Chapter 31

Sienna

I can’t help but take a moment to appraise Joe as I turn from the fridge to see him scrolling through my phone. A frown is slightly marring his handsome features, his glasses sliding down his long, straight nose. Broody is yet another good look on him. I stifle a sigh.

“Chocolate?” I offer, breaking off a piece of Milka and slipping it into my own mouth. He glances up, his eyes lingering on my lips, and then smiles and stands. The opening notes of what I think is “Rush Rush” by Paula Abdul (classic ballad) are drifting out of my phone, which he leaves on my bed as he walks towards me. He takes a square of chocolate himself, then holds out his hand.

“Dance with me?” he asks quietly. Slightly shyly, even. Intense green eyes are burning into mine, and, as cheesy a move as it seems to be, I can’t resist letting him pull me towards him, his warm arms wrapping around me. I hold him too and rest my head against him, feeling his heart beating as we sway, somewhat self-consciously, along with the music. My breath quickens at the closeness, the intimacy of this act.

I’m going to miss this guy so bloody much.

He pulls back after a moment so he can examine my face. “You okay?” he asks softly. His gaze is serious, as if he’s searching my thoughts somehow. Maybe his book was based on reality after all, and he can read minds? I don’t think I want him to know what I’m thinking, though; he’d probably run a mile.

I force a smile when really I feel more like crying. “Just can’t believe we’re going home tomorrow,” I reply. “Time flies when you’re having fun.”

Joe nods. “That’s true.” He bends slightly to study my shoulder; it’s exposed due to my dress having a bardot neckline. “I think something has bitten you,” he remarks, touching the skin lightly with one finger.

“I’m a mosquito magnet,” I explain, my voice catching. “I’m actually amazed I don’t have more bites than that. They usually form a committee to welcome me off a flight.”

He chuckles and then presses his mouth carefully against my shoulder, the briefest of kisses. The tenderness of the gesture shoots arrows of lust straight down between my legs, and I can’t help the sigh that escapes my mouth. His eyes narrow thoughtfully as they return to my face. It’s hard to decipher his expression. I wonder if he’s okay.

Before I can consider this further, his lips find mine, and all doubts fly out of my head. It’s so gentle; no urgency at all, his tongue stroking mine, tasting of chocolate and alcohol. It makes my whole body ache for him. One hand moves to the back of my neck so he can manoeuvre my face closer to his, while the other remains on my back, his hand burning into the skin there as if branding me.

In this moment, I realise something with absolute certainty, and it terrifies me.

In the space of four days, I have somehow fallen

completely

in love with Joe Quinn.

For fucks sake, Sienna. You’ve really gone and done it this time haven’t you?

This isn’t just a holiday fling for me. This is

it

. He’s the

one

.

And I couldn’t feel more helpless and hopeless about it when he’s made it clear that he doesn’t want a relationship. With me

or

anyone else.

This realisation, quite frankly, is the last thing I wanted. Although fairly typical of my life, admittedly.

I rally though. I don’t want to put any sort of downer on our last night together. Instead I channel my feelings, pretend to myself he feels the same, and lean right into the act.

Ramp up the passion level in the kissing. Steer us towards the bed, pushing him down onto it, unbuttoning his shirt, running my hands over his chest and abs, stroking my way along the trail of hair leading down below the waistband of his jeans until he gasps and rolls me over onto my back, his eyes dark with desire.

He stands briefly to remove his shirt fully, pull his jeans and boxers off, tossing his glasses to one side, before he helps me with my clothes, his hands and lips roaming everywhere in the process. It’s like a switch has flipped and he’s like a man possessed all of a sudden. And he’s acting exactly how I need him to act, which makes it easier for me to pretend this is for real on both sides.

There’s still music playing but I have no idea if I even recognise the songs, all I can feel is him, thrusting into me, biting my neck, toying with me with his fingers . . . My senses are completely taken up by Joe and nothing else. In that space of time, I couldn’t care less about anything else.

