I've never been good at lying.

Obviously, that's a good thing . . . Most of the time! Not right now, though, when I've been completely blindsided by Milos' question.

"Wh - What do you mean?" I stammer. Milos chuckles softly.

"I would love to say my staff are discreet, but unfortunately, they are huge gossips. They talk. They find it . . . odd that Lewis keeps leaving you for hours at a time and wandering off by himself, and they suspect one of you isn't sleeping in the bed you are meant to be sharing."

I silently curse both Lewis and myself for not thinking to clear the spare bedding he was using away. The cleaners must have spotted it on one of their daily visits.

"He gets antsy sitting around, and I prefer to chill by the pool," I say lightly. The bed situation is harder to justify, though, I think desperately to myself. "And I . . . Snore?" I offer eventually. Milos shakes his head, clearly not buying it.

Oh god. Are we going to be sent home in disgrace for lying? I don't think we've committed a crime or anything like that, but I didn't really read the small print since Lauren and Drew claimed they already had. My heart is thudding frantically against my ribs, and I wonder if he can hear it.

"I can explain . . ." I start, although I have nothing further to say. Do I tell him the truth? Will he understand? Thankfully, he interrupts.

"Your relationship is . . . I think you call it 'on the rocks', yes?" he concludes, a concerned frown creasing his forehead. Relief courses through my blood, and I grasp onto his theory tightly and eagerly.

"You've got it," I nod. I school my expression into a suitably sombre one. "Lewis and I . . . Well, we've been struggling to get along for a while." Technically, not a lie. "We saw winning this contest as a sign - it would make us or break us."

"And you're still not sure?" Milos asks. He seems to catch himself at this point and shakes his head apologetically. "I'm sorry. This is really none of my business. I just . . . care."

Okay, this is becoming awkward: it feels like Milos is way too invested. The fact that he's even asking these (slightly inappropriate) questions means I've definitely given him the wrong idea.

"Yeah, I'd prefer not to go into too much detail," I nod, taking his apology as a way to escape this particular topic. "But you're right: I'm still not certain which way it's going to go. We've been getting on better, though, so there may still be hope for us." As I speak, I'm very aware that there's a large percentage of truth in this so-called falsehood too.

Another realisation is that I'm actively trying to push Milos away now. If he'd said all this a few days ago, maybe it would have been a different story. But I don't want to encourage him at all anymore, and I'm not entirely sure why.

I think Milos realises this, too, as there's the slightest hint of defeat in his next words. "Well, there's no better place than our hotel to recapture the magic!" He reaches across the table and briefly rests his hand on mine reassuringly. "I'm sure you will find your answers while you are still in Crete."

He changes the subject then, asking my thoughts on the boat trip the previous day, and Spinalonga, and I'm almost relieved to note the flirty vibe between us has completely vanished now. We chat companionably about Greece in general as we finish our drinks and wander back towards the car.

Lewis is already nearby; on a bench, staring out at the sea. Even in profile, his expression seems dark. When he glances around and spots us coming towards him, his eyes narrow. "Hey," he says, his voice flat, as he stands. His mood has definitely shifted from earlier, and I'm not entirely sure why . . . But I guess me being with Milos might have something to do with it!

"Did you find something for your mum?" I ask brightly, suddenly desperate to find some common ground, to put some sort of smile back on his face . . . Even that bloody smirk I pretend to hate! His brief nod gives nothing away.

"Yeah. I'll show you later."

"We need to talk," I hiss in his ear as we're about to get in the car. I definitely have to give him a heads-up about what I told Milos: we need to have our stories straight just in case.

"I agree," he says grimly.

Why does it always feel like every time we turn a corner, there's yet another speed bump up ahead? We were actually getting on well for a change, and now he seems annoyed again. If Milos didn't already think we were on the rocks, the tension humming between us in the car now would be a dead giveaway.

Our second stop of the day is Agia Pelagia, a lovely beach resort, and by the time we get there, I'm practically jumping out of my skin with anxiety. "I need to go back to the hotel," Milos tells us before we exit the car. "But I will return around five o'clock to pick you up."

"Great. See ya." Lewis slams the door and stalks underneath the "I Heart Agia Pelagia" sign, heading towards the sand. Shooting Milos an apologetic look, I hurry after him.

"What's with the attitude, Sheridan?" I snap when I catch him up. "I thought we were trying to be friends here?" He grinds to a halt, refusing to look at me, fists bunched tightly at his sides. Takes a deep breath.

"I saw you," he says eventually. "In that restaurant with him. Holding hands."

Oh.

Is that hurt in his voice? For some reason, I feel instantly terrible for causing that, even if he has gotten completely the wrong end of the stick.

"We weren't actually holding hands, Lewis!" I tell him urgently. It suddenly feels really important that he knows that. "There's nothing going on there. Milos literally stroked my hand for two seconds. We were actually talking about us. Me and you. He thought he was comforting me." His body relaxes slightly, and he turns towards me, dark eyes sparking with curiosity.

"What do you mean?"

I nod towards a quiet cafe. "Let's grab something to eat, and I'll fill you in."

We order some ice cream, and then I explain Milos' assumption that we're trying to save our relationship. "I just went along with it," I add. "It seemed the easiest option."

He sighs. "When I saw you together, it felt . . . " He trails off, tanned cheeks reddening. "I just thought you were going to blow our cover, that's all."

I don't really believe that. But I don't want to pry further because I'm frightened of what he might say. Since I've got the Milos drama out of the way, I find myself now focusing solely on the fact that our friends think Lewis actually has feelings for me, and the way he's acting right now is cementing those suspicions. And instead of being irritated by the jealous boyfriend routine, like I've been in the past, I'm finding myself enjoying it. In much the same way that I seem to be liking him more and more by the day. It's immensely unsettling.

"Well, the plan remains the same . . . It just means we don't need to put on the happy couple front as much," I point out. It's time for a necessary reality check for both of us!

Lewis smiles sadly, vulnerability kaleidoscoping in his eyes. "That was probably my favourite part of this whole mess, actually."

I decide it's wisest to breeze right past that comment.  "So now we're friends again, will you show me what you bought your mum?" I say instead.

He pulls a small paper bag out of his rucksack. "I went with this necklace in the end." He twirls an ornate purple heart strung on a delicate silver chain between his fingers, and I bend forward to examine it.

"That's so pretty. She's going to be so pleased," I tell him. I'm now seriously regretting not returning for the turquoise bracelet I liked. The jewellery in that store was just gorgeous, and I'll probably never see anything like it again.

He replaces the chain in the bag and removes something else, which he carefully places on the table in front of me. "I also got this for you," he says quietly.

The bracelet.

I suddenly feel like crying. "You didn't have to do that," I whisper, staring at it in surprise.

"I know I didn't have to . . . But I wanted to," he states simply. "I could tell how much you loved it."

"Thanks." That word doesn't seem enough somehow, but it's all I have. The hardened bitterness encasing my heart is starting to soften, pulling itself away, revealing feelings that I'd buried a long time ago - a metaphorical treasure chest full of confusing emotions. When he raises his eyes to meet mine, I can barely hold his gaze. I'm terrified he might read the same thing on my face that I can clearly see on his - the hope.

Like I said earlier, I've never been good at lying.

Except, apparently, to myself.

Are we finally getting somewhere???

I hope you are continuing to enjoy the story! My updates have slowed down a little as we progress through the story, and I try to loosely plot my characters' next moves, but hopefully, you won't hold that against me!😊

I would love to know how you're feeling about our heroine and hero at this point!