‘To the beach!’ he echoed, but I was timid walking ahead of him. I hoped I looked okay. He’d called me pretty and I wanted, puzzlingly, to do that compliment justice, even if I’d been terrible at accepting it. I’d put on a bit of waterproof mascara but that was it, because there’s no point getting dolled up for the beach. I figured he’d seen me looking worse at bootcamp, and even though I’d lingered over my make-up bag in the bathroom and had briefly considered making more of an effort, ultimately I wasn’t trying to impress anyone. Not that I only wear lipstick to impress men, obviously. Mum would think I was lazy for being so low-key, but it wasn’t a beauty pageant. And anyway, make-up or not, Patrick had seemed to mean it when he said I looked nice.

I pulled at the strap of my bikini and smoothed out the fabric of my jean shorts. When I half-turned to hold the door for him, I caught him looking in the hallway mirror and patting down his hair with his free hand, like a little boy on picture day. It was a tiny gesture of self-doubt at odds with his outward confidence.

‘After you,’ I said, deliberately smiling widely like a good, friendly mate. The door clicked closed behind us.

The beach had mammoth grassy banks and winding narrow roads that led to miles and miles of curved picture-perfect white sand. The water was the colour you choose when finger painting as a child: light blue with crisp white breaks where the waves crash in, although it was calm further out. Trees and sand dunes lined the banks behind us as we walked down to the shore, deciding where to set ourselves up. Bianca honked her horn as she drove off. Being hand-delivered to the beach by a limo was the most glamorous thing I’d ever do in my life.

‘Here?’ I said, wanting to throw down a blanket and rush out to put my feet in the water. Patrick placed the picnic hamper the hotel had packed for us on the sand, sighed cheerfully, and closed his eyes.

‘What’s that song about sand dunes and salty air? I’ve got it playing in my head.’

‘Oh yeah,’ I said, unloading sunscreen and my book from my bag. ‘I know the one.’ I inhaled deeply and closed my eyes too. All I could hear was the waves, and all I could feel was the warmth of the sun on my face. Glorious. Needed. Perfect.

‘Do you mind?’

I opened my eyes and Patrick was waving the bottle of sun cream at me.

‘My shoulders, you see. They burn.’

I took it from him. ‘Come here then,’ I said.