Afterwards, he kisses me slowly again and lies down beside me, stroking my stomach as he drifts off to sleep. I find myself wide awake, my eyes wet, wishing things could be different.

Once I’m sure he’s definitely unconscious, I slip out of his arms and pull my pyjamas on. I still have some packing to do so I may as well distract myself with that. I also find the tiny purse I keep my Euros in, and transfer the currency into my normal purse, which is always full to the brim with too many random membership cards, old photos and usually too many coins. One time I even got stopped at security because of how much my purse was bulging in my bag. I learned my lesson after that.

Now that I’m thinking about it, I should really give my Euros to Joe; he has paid for most things for us this trip and it’s really not fair. I’ll speak to him about it in the morning. Sadness overwhelms me again.

Still unable to find sleep, I sit on the balcony with the remainder of the prosecco bottle. I close my eyes and curse my stupid heart for falling for someone who doesn’t feel the same.

Sure, Joe likes me, and fancies me. I’ve let my guard down around him, allowed him to witness my silly side, my vulnerable corners, the random thoughts I sometimes can’t help but voice aloud. But he’s only experienced a snapshot of what being with me is like. He’d be bored of me in no time, like Greg was, like previous boyfriends before him have been. The novelty value always wears off quickly, just like the sheen of a holiday does.

And let’s circle back, for the seven millionth time, to the fact that he doesn’t want to be in a relationship.

I sigh, rub my eyes and go back inside. My phone stopped playing music a long time ago and I pick it up, double-taking as I see Greg’s name on my screen. What the

fuck

?

I briefly wonder if Joe saw the message from him, remembering that frown on his face just before he asked me to dance. Not that it really matters. I’m not getting back with Greg. I’ve no interest in talking to him either. That ship sailed when I realised he was cheating on me; I was never going back there anyway. And he might miss me, but I sure as hell don’t miss him now.

He doesn’t have the ability to break me anymore. That honour belongs to someone else now.

My gaze drifts over to Joe, snoozing so peacefully on my bed; so completely unaware that he’s about to shatter my already fragile heart into pieces.

Chapter 32

Joe

Greg’s text had definitely thrown a metaphorical curveball into my brain. Or maybe more of a

gutterball

as it made me realise that my thoughts of the possibility of a future with Sienna were probably pointless.

I had to remind myself that she herself was still heartbroken just a few days ago; she had even cried about him on our first meeting. How could I expect her to be ready to move on with someone else? With

me

, of all people? The guy who was once exposed on TV and to all the British tabloids as a three-timing cheater?

And I thought back to the day I told Sienna my sordid tale; she’d reassured me that she didn’t believe I was that guy anymore but then within moments joked that I had only two days left with her so wouldn’t have time to cheat anyway. I know her words were lighthearted, but she’d made it pretty clear she only saw me as a fling.

So that’s that,

really

.

I walked over to her after seeing that message, wishing I had those superpowers from my book as I looked into her eyes. What was she thinking? Should I tell her there was a message from her ex on her phone? I decided against it; I didn’t want another guy on her mind. Not in that moment.

As I lie in bed next to her in the early hours of the morning, as she sleeps soundly beside me, I reflect on the previous night. For me, at least, it all felt real. But I’m going to have to dust myself off and move on.

Maybe I’m finally ready for a relationship, after all; but right now, I can’t picture that scenario unless it has Sienna Norton in it.

The airport transfer is an early one; pick-up is just after ten a.m., so we don’t have much time to chat once we get up. Everything is a bit of a blur: checking that belongings are fully packed, passports are present and correct, what toiletries can be salvaged or chucked, saying goodbye and thanks to the apartment staff. Before we know it, we’re on the bus, inevitably hurtling back towards reality.

Sienna is painfully quiet, and even I’m struggling for things to say. I’m not sure at this stage what there’s left to say.

