Now there's a twist I wasn't expecting!

Over the years, it had admittedly crossed my mind on more than one occasion that Lewis possibly did remember our past - he'd always proved himself to always have the very best poker face after all. However, I had never considered the fact that I was apparently also pretty talented when it came to hiding my feelings.

The night we were first reunited, I'd assumed my face had probably given away my betrayal; the mortification that my briefest of teenage crushes had no recollection of my existence. But now I come to think about it, if it had seemed obvious then Lauren would definitely have questioned me about it back then. Instead, she'd completely focused on Lewis' apparently uncharacteristic behaviour.

I had been as hard to read as he was.

And so he thought I didn't remember him. And was glad about it?

"I was an absolute mess at that age," he says now. I'm not even sure if he's addressing Dimitrios anymore or talking to himself. "I had my reasons, but I don't think I would have been any good for her." He sighs wistfully. "The very first second I saw her on that coach, though . . . I just knew I had never felt like that before."

I find myself briefly flashing back to that moment - his cheeky grin, the sudden sparklers in my heart as we made eye contact - and it makes me suddenly sad that we managed to get things so wrong for so long.

"It all worked out in the end, though, of course!" Dimitrios' voice is bright and cheerful, a direct contrast to the pain evident in Lewis' tone.

"Yeah." He sounds slightly lighter now. "I hope so."

Eek.

I feel the already familiar turn into the hotel's drive as we bump our way over the gravel, and decide it's time to deliver my Oscar winning performance - "Ruby Rafferty takes home the prize for 'Best Awakening From A Nap' scene!" What do you mean: "That's not a real thing!"? Trust me, they should make it one - my acting talents have been pretty much wasted up until now! I put everything into my portrayal of a woman roused from slumber. Everything!

"Good sleep?" Lewis' gaze is soft as he watches me 'stir' and rub at my eyes . "I thought I might have to carry you to the room if you didn't wake up."

Damn it - that would have been kind of hot, right? I briefly contemplate faking a fainting fit and decide it's probably too much drama for one day.

"What do you want to do next?" he asks me as we walk towards the suite, hands intertwined once more. It's almost second nature now, our bodies constantly gravitating towards each other, craving that skin-on-skin contact.

"Why don't we get some food delivered to the room?" I suggest. "I think we might need to chat some more."

I feel Lewis' sure steps falter slightly. "Surely we're all talked out for now?" He sounds nervous, and I wonder if he's on to me.

Fuck it, I may as well come clean.

"Lewis, I wasn't actually asleep for the last few minutes of the journey," I confess as we walk into the living room. "I heard you talking about us knowing each other from before."

Looking startled, he scrubs a hand along his scruffy jawline. "You do remember," he says softly, eyes widening in wonder. He drops down onto the sofa, shaking his head. "You were so good at pretending otherwise; you really had me fooled!"

I roll my eyes as I grab the bottle of Ouzo I bought two days previously along with two shot glasses, and settle down beside him. "Pot, kettle, etc," I sigh. "I mean, you acted like you didn't recognise me and then left with another girl. So I think your act definitely trumped mine."

His face falls. "I panicked, Ruby. I spotted you before you saw me, and I recognised you instantly. That girl at the bar had already been flirting with me, so I used her as an excuse to get out of there as quickly as possible."

"But why did you panic?" I ask, watching him carefully.

"Because it was all a bit overwhelming. Firstly, there was the fact that I hadn't seen you since the night my dad . . . well, now I know you do remember, then I'm assuming you worked out that was the night he passed away. So those memories all came flooding back for a start. Including the fact that I'd fooled around with your friend, knowing that it would probably get back to you." He winces. "I'm assuming you did know about that."

I nod, concentrating on pouring our drinks so I don't have to look at him. "I did. Rachel was very keen to tell me."

"Not my finest hour." He gratefully takes the glass I'm offering him. "My only excuse is that I had just found out my dad had died, and I had no way of getting home until the next day, so I felt like I was stuck in limbo . . . With the disadvantage of already knowing that I would be going to hell very shortly. I was already a bit drunk, and she was there, and I needed some sort of distraction." He chokes out a bitter laugh. "Unsurprisingly, it didn't work!"

"I thought about you a lot, you know," he adds, his voice lowering to a whisper. "For a long time after . . . Everything that happened. Thought about trying to look you up on social media. I always stopped myself. Figured you probably wouldn't want to know me anyway."

"I thought about you too," I admit, embarrassed. I take a sip of Ouzo, savouring the aniseed flavour, enjoying the pleasant burn as I swallow. "More than I probably should have. I couldn't believe it when you turned out to be Drew's friend."

"And that brings me back to that night three years ago," Lewis concludes. "I spotted you walking in, realised the Ruby from my past was Lauren's Ruby, and my heart just dropped into my stomach. My mind was fucking racing like Formula 1 while I was walking over to be introduced to you. I decided to myself to just play it cool, see if you recognised me. You didn't, and I couldn't work out if I was relieved or devastated. Probably a mixture of both, actually." He shrugs self-deprecatingly. "It seemed easiest to make my excuses and escape, but I almost instantly regretted acting like such an idiot."

"I was so hurt that you didn't remember me," I tell him quietly. "That's one of the reasons I've been so . . . Off with you over the years. You showed no hint of recognition, and I felt a bit dismissed at the way you immediately walked off and left with that girl."

We sit in silence for a moment. Then his hand curls into mine once again.

"You should know . . . I didn't even do anything with her," he says finally. "I took her to another pub, bought her one drink, and then I put her in a taxi before I went home. Alone."

Another brief pause.

"From pretty much the moment you came back into my life, you're the only girl I've been interested in," he adds, his gaze fixing on my face. "It didn't seem to matter how you treated me or the fact you apparently hated me . . . Anytime you were around, you were the only person I could see. And when you weren't around, you lived rent-free in my brain anyway - there's been no room for anyone else for a long time."

My heart stutters at the sincerity shining bright out of those dark eyes. These truths are terrifying, and I'm not quite sure I'm ready to deal with them. Everything he said to Dimitrios when he thought I was asleep . . . It wasn't an act. He wasn't reading from a script; he was tearing pages out of his own autobiography.

"I . . . don't know what to say," I say finally.

"I don't expect you to say anything," he counters. "I'm just being honest, the way I should have been all along." He sighs. "I don't expect anything from you either. If you can only see this as a . . . fling . . . then I'll accept that. It's not the way I want things to go, but I'll respect your decision."

"I just don't want to get hurt," I tell him. My voice feels really small of a sudden. "It's one of the reasons I stopped doing relationships in the first place."

He squeezes my hand tighter, pulling it against his heart. "I will never hurt you, Ruby Rafferty," he vows fiercely. "Regardless of what happens between us."

You could crush me, though.

He doesn't say that part out loud, but somehow, I still hear it, the words resting unspoken on the sofa between us. And I feel terrible because once again, he's letting all his vulnerability spill out, and I'm keeping most of mine neatly contained in a corner of the Scary Emotions Cupboard in my brain.

The thing is, I don't want to hurt him either. If I'm being honest with myself, the idea of doing that absolutely kills me.

So I guess, sooner rather than later, I'm going to have to decide what future role I'll be playing in that autobiography of his. Friend or foe. Girlfriend or girl-who-broke-his-heart. It's a lot of pressure.

And I suddenly understand why ghostwriters are so popular . . .

The last few chapters have been a little heavy, and for that, I apologise! Let's bring some fun for the next chapter, eh?

Hope you're still enjoying, though!