A Thousand Salt Kisses Later (Book 2 of Salt Kiss series)

Rekjavik

There's nothing better in the world than summer nights. Yes, the sun has set but its warmth hangs in the air, and so does the effervescence generated in all by its rays.

In London, the pubs were exploding onto the streets and people were laughing and talking without a care in the world. All the windows of every building were strained open as widely as possible so that your ears got a flavor of each household. You could hear people talking from within, children playing in their bedrooms and music pumping from basement flats.

Summer nights are especially wonderful when a) you happen to be on your way to meet some friends and b) you have something amazing to celebrate. Just like me tonight.

I had been studying at uni for three years now, and today I sat my last ever exam. I had spent the entire afternoon sitting at home agonizing over every word I wrote before deciding to throw in the towel and get drinking.

I now stood at the crossroads of Dalston Junction waiting for the traffic to stop. It was the vibrant, multicultural heart of London and reggae blared from the record shop behind me. I smiled. I'm finally free!

Everyone from uni would be out, and I was prepared for a serious night. I had been the last of all my friends to finish my exams, much to my frustration and envy, and most of them had been out partying for days now.

A horn honked, interrupting my thoughts.

"Got a boyfriend, hot lips?" a voice boomed from a nearby van.

I looked up at the driver and glared. It was some lecherous idiot with missing teeth.

As If!, I thought to myself, Alicia Silverstone-style.

If there was one problem with summer, it was this. The pervs. They went into absolute overdrive. The heat and bare flesh were clearly more than they could take.

Finally, the lights changed, and I rushed across the road and headed towards my favourite bar Reykjavik. It had a Nordic theme and thus served a lot of killer vodka.

I glanced at my reflection in the window before I went in. I wore a silver, silky camisole top, black leggings and lots of thin jangly bracelets. My outfit was fine, but I couldn't help but frown at my long, blonde wavy hair. It was looking a bit overgrown, to say the very least. I had not been able to afford a haircut for a while now, and it puffed out around my head like a wild forest.

I rummaged around in my bag and pulled out a hair band; I had no choice but to scrape it up hurriedly into a sweaty and messy bun.

Next, I applied fire engine red lipstick using the glass as a mirror and then re-examined myself. The lips kind of detracted from the hair, and it was all a vague improvement.

I swung open the door, and the humidity instantly engulfed me. There were a lot of bodies here this evening, and it was a hot, hot night.

I grimaced and weaved my way through the crowd, looking for my friends. The walls were red and plastered in posters, advertising various events about town. I pushed on and had just squeezed my way through the bottleneck and into the main seating area when, to my horror, I felt myself being lifted high up into the air.

Someone had grabbed the bottom of my legs from the front, and I screamed losing my balance and falling forwards over my handler's shoulders. I squealed as I hung upside down, trying to work out what on earth was going on.

Suddenly I felt a hand on my butt, slapping it repeatedly.

"Stop it!" I shrieked. Who is molesting me like this?

I was dropped onto my feet again, now dizzy and panicked. I heard familiar laughs and looked around me. My boyfriend Sam stood to the left, his eyes were creased up into little slits as he laughed, glinting with amusement.