“Jack asked if I’d swap seats with Kate for the flight so they can sit together,” I say eventually. “So you’ll have to put up with me a little bit longer.” I’m trying to sound light, but I feel like there’s an edge of resentment creeping in which I can’t help. I don’t even know why it’s there. Do I suddenly feel a bit . . .

Used

?

Sienna turns to look at me, blue eyes raking my face. “It’s hardly been a hardship,” she says softly, then her lips curl into a naughty smile. “Well,

some

things have been hard, I suppose.”

We both snigger, but then silence falls again immediately. She opens her book –

my

book – and barely speaks again for the rest of the transfer while I think about everything that has happened since I first saw her on the bus a week ago. Never would I have imagined everything that has unfolded between us. I just wish it didn’t have to end like this.

We

do

talk more on the plane, though, trying to keep it light. We discuss what we’re looking forward to when we get home – she’s longing for a long hot bubble bath, and I just want to watch some Netflix on my massive TV with a Dominos. I mean, I’d really like to join her in the bath beforehand to be perfectly honest, but I keep that to myself. We’ve eased from flirty mode down to more of a polite acquaintance small talk level, which is sad, but I guess only to be expected.

“Greg messaged me last night.” She volunteers as the plane is descending. She’s staring straight ahead as she speaks.

“I know,” I admit after a brief hesitation. “I saw the message come in.”

“He’s got a fucking cheek, hasn’t he?” she says rhetorically.

“Yeah.” I nod emphatically. I don’t really feel I can comment much though apart from to back her up. It’s not exactly my place.

“Prick,” she mutters. That appears to be the end of it. She crosses herself, then holds my arm tightly as we land (“the landing is always the worst part for me” she says), her eyes tightly closed, sitting up ramrod straight in her seat. She slumps in relief as soon as it becomes clear she has survived another flight.

She looks at me and laughs. “We made it.”

But we

haven’t

really, I think sadly.

I want to hang on to every little last bit of time I have with her but everything seems to be against me. We disembark quickly, and border control is practically empty when usually the queue snakes around for ages. Luggage for the flight is already starting to circle the carousel when we emerge from showing our passports.

I’m willing myself to say something,

anything

, just to put myself out there but it seems I’m just too much of a coward.

“There’s my case!” She jumps forward and hauls it onto the ground, not even giving me the option to be a gentleman and get it for her. My heart starts to beat faster as she rummages in her carry-on bag and I know this is it –

she’s

leaving

.

“Here.” She pulls out her purse and opens it, grabbing a handful of euros and thrusting them into my hand. “For everything you paid for. It doesn’t even start to cover it but if you need to hunt me down for more, Kate has my number.”

I try to protest but she shakes her head. “Please take it.” She meets my eyes briefly and I’m pretty sure I can spot tears in them. “Thanks for everything, Joe. You have no idea how much you’ve done for me.”

With that she stretches up on her tiptoes, cups my face and gives me a sweet but way too short kiss. “Bye Joe,” she says softly and then she grabs her case and hurries away.

You know when you’re in a dream and you’re trying to get somewhere and it’s like you’re running knee-deep through mud? My reactions are like that right now. Everything just went too fast for me in the end. I couldn’t speak. I barely kissed her back. I watched her get swallowed up by the crowd.

And I didn’t say one single thing I wanted to say because I’m a fucking idiot who couldn’t just be honest about his feelings. And I can’t even chase after her because my case is still missing in action.

I look down at my fists, clenched by my sides, one clutching the money she handed me. I’m smoothing the Euros out, about to put them in my pocket when I realise it’s not all money. She’s clearly grabbed the notes without paying too much attention and there’s a couple of receipts mixed up in there and a small old photograph.

I squint at the photo, holding it away from me so it comes into focus. I realise it’s a picture of Sienna when she was younger, maybe mid to late teens, with an older woman who must be her mum judging by the resemblance. True to her words, Sienna had dark hair then; it was a lot longer and falling in wild waves around her cute freckled face. Her eyes look brown in the photo, just like I thought they were when I first saw her on the transfer bus.

