Wish You Weren't Here (A Romantic Comedy)

Chapter Eighteen

For the first part of today's trip, we're visiting the city of Rethymno. It's about a 90-minute drive west from Hersonissos, and I'm already worrying that it's going to be the longest and most awkward hour and a half of my life.

"It'll be okay," Lewis whispers in my ear as we make our way towards Milos' immaculate car, as if he's read my mind. "We just need to keep up the happy couple act when we're around him."

"That's what I'm worried about," I mumble back.

"Come on, we're friends now, right?" he chides me. "Just pretend you like me every once in a while, and it'll all work out." His accompanying chuckle is grim with an edge of bitterness. Nevertheless, I'm shocked when he slides a surprisingly cool hand into mine. "All part of the show," he explains, his lips quirking upwards in a sly smile as I shoot him a quick questioning look.

And I'm actually a little sad when I have to let the hand go in order to climb into the back of the car.

"You are both ready to go?" Milos asks us, bright green eyes holding mine briefly in the rear view mirror. I nod and quickly look away; I was flirting with him on Friday without a care in the world, but now - after the events of the weekend - I'm feeling what I can only describe as a reluctant loyalty to my fake boyfriend. Despite the fact that I still find the hotel manager ridiculously attractive.

"Yes, we're good," Lewis says aloud, and I can't miss the slightly possessive emphasis he places around the word "we're". A not-so-subtle reminder that we're a couple . . . Even though we're not. Jeez, this is the ultimate head-fuck.

We're not in a real relationship . . . But we did have sex less than 12 hours ago. And then we agreed to try to be friends. But I don't really know how to be friends with him. The only time we were ever even close to that particular status was those few hours back when we were teenagers. And he doesn't even remember that!

Milos thankfully puts the radio on as he pulls out of the driveway and navigates downhill to the main road. At least this means he won't be able to hear any of our (likely to be stilted) conversation. Despite the fact that it's barely ten in the morning, the strip is already bustling with activity, many people sitting outside cafes with a coffee or - if you're looking for an easy way to identify the British tourists! - a full English breakfast. My stomach churns at the very idea of so much food so early in the day.

That being said, the pizza place on the right looks nice. I point it out to Lewis. "We could go there one night, if you like?" he suggests hesitantly, and I find myself nodding eagerly. Only because I really really like pizza, you understand.

Maybe this friends thing will work out after all, though?

We're soon on the road to Rethymno, the sea a glittering blue diamond on one side and mountains rising up dramatically in the distance on the other. It's a beautiful day, and I'm already feeling lighter somehow, despite the seemingly impossible situation we're in. "Did you know that the tallest mountain in Crete is nearly twice the height of Ben Nevis?" I say out loud, then groan inwardly. Why did I feel the need to share one of my "not-so-fun" facts? Lewis is going to think I'm such a nerd! Wait, since when do I care what he thinks?

Surprisingly, though, his face lights up at my words. "No way, really? I've been to Crete so many times, driven through the mountains and everything, and I had no idea!"

"I didn't know you'd been here a lot; you've never mentioned it."

A shadow passes over his face. "You never asked," he counters, but before I can enter another shame spiral, he returns to the original topic. "That's crazy though. Do you think you would ever climb it?"