Page 68 of Best Wrong Thing

Finally, the half-full bus arrives. We find two seats together towards the back and settle in. Once we’ve collected the rest of the tourists and are on our way, I rest my head on Jacob’s shoulder and hold his hand on his knee, glad to be close to him once more. He kisses my hair and leans his cheek against my head. He squeezes my fingers, a small gesture that lets me know he needs this contact as much as I do.

Our first stop is Firgas, where we get off the bus to stretch our legs and look around for half an hour. It’s an enchanting village, with brightly coloured doors and flowers, stunning views over the countryside, and lots of springs and watercourses. Our guide tells us it’s the smallest village on Gran Canaria and, despite being entirely landlocked, has an abundance of water. So much so it’s earned itself the nickname ‘Villa del Agua’. Despite its diminutive size, thirty minutes isn’t long enough to thoroughly explore.

“I’d like to come back and look around longer,” I say once we’re back on the bus and driving away.

“It was beautiful.” Jacob holds my hand.

“That’s the trouble with trips like this. They always try to pack too much in, so you don’t get to appreciate half of it.”

He frowns. “I thought you enjoyed sightseeing.”

“I do. But I also enjoy having time to explore at my own pace.”

“That makes sense. Maybe we can come back one day.”

I arch a brow. “Are you serious?”

“Yes. One day. It would be nice to spend more time in Firgas.”

“Come back with me?”

He widens his eyes slightly. “Y-yes.”

I nibble my lower lip. Does he see a future for us? He did suggest spending more time getting to know each other after the holiday, so maybe he does. Hopefully, telling his friend about us was the first step, and he’s getting used to the idea of telling other people. I can wait. He’s worth it.

Before long, we get off the bus in the bed of the ravine. It’s hot, so we quickly apply sun cream, then set off on our walk down a path of packed earth through lush vegetation.

“It’s beautiful,” I say.

We’re towards the back of the group, and although our guide seems to be a wealth of information, her words are lost beneath the chatter of the family in front of us, who are discussing their daughter’s messy break-up. But it’s all right. I don’t need to know the names of each tree and plant to appreciate their beauty. We’re surrounded by more shades of green than I can name and every leaf shape imaginable from short and round to elegant ovals and long, pointed fronds. Large purple flowers with delicate, curling petals lend a fragrant, slightly sickly fragrance to the sticky air. Various squeaks, whistles, squawks, and chirps provide an ever-changing background track.

Water bubbles, getting louder until we reach a shallow river. The only way across is walking over fallen trees or splashing through the water. Everyone chooses to balance on the trunks. Or attempts to at least.

Jacob grimaces and points at his walking boots. Like mine, they’re waterproof, but that only helps in rain, not fording a river.

“What’s the matter? Don’t you fancy walking along the log?” I ask.

“I’ll fall.”

“Nah, you won’t. Put your arms out like you’re pretending to be an aeroplane.” I demonstrate.

He folds his arms. “How old are you?”

I laugh. “Old enough to not want to fall into the water. Is like a tightrope walker a better simile?”

“A bit.”

“Aeroplanes are more fun. When I was a kid, I pretended to be a Spitfire. I’d run around with my arms outstretched, goingdakka, dakka, dakka.” I kick a loose bit of bark across the path. “And that’s my embarrassing story for the day.”

Jacob embraces me and pecks my lips. “It’s a sweet story.”

My cheeks become warm. “You say the nicest things.” I pull away and grab his hand. “Come on, Mister Skydiver. If you can jump out of a plane, you can walk along a log. I’ll help you across.”

I jump onto the log and, using one arm for balance, walk backwards and tug Jacob forward. He steps onto the log, his teeth clenched as he wobbles. I move my hand to his elbow, supporting his entire forearm with mine until he’s more stable.

“You good?” I ask.

“Y-yes.”