It's Saturday when I wake up in the guest room that Marc assigned for me. It is so light and airy, calm, quiet and relaxing, almost hotel-like. Having a profound hangover, so unusual for me, doesn't stop memories from the night before rushing back. I even remember dreaming of Sofia, or Nico, I can't be sure as I clumsily reach for the water on my bedside table to quench my thirst.

Today both families are supposed to be going to the beach. I can't think of a worse way to nurse my hangover than lying on the hot sand boiling in the obnoxious Valencian heat. I don't need a tan, I'm already brown enough and I can't swim, so thank you very much, but I don't need the beach in my life. I just want to stay in this comfortable bed and check football scores on my phone and sleep again until dinner time.

I also desperately want to forget that strange encounter from last night but I'm out of luck when Sonya drags me outside where the sun is high in the azure sky, already warming my skin as the white triangle-shaped sailboats dot the deep blue of the sea and the regular soft crush of waves remind me that I can't escape this. And I can't escape Nico Silva.

We don't talk. He drove to the beach separately, with Sofia, and since they arrived they didn't manage to talk to me. Again, it's the same family chaos of too many people talking over each other in Spanish, so I decide to distance myself with headphones in my ears and lyrics that are not in a foreign language.

But my eyes can't stop wandering. To him. In the light of the sun, his remarkable beauty is plain to see. Luckily my eyes are hidden behind my sunglasses, so he can't see me staring at him— his dark brown hair flowing and flicking around his face, those suntanned arms and legs, proud shoulders and sure strides. He is wearing a loose-fitting white linen shirt, unbuttoned so the bottom of the shirt is flapping around on the breeze, lifting and flashing his tight, smooth abs. His swimming shorts are too short and reveal well-toned thighs and even though I've seen all of him yesterday it takes me by surprise how transfixed I am with his appearance now. How come I've never found any other boy or some of my teammates I see half-naked in the locker room attractive?

All of us spend hours sunbathing, swimming, drinks from coolers are passed around, some are reading, others are in the shade of the parasol. I play cards with Sonya, Marc and his sister Ana, and Nico is playing with his little cousins, building sandcastles with them. His loud laughter is followed by the joyful screeching of children and I blink against the sun, bringing my hand up to shield my eyes and focus on him. This radiant and boyish side of Nico makes me smile involuntarily but I try to hide it and regain my usual efficient balance.

There is an air of mischief about him and palpable confidence that says he's unconcerned by the way people view him. And I realize that after I see him eating ice cream. He parts his lips, some of the creamy vanilla melts down the sides of his mouth as the rest slides down his fingers. His tongue sneaks out to lick his bottom lip. And I find the motion entirely distracting and so erotic.

Before I can turn my head away he looks at me and swipes his fingers over the liquid removing it from his mouth and chin, then sucking on it enough that his cheeks hollow slightly. And there's that swoop in my stomach again. I have no idea what this feeling is, my brain keeps stumbling over, trying to name it, but right now, whatever it is it definitely isn't welcomed. A few moments later I'm chest-deep in the sea trying to cool myself down, hoping these waves would take this feeling far away from me.

I remind myself that I shouldn't even like someone who takes as much selfies as he does. He is constantly on his phone, sharing every single moment of his day, tilting his perfect head to find the right angle and raking his fingers through that unruly hair in order to make it perfectly imperfect. I despise vain people. I'm sure I have nothing in common with a person like that. When he is applying sunscreen on Sofia's back and whispers something in her ear I frown and assure myself that I'm not interested in whatever the deal with these twins is. Sometimes being curious is a risk I don't want to take.

An amused smile is growing on his face. He feels me looking at him because he looks up from his phone suddenly and finds me watching him. I feel a jolt of electricity that surges from my heart straight to my groin which is unexpected and curious and not easy to understand. What is happening with me and this guy? I pray that he doesn't look down at my swimming shorts but unfortunately Nico gets up from his spot, shaking the sand off his body and making a show out of it. He approaches me slowly, predatory. And here he is, looming over me, the sun making a halo around his head and he plucks one of the headphones out of my ear.

"You look like you play some sports, London boy, care to join us for some beach volleyball?"He asks and his branded sunglasses can't hide his eyes that roam all over my body as I lay on a beach towel with one of my hands behind my head. Yes, I train hard, I have a body to show off too I just choose not to be vain as he does.

"My name is Jordan," my jaw is clenched hard and my nostrils flare.

"Sure. So, is that a yes?"

His two thin golden necklaces are hanging delicately from his chest and glinting in the sunlight and he smiles like he knows that I will accept. And those lips... Guys aren't supposed to have lips like that. Full and plump and pretty. They look like those Valencian orange wedges I ate—one of the sweetest best-tasting oranges in the world. I gulp when he sticks his tongue out and licks the seam.

I sit up, and it catches me off guard when I realize that I am at the eye level with his crotch. Instantly I forgot what I wanted to say, my gaze jumps up and I see that he is staring down at me with an expression I can't place. Luckily Sofia interrupts this agony I found myself in when she appears from behind Nico with a yellow ball perched on her hip. Her gaze goes back and forth between him and me, then she smiles wide, mischievous.

"You'll be in my team Jordan, okay?"

Nico doesn't say anything but the tension is evident all of a sudden as I get up and stand next to Sofia, taking the ball from her.

"Alright," I shrug, "I'll play for your team."

Sofia, Ana and I are on one side of the net and Nico has Marc and Beatriz on the other. We definitely have fun. It's so much harder to run in the sand which makes all of us fall countless times and laugh and not care about the actual score. I can admit that I don't hate the sun as much. I don't mind when Sofia touches me not so accidentally or talks to me like we know each other for much longer than two days.

What I mind are the looks Nico is giving me from the other side of the net whenever she's close to me because I want to know what kind of sick games these two are obviously playing with me and what it all means.