so nice. Especially when, after we'd figured out that tricky tongue situation, Ben began to move his kisses down onto my neck, too. And then his hands gripped me around the waist and he pushed me onto my back. And then he knelt up above me and continued to kiss me. And then his hands started running over my legs. And then I started really enjoying myself and began to breathe a lot heavier. And then suddenly my hands were running over his body, too. And then somehow his trousers were undone and he was placing my hands against his boy parts. And then the door opened and Thomas walked in.

Oh, crap.

"Oh, my God!" he was saying, running his hands through his hair, face bright red. "Oh, that's disgusting. Oh, bloody hell. What are you two doing? Oh. My. God." His eyes locked on mine for a second, as I struggled to push Ben away from me, and then he turned around and walked right back out of the room again.

"Just great!" I cried, throwing myself off the bed in despair. I landed on my feet and hurried to adjust my pyjamas, before dashing to the door and running out after him. "Thomas!" I hissed, forced to keep the noise down in case one of the staff heard the commotion and decided to be curious. "Wait!"

He was walking fast down the corridor, towards the staircase leading to the rest of the bedrooms, but when he heard my voice his head whipped around. It was dark in the corridor, the only slant of light shining through the window at the opposite end, but I was sure I could see a wetness behind his eyes that wasn't normally there.

"Thomas, wait!" I hissed again, quickening my pace to catch up with him. "I'm sorry! You shouldn't have seen that."

Thomas stopped and spun around. "Damn right I shouldn't have seen that!" he said, voice shallow.

In a moment of sudden anger, I fought back. "What were you even doing in the room? We did a swap, remember?! You're supposed to be downstairs with Lizzie for the night!"

"I don't—!" Thomas began, and I watched as his lip quivered. He grabbed the tops of my arms with his hands and I flinched. "I don't want to stay down there with her!" he hissed, shaking me slightly. "It's getting too uncomfortable. I want to swap back." He loosened my arms and let his own fall down by his sides. Exhaling, he continued. "But, obviously, you two are quite comfortable in there."

I shot a steely glance at him. "It meant nothing!" I said to him, my voice trembling. "Just like our kiss last night. Remember?"

Thomas let out a sharp burst of laughter and shook his head. "Oh, my God, Sophie. You are so—" He pressed his hands to his face, covering his expression. I placed my hands on my hips.

"I'm so what?" I asked him. "Go on! Tell me."

Thomas removed his hands slowly and pressed his gaze into me. "You," he said slowly, "are so frustrating. And indecisive. And hard to figure out. And just damn difficult."

I stared hard at him. "You don't have any right to talk to me like that, Thomas Lester," I told him, equally as slowly. "You're just a boy. We're not even friends. You've never told me any of the stuff Ben just told me in there. Our kiss was all just a game. It meant nothing. That—" I gestured towards the room again, "—meant something. It wasn't a game. And who are you to judge me for allowing myself to enjoy it?"

Thomas let out a low laugh. He bowed his head for a second, and then looked back up at me with glassy eyes. "You know, I'm just going to go back downstairs to Lizzie," he said. "I clearly enjoy her company much more, anyway. And, for the record, forget I ever said anything to you, Sophie." Thomas turned around and shrugged. With one final look back at me, he said pointedly, "We're not even friends."