And just like I thought they were back . . .

Holy shit. I feel my face slacken in shock.

How the

fuck

did I not realise sooner?

My case has finally made an appearance so I grab it and hurry out into arrivals, hoping I might catch her.

But she’s gone.

Crap

.

Chapter 33

Sienna

Coming back to reality after a holiday usually sucks.

Coming back to reality after realising I was harbouring unrequited love for Joe is a whole

new

level of shit though.

I didn’t leave the airport immediately after I ran away from Joe. I hid in a toilet cubicle and cried for about 20 minutes. Then I hid in the pub and cried some more for another hour or so before I finally thought it was safe to get a taxi. Then I cried in the taxi.

I’ve cried a

lot

over the past few days.

Gin and “Modern Family” isn’t fixing me this time. I’ve tried wine, too. Copious amounts of chocolate. Multiple bubble baths – I had as many as

three

in one day once. Nothing works.

I haven’t seen Kate since the flight. She’s still loved up with Jack. We only got back on Wednesday; it’s now Monday, and she’s pretty much been living at his place ever since. So, at least it was worth her ditching me, I guess.

How often do holiday romances even turn into more?

I wonder. I actually

do

know a few people who ended up eventually married to folk they met on holiday. It’s few and far between, though.

I wish it could have worked out for me and Joe.

I know what you’re thinking, by the way. You’re judging me right now, wondering why I’m acting like there’s no way of getting in touch with him.

“Her best friend and his brother are in a relationship now, she could get his number and contact him quite easily, for fucks sake,” I can hear you say.

Or “she only lives a couple of streets away from him, hang about long enough and she’ll just bloody run into him.”

I could do either of these things. I

know

this. But I’m worried there’s no point. Because if he gets bored of me then I’m just back at square one, possibly even more hurt than I already am. Why go chase after him only to end up heartbroken?

Plus it’s not like

he’s

been trying to track me down, and maybe

that’s

hurting me too.

I hoped he would realise he couldn’t live without me, that I’d find him waiting outside my flat with another bottle of prosecco (I’d even accept flowers I suppose) and make some sort of grand announcement of his everlasting love. That’s Dream Scenario A.

Dream Scenario B is slightly lower key: he would just send me a message saying hi, that he missed me. You know, like that message Greg sent me that I didn’t even bother to reply to. From

Joe

, it would mean so much more.

But neither scenario has materialised and I need to accept the fact that he’s not interested.

Also to add insult to injury, I’m back at work.

Since the pandemic (mostly) ended, I sometimes work at home and sometimes go into the office. Since me and Greg split up, the office tended to win just so I wasn’t alone all the time and, now I’m back from holiday and feeling hopelessly lonely once more, office trumps home again.

It’s a good distraction at least, I suppose, getting stuck into my numerous unread emails, trying to establish which tasks I still need to tackle. Going through a version of the same conversation over and over with different colleagues: “yes, I had a great holiday”; “Kefalonia, it’s a Greek Island?”; “yeah, it just went way too fast” etc etc.

By mid morning it’s like I was never away.

How fucking depressing.

I’m in the kitchen, adding a ginger and lemon teabag to my mug of hot water and half-seriously considering if my employers would let me move to Greece and work remotely, when my best work friend Lindsay appears at my side.

“What’s going on?” She asks me bluntly.

“What do you mean?” I play innocent.

“You’re not telling me something,” she pushes. “I can absolutely read you like a book. What happened on holiday?” Her eyes widen. “Did you . . .

Shag

someone?”

My blush immediately gives it away.

“Oh my god, tell me everything!” She gasps excitedly.

“There’s not that much to tell,” I sigh. I prop myself up on a stool at the counter and glance at the TV in the corner. Any further words I was about to say just freeze on my lips as I focus on him.

Joe

. Being interviewed on the telly.

