I’m doing it!

I run towards the pool, with a level of athleticism I haven’t shown since never. By the time I reach the edge of the pool, I couldn’t stop if I wanted to. I jump in – I don’t know if it’s head first or feet first. I don’t suppose it’s either. It doesn’t feel like a very graceful manoeuvre, but I’ve done it, and I’m so proud of myself.

As the icy cold water hits every inch of my body like a million tiny knives, I kind of wish I hadn’t bothered. I don’t feel liberated, I feel as if I’m going to get hypothermia. But as soon as I come up for air and swim towards the edge of the infinity pool, I finally take in the incredible view of the beach and the ocean, low down on the ground below me. Everyone looks so small from up here, and I feel a million miles from anyone. It’s just me and my pool, and it’s amazing.

‘Good morning, Lila.’

I turn around and see Freddie, standing next to the pool, holding a fishing net. He looks so good, I want to bite my lip. His body is ripped with muscle – muscle everywhere, muscles on his muscles! I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone with a body like this in real life. Given that he isn’t wearing anything but a pair of small, tight swimming shorts, I can see a lot.

And then I remember what I’m wearing. Nothing.

‘What the hell are you doing?’ I ask.

With absolutely zero grace I scramble closer to him, so I can hide my nakedness behind the wall of the pool. If I can just hang onto a little bit of my dignity, that will be great.

‘I’m fishing mosquitos out of the pool,’ he replies. ‘What does it look like I’m doing?’

‘Like… like you’re being a pervert,’ I reply. I’m not sure if my face is red with anger or embarrassment – I think it’s a bit of both.

The last thing I expected to see out here was the barman from last night, cleaning my pool. I suppose he does a few different jobs here, and I know that he needs to make a living, but shouldn’t he be cleaning the pool when no one is planning on using it? I don’t care how fit he is.

‘I’m being a pervert?’ he says. ‘I’m not the one skinny dipping!’

‘Are you allowed to talk to me like that?’ I ask.

Freddie just laughs and takes a seat on a sunlounger. He lies back and places his hands behind his head. I am momentarily distracted by the bulge of his biceps, which look even better without a shirt on them.

I squeak in disbelief.

‘And now, what, you’re sunbathing?’

‘You’re smart,’ he says sarcastically.

‘What do you think your boss will say when I call up and say the barman is sunbathing by my pool?’ I ask.