She moved towards a curve of rock that shielded her somewhat from the rest of the beach and eased herself down part of the way – before collapsing the rest of it with a groan. She shut her eyes for a moment but when the spinning feeling stayed with her, she forced them open again and squinted across the sand from where she was sprawled back on her elbows. Best to try and stay conscious really.
The shimmer of heat blurred into the glitter of the sun on the water. There was a dot on her vision in the distance calling her attention, but there were a lot of dots wobbling across her vision, so she wasn’t sure it was something separate to the drink or the heat, until it got larger. She blinked and swallowed, suddenly feeling like if she looked away from it, she was going to get even dizzier and maybe pass out. It wasn’t great to pass out alone on a foreign beach. So, she kept focused on it, until it was close enough that she could tell it was a person, swimming towards the shore.
And then, it got even bigger and clearer, and she could see that it was Rowan.
Was she dreaming? Or hallucinating? Why would Rowan be swimming out here on his own?
Why wouldn’t he?a voice in her head asked.
Shut up, brain, you’ve got me in enough trouble today.
Mirage Rowan stood up, suddenly going from a floating head with spinning arms, to a glistening torso above the water level. His head was still there too of course. And what a lovely head it was, as he slicked back his hair, sluicing the water away from his face. But she’d not seen his naked torso before and oh, my…
Even from a distance she could see his muscles moving and the water running along them, all giddy and eager to explore as much of his firm, hard flesh as possible.
He was still walking towards her. She could see his hips now, the dent that angled down into his sodden trunks. Thank goodness he wasn’t wearing Speedos. And he was actually, quite definitely, not a mirage. Her brain would never have been able to conjure up a body like that. At least she was drunk enough not to feel guilty for ogling him and therefore able to keep ogling him further.
It occurred to her, what a waste of life it was sometimes to be so inhibited by everything all the time. Were confident people basically going through life as though they were permanently drunk – no fear of hangover – just never-ending supplies of self-assurance straight into the bloodstream?
‘Lila?’
Her head snapped up and she immediately regretted the sudden motion as her stomach churned. Her introspection had meant she’d lost track of the present and now he was standing near her feet, looking down at her with a frown on his face. The sun was bright over his shoulder, making her squint and throwing half his face into dramatic shadow.
‘Ah, you remember my name now,’ she said, without thinking. Was it possible her body was gettingmoredrunk? Probably.
His mouth pulled down at the corners and he crouched beside her feet but didn’t move any closer. He propped the fingertips of one hand in the sand for balance, the other arm resting casually across his knee. Her eyes traced all the hard lines and strong curves of his shoulders and biceps and thighs, without so much as a coherent thought to back it all up.Body: the cavewoman in Lila grunted.
‘I always remembered your name, Lila.’
She licked her ridiculously dry lips, tasting salt. That was probably what his skin would taste like too. ‘So why did you say, “Er, I think so, briefly”?’ She imitated his deep voice and he laughed, then sobered.
‘Because…well…’ He shook his head. ‘Are you okay? You don’t look well.’
‘Overindulged on the grape juice.’
He raised his eyebrows and nodded slowly. ‘I see. On your own?’
‘No. I mean, I am now, obviously. But I wasn’t. I was with friends.’ The word felt unnatural in her mouth – maybe she couldn’t technically qualify them as such – but they weren’t here, so he didn’t need to know any different, did he? Yeah, let him think she was a semi-normal human being who knew people and stuff.
‘And they let you go wandering off alone like this? Some friends.’ He raised his eyebrow.
‘I wasn’t like this when I left. I think my stomach was still digesting some of the wine. And then the sun,’ she waved a hand above her and slid back further on the other elbow. ‘It’s hot.’
He nodded again. ‘You need to get out of the shade and get some water in you.’
‘Good plan,’ she agreed. ‘Once I’ve got my strength back, I’m heading straight home.’
‘My villa is right there.’ He pointed up and she tipped her head back awkwardly, looking up at the rocks. After a moment she could just about discern a staircase, hidden in the side of them.
‘Wow, I collapsed on your doorstep. I’m not stalking you.’
‘I figured. Most stalkers don’t fall asleep waiting for you.’ He stood up again and held out his hand for her. ‘C’mon.’
She thought about arguing. But he was offering shade and water. Also, that feeling of being comfortable was back. It might have just been the alcohol, but her pulse didn’t go racing off every time she ventured a sentence or a joke with him.
It raced off for entirely different reasons.
She executed a wobbly sit-up and took his hand. His fingers closed arounds hers with a warm grip as he tugged her up. There was sand caught between their skin, niggling and abrasive, but there was a feeling of rightness to it as well.