I’ve spent many hours since we parted ways on Google, looking at photos of him, but he still makes me feel swoony. He’s clean-shaven today, and he’s wearing different glasses – this pair are wire rimmed and might suit him even more than his previous pair. His pale green shirt sets off his tan and brings out the colour of his eyes.

He is totally at ease on camera and utterly gorgeous. And seems absolutely happy and content and experiencing none of the crappy emotions that I am.

I look for the remote to turn the TV up but it is nowhere to be seen and it looks like the segment is coming to an end anyway. Lindsay looks confused at my actions. “Do you know that guy or something?” She asks. She takes another glance at the TV, exhaling a low whistle. “He’s

hot

.”

I take a deep breath. “That would be my holiday fling,” I announce. And then I burst into tears.

I end up going home early that day, ostensibly to “work from home” but mostly I just end up crying again. The fact Joe was quite clearly not even thinking about me was even more devastating than I thought it might be. I had hoped he might at least have some latent feelings lingering around but I guess that was simply wishful thinking.

I text Kate later that night.

Are you free for a couple of drinks one evening this week?x

I want to see her but I also want to see if she knows anything about Joe. I’m a total masochist. A sucker for punishment. I can’t help myself.

She takes a few hours to reply.

Would Thursday work for you? It’s meant to be a nice day – we can sit outside somewhere and pretend we’re still on holiday.x

I’d prefer not to have to wait until Thursday but it would be nice to sit in the sun. It’s been pretty much raining non-stop since we got back, of course.

I virtually sleep-walk through the next few days. I’m back to the way I was just after Greg, before I went on holiday, almost on auto-pilot.

When Thursday rolls around though, I make an effort. I select the pink dress I last wore on holiday –

the night I met Joe

, my brain unwillingly reminds me. I can throw a blazer over it for work. I’m excited at the idea of actually going to a pub. I’ve been so antisocial since I came back. I’m feeling a bit more optimistic – it’s amazing the difference sunshine can make to my mindset.

I’m also wondering whether I should ask Kate tonight if she can get Joe’s number for me. Maybe I need a bit of closure in order to move on.

Kate has text me to suggest we meet at four at a new pub in the southside.

There’s a beer garden around the back but because it’s new no one really knows the outside bit is there yet. We should get a seat easily.x

I heave a sigh of relief as I leave work and head towards the pub.

On my way x

I message Kate.

Fab. Come straight through to the back when you get here. A wine is waiting for you x

I push my way into the pub and look for the sign pointing towards the beer garden. The pub itself is relatively empty and the beer garden too only has a handful of people in it. Kate is right.

Kate is also – I realise belatedly – nowhere in sight.

I stop in the doorway and scan the few occupied tables, focusing solely on spotting my best friend. She’s definitely not there.

Surely she hasn’t stood me up?

My eyes fall on a table directly opposite where I’m standing. There’s a glass of white wine – a nice large one, looking very inviting – sitting there without an owner. I track my gaze upwards, towards the proprietor of the pint sitting across from the unclaimed wine.

And that’s when I spot him.

Chapter 34

Joe

I’ve barely stopped thinking about Sienna since she abandoned me at the airport last Wednesday. Even when I’m doing something else – hell, even when I was in the middle of a TV interview the other day – she is always lurking somewhere in the back of my mind.

At first when I couldn’t find her in the airport I thought maybe it was for the best. She’d probably had a lucky escape from me. I didn’t want to think that way but I’d been so determined that we didn’t have a future at first . . . I almost didn’t trust my own feelings.

As the days went on though, I’d felt her absence in my life more and more. It wasn’t getting easier. And that made me think I needed to take action. I needed to find out if there was a chance,

any

chance, she was feeling the same as me.

So on Monday evening I swallowed my pride and knocked on my brother’s door.

It swung open and Kate was standing there, a knowing expression on her face. She shouted back to Jack “Told you it would be less than seven days.”

I eyed her in confusion. “What?”

