Something you need to tell me? 😜x

On the island of Spinalonga, an hour or so later, I stare at Lauren's WhatsApp message, slightly perplexed by its contents. I rapidly fire back a response, asking her what the heck she's on about before I pocket my mobile and try to pay attention to our tour guide. It seems slightly disrespectful to the island to be distracted by my phone, given its sad history.

Spinalonga is strangely beautiful, but I really can't get past the fact that it was last used as a leper colony. I'm visiting here voluntarily (well, in an "enforced fun" sort of way, but you know what I mean); however the last actual inhabitants of the island would have effectively been trapped here, only a short distance from the rest of civilisation, until they were cured . . . Or not. The very thought makes me tear up a little.

When the guide tells us that the islanders ended up forming a very strong community despite the hardships they experienced, I feel slightly better. And even a little grateful about my own situation - sure, I'm stuck with Lewis for another week, but at least I can mostly just walk away from him whenever I feel the urge to kill him!

At the moment, I'm doing a pretty good job of avoiding him, staying on the other side of the tour group. However, I can still see him out of the corner of my eye - mainly thanks to that ridiculously loud shirt. But I'm also just hyper-aware of him for some unknown reason, my senses seeming to heighten anytime he moves into my forcefield. Nerves jangling, skin prickling. It's very unsettling.

At the moment, he is using his charms on a sweet old lady on the same tour, who seems to be trying to present him with a somewhat dog-eared paperback book. He's protesting, but she's insistent, pressing it into his hands and nodding her head. He eventually accepts the gift, and the grin he gives her in response is warm and sweet, and bears no resemblance to the smirk I'm normally privy to.

But this makes my mind suddenly flash back to Friday night, and that shy smile he gave me seconds before he told me I looked perfect. Sure, he'd basically just did the grown-up equivalent of borrowing Milos' homework and copying it . . . But the expression on his face still haunts me. My brain keeps burrowing a tunnel back to the memory, replaying it frequently as if trying to find the catch.

Maybe there was no catch? That little voice inside my head is niggling at me again. I wish I could silence it. Maybe he actually meant it?

I can't allow myself to think that.

Our eyes meet again, across a crowded tour group in a former leper colony (oh so very romantic, right?), and that makes it the second time today that he's busted me looking at him. He really is going to start getting the wrong idea at this rate. There's no triumph in his gaze this time, though. If anything, he looks a little bit . . . Sad? Then he seems to recover himself, flashes that smirk in my direction once again, and turns back to the tour guide, abruptly ending the contact.

I walk away from the others to admire the view, my heart racing. The water is such a beautiful shade of turquoise right now, and crystal clear around the edges of the island. I stare intently at it, allowing the gentle waves flood my brain, taking deep breaths to calm myself down.

I don't know what's wrong with me, but I just know it's Lewis' fault!

The next part of the boat trip involves dropping anchor in the middle of the sea, so anyone who wants to can have a cooling dip. I'm not sure I want to do that - I have no idea how deep it is at this point, and I've never really been a massive fan of swimming in open water. I also watched Adrift way too recently - you know that terrible film from the early noughties where the idiots on the boat jump off without lowering the ladder first, then can't get back on? What a mistake that was: not only was it a whole 94 minutes of my life that I wouldn't get back, but I also unlocked a whole new fear in the process!

Lewis chooses that moment to plonk himself down beside me, and suddenly, an Adrift type situation seems far more appealing. "That was a pretty cool tour, eh?" He says, slouching down in the seat and stretching out his legs. I definitely don't notice how tanned and muscular they are. "One of the ladies on the tour gave me this novel - apparently, it's a must-read if you're visiting Spinalonga." He holds the paperback from earlier out to me - it's called The Island by Victoria Hislop.

"I'm not going to read it to you," I tell him wearily, but even I can tell the usual bite isn't present in my words. "You should have learned how to read by yourself by now."

He chuckles. "I know it might surprise you, Rubik's Cube, but I actually love books. And I learned to read years ago. When I was . . . 21, maybe?" He winks at me, and I laugh despite myself.

"I'm not sure it's my usual type of read," he continues, pulling the book back towards him and flipping through it. "I'm more of a crime guy, really. But I'll give it a go. What about you?"

"What about me?" I squint at him, puzzled.

"You've always got your nose stuck in your Kindle - what's your literary poison?" He nods at the device sitting on top of my bag.

"Mostly just light romance, to be honest. I like easy reads, a bit of escapism." I shrug, slightly embarrassed to admit it. I'm sure Lewis will probably tease me for this, too.

Instead, he nods thoughtfully. "Makes sense. Love always seems simpler in fiction. Guy meets girl, guy likes girl, girl likes boy, they get together. Sure, there might be a bit of push and pull, and it might take a while, but things always somehow work out in the end." He's staring out to sea as he speaks, and he sounds slightly wistful. I guess some girl must have done a number on him in the past. Whatever happened, he probably deserved it.

"Wow. I didn't have you down as a romantic," I say teasingly, and he turns towards me in response.

"There's a lot you don't know about me," he says softly, and his face is suddenly so serious that I temporarily lose my air supply. "You . . ." He swallows hard. "You've never really tried to get to know me." And there's that hint of defeat again.

He's right, I realise with a start. I really haven't. I mean, I didn't even know what he did for a living until two days ago. No wonder he seemed a bit put out!

"You're right. I'm sorry," I mumble, tearing my eyes away from his before his gaze devours me whole.

A brief silence, loaded with tension, falls between us before he breaks it.

"Maybe we should talk about what happened last night." His voice is still quiet as he metaphorically tears the lid off Pandora's box.

I stiffen. "Is there anything to talk about?" I ask, forcing myself to keep my voice even. "We were asked to pose for a photo, and we did what was asked of us. I think that pretty much sums it up, don't you?"

He sighs, frustration radiating from every pore. "Really, Ruby? That's all you have to say on the subject?"

"I don't know what you expect me to say," I hiss back. "We kissed; we didn't exactly have a choice in the matter. Subject closed."

"I was going for a brief peck on the lips," he replies, his voice heated. "You're the one who chose to extend it. And I don't understand why when you're meant to hate me so much!"

The sea suddenly seems like the safest option after all, so I kick off my flip-flops and start opening the buttons that run down the front of my sundress. "We're not discussing this any further," I tell him, looking in his direction but unable to meet his eyes. "I'm getting in the water."

I leap off the side of the boat, letting the sea absorb my humiliation as I drop like a stone. I'd really hoped that, in the heat of the moment, Lewis wouldn't have realised it was my fault the kiss had escalated. But, of course he had. The guy misses nothing.

When my head breaks the surface, I find he's jumped in beside me. "Really?" He says again. "You actually just threw yourself overboard to avoid this conversation?"

And my embarrassment is complete.

"Look, I got carried away last night, Lewis," I tell him firmly. "I was trying to ensure Milos and Maria were fooled. And I hadn't been kissed in a long time." Oops - that part just slipped out! My cheeks explode with heat.

His face, previously the picture of exasperation, softens at my last words. "Me neither," he admits, much to my surprise.

"Really?"

He nods. "It's been . . . A few years."

"Wow. I guess you aren't as good with the ladies as I assumed," I snigger. He smiles, but it seems forced.

"Something like that."

Our eyes meet again, and I'm confused by the unhappiness I see in the depths of those dark irises. He looks away as he huffs out another sigh. Enough talking, the sigh seems to say.

"I think I've cooled down enough now," he says, turning his back on me. And then he swims back to the boat without another word.

Hey! So yet another chapter has practically written itself, and I'm already wondering what might happen next . . . Any ideas? 🤔

Hope you enjoyed! ❤️