Page 99 of Ride the Wave

It lasted just under two weeks – very handily, my friend developed a crush on one of his friends, so she was happy to head to Dubrovnik with them after Hvar. It was the perfect holiday fling: we saw sights during the days, got drunk in the evenings, partied together at night – we fancied each other so much, we couldn’t keep our hands off one another. But then it was time for us to go our separate ways – he was going back to Paris, we were travelling on to Split and then Italy. We messaged each other for a while, but eventually, our contact fizzled out. It didn’t matter, though; it was better that way, better to cut ties before things got complicated and reality set in. He would always be up on a pedestal for me, though: a dream-like fantasy of a guy, the beautiful, perfect Romain.

I’ve always known that no romance could ever be as carefree and perfect as those two weeks in Croatia. I was wrong.

I was completely, fucking wrong.

Because my God, this past week with Leo has been mind-blowing. Like something out of a film, I feel like I’ve been living my very own romantic montage. All it needed was a Hall & Oates soundtrack, andbam,we’ve got it nailed.

We’ve spent as much time as we can together. I’ve been there at every surfing session, cheering him on, stealing kisses afterwards when his dad or his friends haven’t been looking. We’ve been on coffee dates that are under the guise of interviews for the article, his foot finding mine under the table, our hands lightly brushing against each other as we stroll home, each ‘accidental’ touch sending tingling jolts up my arm. I joined him at the gym for one of his workout sessions, which wasextremelypleasant to observe thanks to all the flexing and I think he found my fitness advice very helpful – ‘I think you need to do a few more press-ups, that’s it, oh yeah,veeerynice’ – and he let me accompany him to his yoga classes again.

‘Are you sure I won’t make your head go wobbly?’ I checked.

‘You already make my head wobbly,’ he replied casually, as though that wasn’t the most adorable thing to say. ‘Why not do it in those sexy leggings of yours?’

I smiled, blushing. ‘I wore that set in the hope you wouldn’t say no to an interview that night. And it worked.’

‘Course it worked.’ He shrugged. ‘I would have done anything you asked that night.’

I’d giggled and then later that day came to realise that watching Leo do yoga made myownhead very wobbly. And that night, like every night this week, we’ve had dinner together in his flat or mine, and no one has left at the end of it. Which means every morning, I’ve woken up in Leo’s arms.

And the sex. Oh my God,the sex.

It’s been a rarity that anyone has given me an orgasm before, but even rarer that they’ve wanted to badly. I’ve never had so many in such a short amount of time, definitely not with someone else at the helm. His attention and admiration make me feel amazing and I love pleasing him, instantly turned on at the idea of making him feel good. The sex is so fucking intense and incredible that I feel like I’ve been floating around in a dreamy haze for days. Whenever I’m not with him, I’m thinking about him, and when I am with him, I’m so buoyantly happy and excitable and obsessed that I can’t tear my eyes off him.

Yeah, I know. This is so more than a crush now.

I don’t know what it is.

But I do know what it can’t be.

Because it’s late Friday afternoon and I’m getting ready for my leaving party this evening at Marina’s Bar. It was her idea: nothing fancy or outrageous, just a few of the people I’ve got to know a bit better over the past few weeks gathering for a drink to bid me goodbye.

I’ve been dreading it. When I think about it, I feel sick. When I think about my flight tomorrow, it almost brings me to tears. It’s so ridiculous. This thing with Leo always had a sell-by date. It’s so wildly inappropriate and unprofessional, it shouldn’t have happened in the first place, so I have to count myself lucky to have got away with it. But I don’t. Instead, I feel so unlucky that I’ve found whatever this is with this person. Because with anyone else…

…it might be something.

*

When I arrive at Marina’s, Leo isn’t there. It’s a good thing, because I’m able to focus all my attention on everyone else rather than on the weighty feeling of sadness that sits low in my stomach whenever I think of saying goodbye to him.

‘She’s going to miss you, you know,’ Anna tells me, nudging Marina with her elbow.

I quirk my brow at Marina. ‘That so?’

She rolls her eyes. ‘All right, I admit it. You’re fun and it’s nice serving someone with good taste for once.’

Her comment elicits groans from her friends and I laugh before pulling her into a hug, telling her that I’ll miss her too. Adriano is there and I’m in the middle of a conversation with him when Leo finally shows up, greeted with a warm welcome from the surfers, while I linger next to his father, my breath catching at the sight of him, aching to be close to him.

‘It’s not right,’ Adriano says, hauling back my attention.

‘Sorry?’ I say, turning back to face him.

‘You leaving so soon,’ he explains. ‘You’ve settled into life here very quickly.’

‘Anyone would.’ I gesture out at the sunset casting a warm-orange glow over the beach. ‘It would be hard not to.’

‘I don’t know about that,’ he counters, to my surprise. ‘It’s not for everyone. But I’ve always said that people make a place, and I think you’ve enjoyed the people here. Or one person in particular.’

He raises his eyebrows at me and then jerks his head towards Leo, who is being handed some kind of mocktail that Marina has created whilst laughing along with the group at a story Anna is telling. My chest tightening in panic, I swallow the lump in my throat.

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