Wish You Weren't Here (A Romantic Comedy)

Chapter Eleven

It was a fake kiss. It meant nothing.

I'm still telling myself that the following morning, as I get ready for Sunday's activity: an all-day boat trip. It still isn't sticking.

It felt real.

It was . . . Good.

And I want to do it again.

I'm clearly losing the plot. "I've never had the urge to kiss Lewis Sheridan before," I hiss angrily at the mirror, as I gently scrunch up my light brown highlighted hair into its signature "beachy wave" look.

Stop it. You know that's a lie, my brain scolds me.

"We're not going there," I mutter to myself. "That was a long time ago."

"Ruby, have you finished talking to your imaginary friends yet?" Lewis calls from the living room. "We need to leave now, or we'll miss the boat!"

Grrr. My eyes, normally hazel, are sparking green as my reflection and I glare at each other, both of us equally incensed by our holiday nemesis' words.

I really hope he didn't hear what I was actually saying, though!

Huffing audibly, I grab my bag and flounce down the stairs to where Lewis is waiting, leaning against the kitchen counter and tapping his foot impatiently. "Let's go," I snap. I avoid looking directly at him, very aware of the fact that I haven't had any contact with him since that kiss. He didn't follow me back to the suite immediately last night, and I eventually heard him come in a few hours later. Obviously, he'd thought it best to avoid me, too. I hadn't missed the worry in his voice when he'd asked if I was okay. He was probably scared I'd try and jump him while he was sleeping!

"You look nice," he says in my ear as I lead the way down the path. Irritatingly, that tiny compliment warms me more than the early morning sunshine. Of course, he ruins it immediately with his next sentence. "A little tired, though. Didn't you sleep well?" To my surprise, he sounds a little bit concerned.

"You don't tell a girl she looks tired, Lewis," I sigh. "Don't you know anything about females?"

I see him shrug out of the corner of my eye. "Sometimes I think I do. Then I talk to you and realise I'm apparently way out of my depth." His laugh is rough, as if his throat is coated in sea salt. "Let me guess, you've been too scared to sleep in case you have a sex dream about me again?"

He really is the most infuriating man I've ever met. How could I have even considered for a moment that I might want to kiss him again? Possibly even do more than kiss? What an idiot I am! "God help me," I mutter under my breath. A little intervention from the heavens would be good right about now. How about a bolt of lightning, straight to his noggin? Too violent?

"Sorry, what did you say?" He asks innocently. I have no doubt he heard me.

"Oh, I was just reminding myself that I shouldn't take the fact we're going to be surrounded by sea today as a sign that I should drown you," I say sweetly. "You're not worth the jail time, honeybun."

Honeybun? Honeybun? Why the hell did I call him that? Sometimes, my brain seems to short-circuit around him.

I chance a glance at him now, and that smirk is out in full force. "If you really want to murder me, do me one last favour and wait until the holiday is almost over," he tells me cheerfully. "I'm having way too much fun winding you up right now."

I was worried things would be extra weird between us after last night's theatrics, but I guess I'm almost relieved to see it doesn't seem to have affected our usual dynamic. He's still pushing my buttons, and I'm mostly still allowing him to get under my skin. Normal service has resumed. It never really stopped: it was just temporarily halted by . . .

One of the best first kisses I've ever experienced.

Yeah. I'm holding my hands up and admitting it. (To you guys; don't you dare tell him!) But it still doesn't change anything.

This is going to be a long day.

Dimitrios, cheerful as always, is waiting for us in the driveway, and he thankfully chats away to Lewis for most of the short journey while I gaze blindly out of the window, trying to plot out a way to try to avoid my fake boyfriend as much as possible today.

At least I'll be able to spot him a mile away, I think to myself with my own smirk, scanning the brightly coloured Hawaiian style shirt he's chosen to wear today. By all rights, it should make him look like a stereotypical loud British tourist "living it large" in Benidorm, but because it's on fecking Lewis, he looks more like a male model in the beach edition of a magazine.

I suddenly realise he's watching me watch him, and I feel my cheeks flush as our gazes lock together. "This seems to be becoming a habit," he murmurs, just loud enough for me to hear. The car has paused to let some pedestrians cross in front of it, and Dimitrios is distracted, shouting out of his rolled-down window to a local standing nearby.

Those eyes. Sometimes, I really wish I understood what was going on behind them.

I toss my hair dismissively, turning my head and freeing myself from his gaze. "I was merely wondering if you got dressed in the dark, or if it's simply colour-blindness to blame for your outfit."

He doesn't even seem offended, and this bothers me further. Once again, I wonder why I can't ever seem to find his weak spot? He always manages to locate mine. "You really do need to stop eyeing me up before I start to get the wrong idea," he says, leaning closer to me. I can hear the laughter in his voice, so for once, I know he's actually joking.

"Ha, you wish!" Not a particularly witty rejoinder on my part, admittedly, but when it comes to Lewis, it's a point of pride to always strive to have the last word.

There's a brief silence at that, and I feel his retreat. "Yeah," he says finally, his voice husky and slightly pained. "Sometimes I do."

And my heart catapults down in a freefall towards my stomach, like it has gone on a bungee jump but forgotten the cord.

That part didn't sound like a joke. I shoot him another look, and he's staring out of his window now, his profile set in an unusually solemn line. "Dimitrios," he says jovially, as we start to move again. "Do we have much further to go?"

"We are nearly there! Just a few more minutes," our driver promises with a wide grin, and I heave a sigh of relief. I can't wait to escape this car. And Lewis.

And don't even get me started on the feelings I can't quite fully understand yet . . .

Once again, I didn't expect to get two chapters out this week . . . But here we are!

I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️