She laughed. “I said it would be less than a week before you turned up here asking how to get in touch with Sienna. Jack thought it would take longer than that for you to admit it.” She grabbed my arm, already acting like she’d been living there for years. “Come on through.”

“It’s been bloody obvious from the start you were smitten with her,” Jack shrugged ten minutes or so later. “I saw the way you were looking at her in the pool bar that first night. It was like you were under a spell and she hadn’t even noticed you.”

“Rub it in, why don’t you,” I grumbled, taking a big swig from my bottle of beer. I hadn’t realised just how obvious my feelings had been, possibly because I was still in denial myself at that stage. I certainly wouldn’t have expected my

brother

of all folk to pick up on it.

“And don’t even get me started on the night we happened to catch you kissing . . . You know, just a few hours after Sienna was adamant nothing was happening between you,” Kate laughed. “The chemistry between the two of you could have caused an explosion.” She curled up next to Jack, her head resting on his shoulder. “You should know she is absolutely gone for you too.”

“She is?” I blinked.

She nodded. “Absolutely. I’ve known that girl for years, and I could tell she was head over heels. I’ve never known her to let her guard down with anyone that quickly.”

“And you were a different person,” Jack added, looking at me. “You’ve always been so cynical and . . . almost determined to

punish

yourself, I guess? It’s like you allowed yourself to be happy around Sienna.”

Once again, I was sort of blown away by my younger brother’s level of insight. Had he

always

been like this?

“So do you want her number?” Kate offered.

That was initially what I was going to ask. But the more I thought about it, the more I wanted to make some sort of gesture. Something to properly show I wanted a relationship with her, that I was willing to invest.

“She messaged me earlier asking me to meet up for a drink this week, but I haven’t had a chance to get back to her yet,” Kate said slowly when I told them this. “Maybe we employ the old bait and switch method?”

The thought of seeing Sienna again made my heartbeat quicken and at that point I knew I was making the right move.

“And you’re sure . . . she would

want

to see me?” I dared to ask. “I mean, she practically sprinted away from me at the airport.”

Kate nodded with certainty. “Look Joe, Sienna has no confidence when it comes to guys. She’s been ground down to a pulp by twats like Greg and she thinks she’s got nothing to offer. She ran away from you because she thought it was better than

you

running away from her.”

I winced. I couldn’t actually imagine actively trying to run away from her any longer. But I couldn’t blame her for thinking I

might

.

And so we put a plan in place. A location. A plan for Kate to meet Sienna there. A couple of texts from Kate to imply she was already at that location, waiting for her.

But instead, I’m here.

And I really hope she’s going to want to hear what I have to say . . . And

stay

.

Chapter 35

Sienna

Joe – or Pool Hotty, or J.P. Quinn, you choose, they’re all one and the same – picks up the pint with one hand and takes a sip. As I step forward, his eyes remain on his book, but the corners of his lips are gradually curving upwards, and I know he knows I’m there.

My heart slams in my chest.

“Can I sit here?” I ask, doing my best to imitate our original meet-cute.

He puts the book and pint down and raises his head, looking up at me over those sexy wire-rimmed glasses. His bright eyes are sparkling, crinkling adorably at the corners in that way they do.

“I’m going to say what I

should

have said then, rather than ‘if you must’,” he begins, grimacing at the memory of his own words before pausing and gathering himself.

He continues: “I’d love that. I’ve not been able to stop thinking about you since I first saw you on that bus, and I’m desperate to get to know you better. I’m just not ready to

admit

that to myself yet.”

I can’t help but smile at that as I drop into the chair opposite him. “In retrospect, maybe your original response was better. The alternative probably would have been a tad too intense for me and scared me off.”

