Page 91 of Ride the Wave

‘You okay?’ he asks, concerned. ‘You look a bit spaced out.’

‘I… I just…’ My mouth is so dry. I swallow and start again. ‘I wasn’t expecting this.’

His forehead creases. ‘Sorry, you know, now I’m here, maybe this is too much, I should have checked—’

‘No! No, it’s not too much,’ I say, beaming at him, the muscles in my face finally springing into action to yank my mouth up into a proper smile and reassure him. ‘It’s wonderful. It’s so lovely, I can’t…’ I trail off, taking a deep breath. ‘You really want to go on a proper date with me?’

His eyes fix on mine, the worry etched across his face fading away into a warm smile, the crinkles making a fine appearance. ‘Yes, I do.’ He hesitates, his eyebrows lifting. ‘Do you want to go on a proper date with me?’

What a stupid question. Idiotic, mad, adorably foolish.

‘Yes, Leo,’ I say, my heart thudding. ‘I’d love to.’

‘Okay then. Let’s do this.’ He nods to my bedroom door. ‘You should go get ready.’

As I turn round, he stops me by saying, ‘Oh, wait, you want me to put those in water?’ gesturing to the bouquet of flowers.

‘No, it’s okay, I’ll sort it,’ I say, smiling shyly as I hug the flowers to my body, unable to admit out loud that I want to look at them while I get ready. ‘They’re such a beautiful colour.’

‘The same pink as the dress you wore the first night you arrived here, when you walked down to the beach,’ he says as though that’s obvious.

Where did this man come from?

My stomach flipping, I don’t trust myself to speak, so I give him a quick nod and then start making my way to the bedroom. I place the bouquet down on the bed and can hear him rustling around in the bag in the kitchen. After a moment of staring at the flowers, I poke my head round the door again. His forehead is etched in concentration as he pulls various items carefully out of the bag one by one, careful not to spill anything.

‘Leo.’

He snaps his head up. ‘Yes?’

‘I haven’t seen a florist around here.’

‘No,’ he answers.

‘Is there a florist in Burgau?’

He gazes across the room at me, the hint of a smile on his lips as though he’s been caught out. ‘No,’ he confirms.

I bite my lip to stop a stupidly-wide grin breaking across my face.‘Leo?’

‘Yeees?’

‘Did you drive somewhere just to get me flowers?’

‘Go get ready, London,’ he says, rolling his eyes and returning his attention to the food. ‘We don’t want to miss our dinner reservation.’

I slowly shut the door, leaning back against it and exhaling, my heart swelling so big in my chest, I wonder if it might burst right out of there at any moment.

25

If all dates were this easy, I would take back my comment to Flora about choosing books over men. I know that’s a big thing to say, but that’s how good this date is.

The thoughtfulness of this surprise evening encouraged me to make an effort with my appearance; if this was going to be a proper first date, I needed to dress for it, like I would any other, even if it was taking place on my balcony.

It’s a warm evening, and it felt like a special one, so I slipped on one of my favourite outfits: a burgundy mini dress with a high neckline, contoured bodice and cap sleeves, gold embellishment on the pockets. I had to sneak out in my robe to grab some pointed-toe stilettos from the shoe stand next to the door, scurrying back into my room before he could see the finished look. With my hair swept up into a loose updo, tendrils framing my face, I added some statement gold earrings, a slick of mascara, bronzer and plum lipstick.

When I emerged out onto the balcony, he was in the middle of putting out the cutlery.

As he looked up, the forks he was holding slipped onto the table with a loud clatter. His eyes widened and his lips parted. I blushed furiously under his gaze. Men have looked at me before, and I’ve known what they’re thinking, but no one’s ever looked at me like that.

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