Figured you could use a bit of space to think, so I've headed out for the day. I'll see you later.
- L x

I had the best sleep I had in a long time last night. Unfortunately, Lewis had performed a vanishing act when I woke up this morning, leaving only a note and the usual croissant in his place, and the suite now seems somehow empty without him.

It's probably very thoughtful of him to clear out, since he obviously can tell my brain is all over the place at the moment, but I'm typically annoyed all the same; the realisation quickly dawns on me that it was because I actually wanted to spend this free day we have with him, rather than hover in this Lewis-free limbo I now find myself trapped in. That revelation, in turn, then makes me angry at myself: I've never been good at dealing with big feelings.

I listlessly swim lengths in the pool before flinging myself on a lounger and trying to enjoy my current book. It's an enemies-to-lovers story where the lead characters have been unexpectedly forced to spend time together . . . Sounds familiar, right? It's all a bit too meta for me, and I need to stop reading. Funny how these plots seem so clear-cut when you're reading them, rather than living them.

They say there's a fine line between love and hate, but what happens when you finally reach the conclusion that you never really hated someone? You find yourself going back over memories, unpicking each interaction, and finding Easter eggs you'd never spotted previously. These clues had been hidden in plain sight, but the filter you'd been using previously concealed them.

I remember all the times on group nights out where my eyes would (apparently unwillingly) seek him out, and be surprised to find he was already there, waiting for me to join him: his lips would usually already be schooled into that classic smirk but occasionally his guard would be down and something unidentifiable would be flashing in his expression. I never let myself examine what it could mean, as that . . . blip would usually immediately pass with a blink of those beautiful eyes, or one hand scrubbing down his handsome face like a motion detected off-switch had been activated. Poker face: enabled.

I then revisit what Lauren had pointed out to me - travelling back in my mind, with the exception of that first meeting (as adults, obviously), I piece together parts of conversations Lewis tried to start up with me over the years, and it's clear now he was trying to get to know me better, albeit in his own special teasing "Lewis-coded" way. But I had just felt so rejected by him, so forgotten . . . And so my brain rapidly developed a special - and extremely niche - talent, one which allowed me to twist anything and everything he said and assign him the role of bad guy.

He did eventually give up trying to be nice to me - Lauren wasn't wrong there - but even when he started verbally sparring with me instead, it didn't seem nasty or bitter. It just felt like he'd finally decided to play at my level rather than trying to raise the bar any higher.

And that night where my drink was spiked by the random arsehole who was trying to chat me up? I had only been standing alone in the first place because I'd watched a beautiful girl with an extremely impressive flirt game try to work her magic on Lewis, and it had just reminded me too much of the night where he'd failed to remember me and left with the gorgeous redhead. I'd had to walk away from the group in an attempt to try to regain my composure, and that was when the sleazy guy had tried to make his dodgy move on me.

But Lewis had been paying attention to me all along that night. Watching me, looking out for me, making sure I was safe. Just like he always had 

Despite not remembering our original meet-cute, he clearly cares a lot about me.

And I care about him too. It's just taken me a long time to move out of the denial zone I've been parked in for years. But stricter restrictions have finally kicked in, and I'm about to end up with a massive fine if I don't journey elsewhere.

Maybe it's time to tell Lauren I had sex with Lewis. Twice. Get her take on that? I pick up my phone and rapidly type a message to her, hoping she'll be free.

S.O.S!!! x

Her confusing reply comes back a few minutes later.

Don't worry, babe. I'm all over it. x

Huh?

What are you on about?x

A response is fired back almost immediately.

Davie and Melissa's comments on that Insta post. With the kiss? I've already contacted them both asking them to remove them immediately!x

Hands trembling, I hop onto the hotel's Instagram grid again, trying not to stare too hard at Lewis' face in that first photo. He really is a distractingly handsome bugger. Scanning down the comments, I quickly spot the ones Lauren is referring to.