“Agreed.” He laughs. “Plus I’m trying to get the conditions as close to our first meeting as possible. Let’s see . . .” He screws up his face in thought. “It’s Scotland rather than Greece but we’ve got the sunshine – for a change. It’s not a pool bar, but it’s a beer garden so it’s pretty close. I’m fairly sure you’re wearing the same dress but that’s just a happy coincidence.” He adjusts his glasses higher on his nose, grinning ruefully. “But I’m not even wearing the same specs because I broke my other pair when I was drunk.”

“How on earth did you manage to do that?” I ask, giggling.

Joe shrugs, a shadow briefly passing over those chiselled features. “For some reason last Wednesday evening, I was feeling really lost and lonely, and I ended up drinking a bit too much wine and whisky. I left my glasses on the couch and sat on them. Wish that was a more interesting story, but there you have it.”

I stare at him, the expression on his face and his words absorbing into my brain as I realise, finally, that this really isn’t one-sided. That he’s been as miserable as I have at the thought of us not being together. He’s just been better at putting a happy face on it.

“So . . . Why are we here?” I ask finally. I pick up the wine and take a sip. Oh goodness, that’s refreshing.

“Kate told me chenin is your favourite,” Joe sidebars. He pauses again, takes a deep breath, rubbing awkwardly at the scruff already darkening his chin again. “Like I already said, I’m not quite able to make all the conditions work to recreate our first meeting exactly, so forgive me if this doesn’t make sense at first . . . But here goes.”

It suddenly occurs to me that this isn’t Dream Scenario A or B . . . But some sort of scenario is about to unfold and it’s going to be a good one.

Joe Quinn is about to make a romantic gesture.

My insides twist in delight and anticipation at this thought.

He picks up the book he was reading, opens it to the inside back cover and passes it over to me. There is what appears to be a handwritten list scrawled on the blank page at the back, which reminds me of the list we compiled when we agreed to be holiday buddies in the first place.

“For a published author you’re terrible for vandalising books,” I tut, focusing on the words. “And you really need to work on your handwriting.”

“Just read it,” he sighs, pocketing his glasses and running a hand through that messy quiff I love so much. “Well, if it’s legible enough.”

I start scanning the list in front of me.

“Picnic in the park? Glasgow Mural Trail? Trip to the Science Centre?” Puzzled, I glance up. “What

is

this?”

Joe looks nervous. “I thought I would put together a list of activities that we could do here in Glasgow. And maybe Scotland in general . . . And maybe

outside

of Scotland too.”

I think I’m finally starting to understand as I return my attention to the list. “Subcrawl? Oh, I’ve never successfully completed one of those.”

“And I’ve never got around to even

trying

one,” he says hesitantly. “It could be fun?”

“Roadtrip – maybe Skye or the North Coast 500?” I continue to read, trying to contain my excitement as everything starts to become clearer. I really hope I’m not misinterpreting this list’s intention.

“Thought we made pretty good roadtrip companions,” he nods. “I don’t even mind doing all the driving.”

“Well, obviously. I have no idea how to work a passing place for a start!” I roll my eyes at him, smiling to soften my words.

I scan down the rest of the list: there’s more Glasgow activities on there; there’s a trip to the Edinburgh Fringe to watch comedy; a suggestion of another holiday abroad (“but maybe just the two of us this time?”). At the bottom there’s one that really stands out for me though.

Rewatch all our favourite sitcoms. At my place, or yours. Doesn’t matter as long as we do it together.

I finish reading the list and look up at him, my breathing uneven. My face questioning. My heart brimming with hope.

“So I have a new proposition for you,” he says. “But first there’s something else I need to tell you.” Worry is evident on his face now and the hope is probably draining from mine. My mind is racing; I always think the worst, but I can’t even think what the worst-case scenario would even be this time.

He pushes something else towards me: a photo. “You accidentally handed me this with the currency,” he explains.

I look at the photo of my younger self with my mum. “Told you I look better blonde,” I joke. I am unable to see where he is going with this.

“Do you remember when you said the girl in my book reminded me of you?” He asks. I nod. He taps the photo.

“It

was

you. I based Amy on you.”

