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‘Thank you,’ I whisper, my cheeks flushing with heat.

‘Cheers,’ he holds his glass up to mine.

Tapping my glass against his, I take a sip, both of us turning to look as Marina squeals in embarrassment when Anna grabs her hands and forces her to dance in the middle of the circle out on the decking.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Leo observing them with a smile on his lips.

‘How did you and Marina meet?’ I ask him, dragging his eyes from them to me. ‘Did you find yourselves floating next to each other in the water one day or was it here in the bar?’

‘Would it be embarrassing to admit we were introduced through my dad?’ he says, wrinkling his nose as he smiles.

‘Not at all.’ I laugh. ‘Your dad seems all-knowing. In fact, I’d be keen to be introduced to others through him. Bet he has some great friends.’

‘Yeah, he’s a lot of fun when he wants to be,’ Leo agrees, nodding.

‘He’s lived here a long time and knew Marina well – both local small business owners.

I wasn’t in the best place when I arrived.

It took me a while before I was ready to meet new people.

After a long time of me moping around and when I was ready to get back in the water, Dad arranged for us to all go surfing. ’

‘Surfing brought you together.’

‘You could say that.’

He catches me smirking into my wine glass and frowns.

‘What?’ he asks. ‘What are you thinking?’

‘That you lied to me.’

‘When?’

I look him right in the eye. ‘When you said you were a lone wolf.’

He opens his mouth to protest, but thinks better of it, his shoulders slumping slightly as he concedes. I have him there.

‘You’re lucky to have such a great support network,’ I continue, enjoying the light atmosphere between us. ‘Your dad is your coach and your fellow surfers are your friends. It’s nice. You find your inspiration in and out of the water, you could say.’

He shakes his head at me with a teasing smile. ‘I’m not sure you even realise you’re doing it.’

‘Doing what?’

‘Putting quotes in my mouth.’ He gives me a pointed look. ‘Come on. Referring to my family and friends as “inspiration in and out of the water”. Sounds like a well thought-out caption beneath an adorable group photo.’

‘How do you know I’m not poetic at all times?’

‘Well, I’m not, so don’t try to make me say shit like that,’ he says, before propping his elbow up on the bar again. ‘So, what about your inspiration?’

‘For what? Writing?’ I gave him a quizzical look. ‘I guess in this case, that would be you.’

He laughs, properly laughs, the crinkles forming in all their glory, his brown eyes gleaming with surprise. When he laughs like that, his eyes become gentler.

‘Not what I meant, but I’m honoured to be your inspiration, London,’ he says, still chuckling.

‘You said that I was lucky to have this support network.’ He gestures to Marina, who is twirling Anna to the background noise of cheers from their adoring crowd.

‘I was asking you about your support network. What are they like, your family and friends?’

‘Oh!’ I blush, tucking my hair behind my ear. ‘They’re great. Really great.’

He watches me expectantly while I knock back my wine.

‘That’s it? That’s all I get? They’re “really great”.’ He sighs with disappointment. ‘I thought you were meant to be poetic.’

‘It’s not like I got much better! Do you know how hard it is to get you to talk about anything properly?’

‘Okay, well inspire me then like I inspire you,’ he teases playfully. ‘Show me how it’s done.’ He tilts his head at me. ‘Tell me about you. Otherwise, I’ll just have to imagine the life you lead back in England.’

‘Now, that’s something I’d be interested to hear,’ I say, before grimacing. ‘God, come on, what sort of life have you imagined for me? I highly doubt it will be complimentary.’

‘I picture you growing up in a big family in an amazing, tall town house in Chelsea or something. Top grades at school, you were probably Head Girl, but not a nerd one, an intimidating one who rules the place. And now you attend heaps of exclusive posh parties with CEOs where everyone is holding those fancy, circular, champagne glass things.’

I burst out laughing.

‘What? Am I close to the truth?’ he asks eagerly.

‘No!’ I roll my eyes. ‘I mean, I grew up in London and I think that’s all you got right. My mum maybe has a set of champagne coupes.’

‘Coupe,’ he repeats, clicking his fingers. ‘That’s what they’re called.’

‘I’m pleased I give off a Head-Girl vibe though,’ I reason. ‘I wasn’t, though. I didn’t even make prefect. And I do not party with CEOs. I’m a sports journalist, remember? A very different kind of network to the people your mum would hang out with.’

‘So tell me about it, then,’ he insists. ‘Who do you hang out with?’

I heave a sigh, raising my eyes to the ceiling. ‘Fine. Okay, well, there’s my best friend Flora. In the big scheme of things, we haven’t actually known each other that long. We met at the paper I worked at and got to know each other and… it feels like I’ve known her for much longer than I have.’

‘She’s the one dating the tennis player.’

‘Yes, Kieran O’Sullivan.’ I nod, before narrowing my eyes at him. ‘Hey, how did you put that together?’

