“Damn it!” I said, just as I felt the first fat drop of water hit my head. I forced my feet into the shoes without bothering with my socks, which I stuffed into the back pocket of my shorts. More fat drops.

“Oh, bugger it,” I said, slinging the tank top around my neck. I shoved my phone in my front pocket and looked up to see that Josh was way ahead of me, having scaled the first three boulders. He got to the bottom of the biggest one—the one I’d scooched down—and waited for me. I followed as quickly as I could.

“Here, let me give you a boost.” He locked his hands together so I could use them as a foothold. I put my right foot into his hands and with his help, pulled myself up onto the boulder. I scraped my knee in the process, but I was up. More and more fat raindrops fell.

Josh followed me and by the time we got to the road, it was pelting down with rain. And we’d left the top down! Josh was first to the car, pulling the fob out of his pocket before he climbed in. He started the car and pressed the mechanism to close the roof. I was left out in the rain, because I was waiting to climb in on that side.

“Oh shit, sorry,” he said, realising. He got out of the car, just as the roof was settling into place and I climbed in and slid across to my side, promptly sitting in a pool of rainwater.

Great. Now I look like I shat myself and pissed myself.

When Josh got back in the car, I suddenly remembered the beach towels. “Oh crap, crap, crap.” I put my hand to my mouth.

He was trying to dry off the steering wheel with his hands. “What?”

“The towels,” I said, looking at him with wide eyes and a grimace.

Josh went back for them while I watched the rain cascade down the windscreen. They were sodden, and he put them straight into the boot. When he climbed into the driver’s seat and looked at me, he was completely saturated, drops of water falling from his nose and eyelashes.

We burst out laughing.

“It’s like that day on Naxos,” I said through my laughter, referring to a day out on our sailing trip.

“Oh, my god, yes.” We’d been riding scooters up in the hills of Naxos on our way to lunch—me on the back of Josh’s scooter—and we got stuck in a massive rainstorm. By the time we arrived at the café, all seven of us were completely wet through. The woman who owned the café, Martika, had given us towels to dry off and clean, dry shirts to put on. It was my favourite day of the trip.

Just then, as suddenly as it had started, the rained stopped. “Shall we chance it?” Josh asked, his finger hovering over the button to put the roof down again.