She has a look in her eye I don’t entirely like, but there’s no time to say anything, because there – standing at the door and smiling widely at the pool and the fake birds and the sunloungers – is Rowan. And he’s here to see me.

I take my sunglasses off.

Cecelia stands up and smacks him over the shoulder.

‘You kids have fun,’ she says, closing the door behind her with a wink.

83

Alice and Rowan

And now I am locked inside my own small world with Rowan.

I smile, looking around

at the pebble floor and the

giant bath in the corner.

‘Did you do all this?’

I shake my head, pointing at myself reclining on the sunlounger.

‘Lugging a beach up here is perhaps a little out of my league.’

Shit.

I walk over to her and stop short

so I’m just staring down at her.

‘Sorry, I didn’t mean …

that was a stupid thing to say.’

‘No, it wasn’t – I knew what you meant. It was my idea, yes. I know it’s not a real beach, but it’s …’

‘Better,’ I say,

looking at the closed door.

I smile. ‘I think so, too.’

He dithers from foot to foot and I tug on the bottom of his jeans. ‘Well, sit down, then. There’s a lounger for you, too.’

‘Um – yeah, okay,’ I say.

I take my shoes and hoodie off

and lie down next to her,

our fingers almost touching.

For a moment, we just lie there, looking up at the swirl of the ceiling and the gulls dancing from strings, listening to Rowan’s shallow breaths slowly rolling in time to the wave noises coming from the speakers.

I should probably say something.

Or maybe I should just

hold her.

Kiss her while I still can.

I sneak a glance at her and

she’s smiling.

Looking up at the ceiling like

it really is the sky.

And she looks so completely –

Alice.

My hand reaches over

the edge of my sunlounger.

I look down and see his hand inching across the divide between us, but not quite daring to go all the way.

My chest feels heavy and light all at once, like I’ve swallowed an iron cloud.

I flick my eyes to his and he’s looking at me. Lips parted, eyes almost afraid.

Rowan.

I unwind my own hand and reach out.

Our fingertips touch.

So lightly, they might not even

be touching at all.

She touches each of her fingers

to mine.

I run my fingerprints

into her palm.

The waves are steady, but I’m not.

I look at him and he smiles. And it’s an impossible smile – like he’s stumbled across some rare treasure buried under the floorboards of his living room.