‘I told you I read your articles,’ he says simply. ‘So, Flora is your best mate. Do you have family in the city, too?’

I nod, wrapping an arm self-consciously around my waist. ‘Yeah. I do. My mum still lives there, in the house, I mean. My… childhood home.’

He watches as I bring the glass to my lips, taking an abnormally large gulp.

‘Are you okay?’ he asks, his tone soft and low as his brow furrows.

‘Yeah, yes, of course,’ I remind myself, fixing a smile. ‘It’s… complicated.’

‘We don’t have to talk about it,’ he says, waving it off. ‘We can talk about something else. Anything else. I didn’t mean to—’

‘No, it’s fine.’

I exhale and then, before I can think properly about what I’m saying, I find myself wanting to talk about it. I don’t know why. It’s not an appropriate place, this party, and it’s not an appropriate companion, my interviewee. But out it comes before I can stop it.

‘My parents are divorcing, which shouldn’t be a big deal.

They don’t get on and, despite all these years together, it’s like they just…

don’t understand each other anymore. They don’t want to, anyway.

I want them to be happy and it’s better that they go their separate ways, but I can’t stop myself feeling sad about it. ’

He’s listening so intently that he’s shifted towards me a little more, ever so slightly closing the gap between us.

‘I’m sorry,’ he says quietly, and I can tell he means it.

I shrug. ‘It is what it is. I’m in my thirties, I know they’re their own people with their own lives. I need to be a grown-up about this. But my mum called today and she told me she’s selling the house.’

Something about saying it out loud hits me harder than I expected and my words become stuck in my throat, tripping my breath up on its way out so it’s shallow and shaky.

Hot tears build up behind my eyes and I panic.

I won’t cry about this. Not on my own and certainly not in front of anyone.

Luckily, I’m a seasoned pro at this sort of thing.

These tears will not be spilling over any time soon.

I force them back, my lips twist into a smile and I hold my chin up.

I’m fine.

‘Anyway,’ I continue brightly, swirling my wine around its glass, ‘in answer to your question, I have a great support network too. The shape of it is… evolving currently, but that’s okay.’

He nods slowly. ‘How do you feel about the house?’

‘Mum moving? I think it’s great! That house is full of old memories.

She deserves a new space that she can make her own.

Dad does too. In fact, I’m hoping that Mum might take the opportunity to go travelling like she’s always wanted to.

She married young and didn’t get much of a chance to see the world.

She keeps making excuses, though. Maybe selling the house will give her the push she needs. New adventures for both of them.’

I take a drink and when I turn to look at him again, his expression takes me by surprise.

It’s not awash with sympathy or anything as excruciating as that, but it’s thoughtful and considered, as though he knows something I don’t.

It’s both disconcerting and comforting at the same time. Almost as if he cares.

‘When my parents broke up, I was young and very upset about it,’ he says calmly, his eyes remaining fixed on me.

‘They should never have been together – I think they thought that opposites attract and everything, but in the end, it was a disaster. But it’s still a big change for a kid and I relied heavily on surfing to help me deal with it.

I could forget about everything when I was surfing.

But one thing that hit me hard was leaving my childhood house.

It was only a house, so it shouldn’t have mattered, but it felt like…

it was the final thing, you know? Like it was real.

The house was gone. So was the family I’d known. ’

I watch him as he lifts his drink to his lips, tips his head back and swallows, before lowering his glass.

‘Change is never easy, even if it’s for the better.

Even if you’re in your thirties,’ he continues matter-of-factly, glancing out at the other revellers as we remain amongst the few not dancing now.

‘Sometimes being a “grown-up”’ – he forms quotation marks with his fingers – ‘about it makes it heavier and harder. You expect more from yourself. You put a face on it.’ He sighs heavily. ‘I know how that feels. It’s… lonely.’

I swallow the lump forming in my throat.

He turns to look back at me. I feel nervous under his intense gaze, a swarm of butterflies fluttering about my stomach, heat rising up my neck.

Leo’s eyes are searching mine. I have to break away. I have to. This isn’t… right. I’m not meant to get close to my interviewees like this. I never get personal.

Luckily, my rescue comes in the form of Diogo, the deep-sea-fishing man.

‘Iris!’ he bellows, suddenly next to me, swaying unsteadily and stumbling between me and Leo, thankfully splintering whatever it was between us that was not meant to be forming. ‘You have to come dance!’

I don’t want to dance. I definitely don’t want to dance with Diogo, who is pissed.

But I giggle at his silliness, letting him take my hands in his and drag me away, offering Leo an apologetic smile as I’m pulled into the crowd. When I build up the courage to glance back at him, he’s not there anymore. I can’t see him anywhere. He must have left.

I’m relieved and devastated all at once.

Fuck .