“W-what?” My hands fly to my mouth.

“We had a lecture together. At uni. I didn’t make the connection until I saw that photo – like I said before, I’ve been great at compartmentalising parts of my life – but I changed the whole appearance of Amy after I saw you there. I was drawn to you somehow. The same way I found myself when I met you again two weeks ago.” He hesitates. “So, in a weird way, it’s

always

been you.”

Oh

.

“Hopefully that doesn’t freak you out too much,” he frowns, looking away.

I can’t stop the smile that spreads across my face. “So it turns out the famous author I once had a crush on actually based his female character on me. And now, years later we’ve reconnected, neither of us realising we sort of had a history? That’s pretty cool if you ask me.”

Joe exhales, the doubt on his face clearing at my words.

“Can you get on with your proposition now?” I ask eagerly.

He fixes his eyes on me and I find myself, once again, taken back to that day in the pool bar. Less than two weeks ago but it feels like I’ve known him so much longer. I suppose, in a way, I have.

And suddenly, I don’t need to have mind-reading abilities to see he feels the same way I do about him. He has fallen too. I bite my lip to stop myself from smiling too soon.

“Sienna,” he says softly. “Would you like to be Glasgow buddies?” He swallows hard. “In other words, would you like to continue our holiday buddy agreement here. . . But in a more permanent and definitely less platonic way?”

“We were never very good at being platonic,” I nod, trying not to laugh.

“Can we give this a try? Being together? For real?” He finishes.

I repeat the words I did when he propositioned me previously. “Joe, I thought you’d never ask.”

His face lights up. We smile at each other, slightly awkwardly, clearly feeling a bit out of our comfort zones. Whatever is going on here is new to both of us. But I’m beyond excited to see where it goes.

“So what happens now?” I ask, after realising we’ve been gazing into each other’s eyes without saying a word for far too long.

Joe stands up and moves around the table to sit beside me. He pulls his new chair up close to me and strokes a finger lightly down my face, brushing his lips against mine softly before he speaks again.

“For a start, in order to continue the recreation of events that started this off, I’m going to take you to the Greek restaurant across the road for dinner. Then . . .” He pauses for dramatic effect. “I’m going to need to go and listen to my brother and your best friend have sex.”

I can’t help the snort that escapes at that followed by genuine peals of laughter. I’d almost forgotten how much this guy makes me laugh. “Maybe leave that bit out,” I manage to say eventually. “How about we skip to the point where I came and rescued you from the lounger and took you back to my room?”

His smile is downright filthy. “Sounds good to me. Except this time I’ll act on that little moment we definitely had.”

“Not if I beat you to it.” I match him dirty grin for dirty grin, wrapping one hand around the back of his neck and pulling his face towards me. He groans, lips sinking onto mine, fingers sliding into my hair.

We kiss for a long time, lost in each other, until eventually someone else in the beer garden eventually breaks the spell by shouting good-naturedly: “Get a room, for fucks sake!”

Typical Glasgow behaviour.

Joe pulls back, looks at me as we both shake with laughter again, the expression in his green eyes a gorgeous mix of tender and horny. “Shall we take their advice?” he asks softly.

“I guess it would be rude not to,” I reply breathlessly, as he takes my hand and pulls me to my feet. We head towards the doorway, waving jokingly at our heckler en route.

Holidays are great; they take you away from your normal life, and it’s amazing to have that level of escapism . . . but then you’ve got to go back to reality and the memories quickly fade.

In this case however, I think happily, as Joe bends to kiss me again out on the street, seemingly unable to stop, I’ve brought back the ultimate souvenir.

A

permanent

holiday buddy.

~~~The End~~~

So that’s the end to another story, and I’m kinda sad to be done with Sienna and Joe. I’ll miss them. 😢

I hope you enjoyed the story! Please like, comment and share if you do as it will hopefully get my story shown to more people on here, which I would love. This is definitely my favourite story of the ones I have written. 💜