Page 100 of Away We Go

Perfect.

“If you’re ready, Nicky, we’ll head off now?” Captain Alex asks, standing a respectful distance from us.

“Sounds good.”

The captain smiles and retreats to the front of the yacht and I turn around to face Nicky, loving that he doesn’t move away. That in making this move, my front is pressed all over his.

“I didn’t even ask. Where are we going?”

He glances out over the water as we drift away from the marina. “Today we’re sailing to Nice.”

“Seriously?” I clap my hands, only just stopping short of squealing and jumping up and down. “Can we get a crepe when we’re there?”

One side of his mouth hitches up as he gives me a quizzical look. “Um, of course. If that’s what you want?”

For some reason I can’t put my finger on, I feel sure that the best crepes in the world are made in Nice. It most likely stems from one of these reality shows I consume like candy, but whatever the reason is, I’m beyond thrilled to see if it’s true.

“I do.”

He stares down at me, his eyes dissecting my features before he smiles. A real Nicky smile with eye crinkles and all. “Then that’s what we’ll do.”

I squeeze him against me in a tight hug and then reluctantly let him go. “How long until we get there?”

“We’ll take our time, maybe stop for a swim along the way? So, we should be there in about two hours.”

Wonderful.“That gives me just enough time to check out every inch of this yacht.”

I’m here now and I’m going to make every one of myBelow Deckdreams come true.

• • • • •

“I don’t know how you can even call this a beach,” I comment, hours later, as Nicky and I sit on the hard pebbles they have here instead of sand. Both of us have a crepe in our hands. “It feels…unnatural.”

“That’s because you come from the land with some of the best beaches in the world,” he says as he takes a bite of his crepe, a bit of Nutella leaking onto the side of his mouth.

I lean over and wipe it away with my thumb, watching as his eyes darken at the contact. Concealing a shudder, I focus back on the treat in my hand.

“I mean, I get that. But can anyone properly hang out at the beach, with no sand?” The pebbles under my butt are already causing me to shift with discomfort.

Nicky shrugs. “Well, I like it.”

“Huh, that’s right. You hate sand!”

His cheeks heat and he waves me away with one of his big hands. “What’s not to hate about sand? It sticks to everything and is impossible to get rid of.”

My mind casts back to when I was eight years old and my family went on a trip down to the beach. Matt and Nicky were sixteen at the time and had reluctantly come along with us, spending the whole day acting like they were too cool to have any fun. I remember being in awe of my brother’s best friend, even then, and when he’d spent ten minutes at the end of the day washing the sand off his feet, I’d sat nearby and done the same.

It’s a sweet memory and one that shows how little things have changed. I’m still that girl in awe of this boy; only now, perhaps he may feel the same about me…

“Fine, whatever. The beaches here are weird, but the place is gorgeous.”

After docking at the marina, we’d spent the afternoon exploring all the cobbled streets and little laneways. If I’d been enamoured with Imola, then I’m in love with Nice.

“And,” I continue as I lick the tips of my fingers. “I was right. These are the best crepes ever.”

Nicky nods. “Do you want to stay in town and have dinner? Or we can eat on the yacht?”

I look around at all the outdoor cafes and restaurants lining the beachfront boulevard. Just like it’s depicted in the movies, everything screams quaint French seaside with outdoor patio spaces draped in striped awnings and fairy lights. There are enormous umbrellas to offer shade from the afternoon sun, interspersed with vibrant-coloured chairs and tables. If it weren’t for the streams of tourists milling about, some recognising Nicky despite his cap and sunglasses, I’d want to stay here as long as possible.

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