Sleep evades me for most of the night.

Despite the obscene comfort of that luxurious bed, I find myself restlessly tossing and turning until dawn, my brain racing with too many thoughts, and only then do I finally fall into a heavy and apparently dreamless coma-like state.

When I eventually arise from the dead, it's 10.30 a.m. already, and Lewis appears to have kept his promise: I see no trace of him in the suite. I find myself slightly disappointed about that - which is a little surprising given he is the precise reason I couldn't sleep. I kept replaying that wounded expression on his face after I made my unnecessarily mean comment last night. And then the look in his eyes when he'd dropped that unexpected compliment bomb.

And those words? They had shattered me, affecting me in a far different way than they had when Milos had voiced them. I don't think Lewis had ever said anything so sweet to me, and I doubt anything out of his mouth had ever rang with that much sincerity. That one sentence caused a feeling I couldn't quite identify to bubble and fizz in my chest, and that made me immensely uncomfortable. Maybe, I'd thought at one particular point during the night, slightly delirious from lack of sleep, I need to Google heart attack symptoms.

It's official - Lewis Sheridan has finally got sick of merely attempting to bait me and is now trying to kill me . . . with kindness.

And, even more annoyingly, I might like it.

God!!!

Desperate to give my messed-up mind a much-needed wake-up call, I race towards the patio doors, flinging my pyjama top and bottoms off as I go like a travel influencer filming a silly Tiktok, and throw myself head first into the pool in nothing but my knickers. Let's call it the equivalent of a cold shower since the sun hasn't yet had an opportunity to warm it up today.

It doesn't work, of course, and I immediately panic that Lewis will return unexpectedly and catch me. So, after approximately ten seconds of cold water therapy/torture, I clamber back out and wrap a towel around myself, shivering uncontrollably.

After I've dried off and dressed, I finally notice the plate sitting on the kitchen counter. It holds a delightfully flaky croissant, accompanied by tiny portions of both butter and jam and a small bunch of grapes. And there's a note, penned in Lewis' messy but surprisingly legible scrawl.

Just in case you're hungry when you wake up. :-)
- L

He must have gone to breakfast without me and brought this back before he left for the day.

Why is he doing this? It's like a whole new form of torture!

But I am hungry (damn him!), so I spread the butter and jam over the pastry and devour it, only briefly wondering if he's poisoned it.  (Come on, I know I hate him, but I don't actually think he's capable of murder!)

As I pop a grape in my mouth (dessert!), my phone begins to vibrate on the worktop. A video call from Lauren.

"Are you both still alive?" That's her first question when I answer. It looks like she's dressed in her gym gear - she's one of those crazies who actually gets up early on the weekend to "get her workout out of the way". Then, she often follows that up with a hike up a mountain. Sometimes, I'm not entirely sure why we're friends. "I know we always said we'd be there for each other if we needed to bury a body, but I don't think geography is on my side in this case!"

I giggle, delighted to have her virtual company. "You'll be relieved to know we're both still breathing . . . For now. He did try to drown me in our private pool yesterday, though." That's odd . . . I was so mad about that at the time, but now the memory of it actually makes me smile slightly. Argh!

"Ooh, you need to give me the tour!" Lauren insists, ignoring my last comment and clapping her hands excitedly. "Let me live the high life vicariously through you."

"Of course!" I actually welcome the chance to make her jealous: I'm determined to make her rue the day she applied for this competition in my name rather than her own! Sliding off my stool, I take my phone on a leisurely walk around the suite, gratified by her envious moans as I point out the pool, the view, the waterfall shower, the bathtub, the bed . . .

"So there really is only one bed!" Lauren sounds practically gleeful. If she had a moustache, she'd be twirling it around her finger right about now. "And how is that working out for you?"

I sigh. "I thought I'd have a fight on my hands over the bed, to be honest, but you'll be amazed to know that Lewis was a total gent and insisted I take it. He's been sleeping on one of the couches in the living room."

"That doesn't actually surprise me at all," Lauren responds with a smile. Her voice softens. "I know the pair of you have never really gelled, but he's a good guy, Rubes. You honestly should give him more of a chance."

"I'm trying," I groan. "But he's being so confusing!"

Lauren's eyes narrow. "What do you mean?" She asks.

I try desperately to put my fractured thoughts into words. It's not easy. "I don't really know how to explain. It's like . . . He'll be the same way he's always been with me - his usual pain in the arse self - then suddenly it's like a switch flips, and he's a different person. Sweet. Serious. Sort of shy? Last night, he even . . ." I trail off, almost scared to repeat what he said. As if talking about it cheapens it somehow?

"Rubes?" Lauren prompts me, her face curious. "What did he do?"

"He told me I looked perfect," I blurt out in a rush, and Lauren's mouth drops open. "But I think he only said it to get one-up on Milos!" I hurry to add. Even though I'm still struggling to mentally suppress the memory of the intensity in his gaze; the tentative smile that curved his lips. And the bolt of heat that shot me directly in the gut.

I'm sure she mutters "Milos," darkly under her breath at that point, but I must be delusional because she then asks me who Milos is, her face the picture of innocence as I explain.

"Sounds like Hotel Dude is into you," she concludes, raising her eyebrows. "The question is, are you into him?"

I shrug. "Milos is  ridiculously hot and sweet, and he actually seems to like me . . . But it's not like I can exactly do anything about it, considering I'm here as the winner of a couples' competition."

"Yeah. It would be a bad idea, for sure. I definitely don't think you should go there!" Lauren nods firmly along with her own words. Now that's really unlike her - she's always trying to get me to date more and (at the risk of sounding like we're contestants on Love Island) "explore connections".

"You're probably right," I say, a little reluctantly. I guess I must have been hoping for her approval; for her to tell me I wasn't completely insane to even consider I could potentially have something with Milos. But deep down, I know that the situation is an impossible one.

Lauren checks her watch. "Anyway, I need to boost - spin class awaits. Just remember what I said about Lewis, okay? Love you!" And my phone screen goes black before I can say another word.

"That was weird," I mutter to myself as I wander back out to the pool and settle down on a sun lounger. Why do I feel like there's something Lauren isn't telling me?

Not that I can be too self-righteous about it if she is.

After all, there's something I've been keeping from her, too . . .

Hmm . . .

So, as you know, I've been aiming to just complete a chapter a week for this story and not put too much unnecessary pressure on myself.  However, since my longer-than-usual (by my standards, anyway) chapter this week practically wrote itself a few days ago, I figured I had time to add a second smaller chapter as a little bonus! Hope you enjoyed it. ❤️

Did anyone else kinda miss Lewis, though? Me too! I hope he comes back soon . . .