Page 170 of Green Flag
I found one of the bedrooms and started to unpack my clothes, hunting for a bathing suit to go straight into the pool.
Or maybe even the sea.
With no one around to see me or care, I might even wear a bikini.
There was no one to judge me and some sun always helped my psoriasis.
“Just one little dip in the seawater won’t hurt,” I said aloud to myself.
I found a bikini with the tiniest straps for the lack of tan lines and changed, singing a tune from some new music I’d started recording the other week.
My psoriasis was particularly bad as I hadn’t been great with my lotions and potions. Whenever I went through a depressive episode — which wasn’t particularly often anymore — I neglected my health.
My psoriasis was one of the first things to no longer care for.
Even when it was one of the first things to trigger a depressive episode.
It became a vicious cycle.Neglect it, flare up. Flare up, spiral. Spiral, neglect it again.
I shoved my Kindle and a towel into a bag, slipped on my sandals, took off all jewellery other than my mother’s ring and headed down to the sandy beach, a bowl of strawberries from the packed fridge in hand.
I was going to relish in this little retreat for one.
One thing I’d always wished to have the confidence for was a solo holiday. But lying there on my towel, snacking on strawberries, I wasn’t flexible enough to rub SPF into half of my back - how did people do this? Ask strangers?
There weren’t any strangers.
I was completely alone.
Maybe that was good for me.
Over the last few months, I’d filled my calendar and social media with people I didn’t really care for, falling back into bad habits and starting to care about their opinions.
Lying there, soaking in the sun and getting into a smutty novel, my mind travelled back to Luca.
Because, of course, any mention of ‘cock’ or ‘fuck’ or ‘cum’ made me think of the man that I imagined the male main character to be.
In every scene, there he was, making the protagonist blush.
But he was a little too dark for my liking.
A little too serious.
My Luca wasn’t. He was perfect.
Yes, he should have told me about the report. But I understood it. It wasn’t an excuse.
I sighed, angry at myself and shoved another sand-splattered strawberry into my mouth.
There was nothing left to do but to think about Luca.
And to promise myself that the next time I saw him, I would talk to him.
Because I hadn’t gone into that night of fucking with the intention of it being a one-off or the end of our friendship.
I’d gone into it wanting to please him and myself.
I’d wanted to get as close as I could to Luca Mendes.