Davie and Melissa, a couple who are part of the same social group as all of us, albeit on the periphery, have had a little discussion about Lewis and myself in the comments section. One they could have probably just had in private. But, to be honest, they've always been stirrers, so I'm not surprised it's them!

Thought these 2 h8 each other? Davie has tagged Melissa in his question.

So did I?? Since when are THEY a couple? Melissa's reply is equally damning.

This HAS 2 b fake! Another beautifully composed rejoinder from Davie takes the fear factor and cranks it up another notch.

Oh, great! If Maria or Milos see these comments, we're screwed. They also blow Milos' theory and our only cover to smithereens. For the second time in less than 24 hours, I'm thrown into a panic.

I spend the next few minutes checking and re-checking the comments, and shortly afterwards, they disappear, much to my relief. Lauren calls me moments later.

"The comments are gone," she tells me redundantly. "Neither one of those twats have replied to me yet, though - probably too embarrassed. They only posted them last night, so hopefully, not too many folk saw them!"

"Fingers crossed!" I exhale a shaky breath of relief. But Lauren isn't finished.

"So what exactly was your S.O.S. message about? Because I realised pretty quickly you had no idea about the Instagram drama until I told you."

So I finally spill. Absolutely everything. From the very beginning, all those years ago, to the past two nights of amazing sex. Truth gushes from my mouth like a burst water main, and I can practically feel Lauren's shocked silence through the phone.

"That is a lot to unpack," she says finally when I take a breath long enough for her to insert any words of her own into the conversation. "And you've just made me late for a meeting. It was totally worth it, don't get me wrong; but I really need to go. Talk later?"

"You're not mad at me, though? For not telling you I knew Lewis before?" I check anxiously.

"Of course not," she tuts. "I actually understand why you didn't, to be honest. It is embarrassing."

Jeez, thanks, Lauren! But when I put the phone down, it feels like someone has lifted a heavy dumbbell off my chest: I'd barely noticed it was there, probably because I'd been living with it for so long. But now it's gone, I feel far lighter. Like I could conquer the world.

That being said, I'm still going a bit crazy alone with my thoughts. So I decide to head to the communal pool; at least there, I should have other voices to distract me from the Greek chorus still tragically wandering about in my head.

I've barely settled down there when I notice Maria walking towards me. The urge to slump down, close my eyes tightly, and pretend to sleep is a hard one to fight . . . But she's been very good to us, and I can't bring myself to be rude.

"You are well, Ruby?" Maria asks, her smile as lovely as ever. She perches herself on the neighbouring lounger. "I hope you are still continuing to have a good time here?"

"It's been amazing," I tell her, and I'm being completely honest. Despite all my misgivings, all my fears about being stuck alone with Lewis for this extended period of time, the good has far outweighed the bad.

"And Lewis?" Maria frowns. "Where is he today?"

"I'm - um - not sure," I say eventually. After all, I really have no idea. I catch the look that passes across Maria's face, and I  know immediately that Milos has told her about yesterday's conversation. I sigh in defeat. "You know we've been having problems, I assume?" I ask hesitantly. She merely smiles.

"Let's just say Milos has his theories. I have my own; and I have no intention of sharing mine with him." I squint at her in confusion, and she laughs, tapping at her phone,
and revealing one of the photographs of me kissing Lewis. My favourite one: the one I find myself revisiting constantly - the moment as we slowly came back down from the amazing high of that first kiss.

"Sometimes it doesn't matter how love starts," she says, every inch the wise sage all of a sudden. "It's the happy ever after that counts most." She pats my arm as she stands back up. "Regardless of how anything began between you and Lewis, I believe you're both in the right place now." And, with her charming chuckle ringing in my ears, she walks away.

It seems Maria is actually the one who is on to us, I realise as her words sink in. Possibly has been all along.

And I'm starting to believe that she is actually the one who deleted those comments . . .

Sorry there's been a bit of a delay but I got nothing written on holiday!

But I hoped you enjoyed the chapter. ❤️