“Oh, it’s no joke,” Alex says. “I don’t have a sense of humor, remember? I’m uptight and bossy. My soul is as black as the night sky. I’d never do anything as puerile as making ajoke.”
“It must be theuniverse’sidea of a joke, then,” I say, still struggling to believe the cruel twist of fate that has thrown the two of us together, not just once, but three separate times now. “It’s as if it’s determined to make us keep bumping into each other.”
“It must be fate,” mutters Alex, with unmistakable sarcasm which I decide it’s best to ignore.
The sky in front of us is slowly turning from soft pink to liquid gold as it starts to set over the island of La Gomera, which floats in the sea in front of us, lights twinkling along its distant coastline. It’s so beautiful that the sight makes even Alex and I stop bickering while we watch it.
“If you watch really closely, you can sometimes see the green flash in the second before it sets,” says Alex quietly, from the other side of the wall. I get up and go to lean on the balcony, and, after a second, he comes to join me, the barrier between us low enough to make it feel almost as if we’re standing together.
The sun reaches the rugged tip of the island, and, just as Alex said, there’s a short flash of bright green just before it sets, leaving a pale wash of pink on the horizon.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” he says, softly. I nod, my eyes still fixed on the sky.
We stand there until the sun has completely disappeared, then he glances over at me cautiously.
“Look, about earlier,” he begins. “I’m sorry if I upset you. I wasn’t actually trying to. I know it probably didn’t seem that way, but I took ittoo far. I swear I don’t go around trying to make women throw things. Well, not all the time, anyway.”
“It’s okay,” I sigh, pulling my sweater around me as I go to sit back down at the little table on my balcony. “It wasn’t your fault. I shouldn’t have said that. I’d tucked the tablecloth into my dress. I’d have pulled it off like that no matter when I stood up.”
He looks at me thoughtfully.
“Peace offering?” he says, holding out a small packet of salt and vinegar pretzels, which I recognize from the minibar.
“It’s fine,” I tell him, waving them away. “I’ve already got some of my own. And anyway, those things are like 5 euros a pop. Are you sure you want to be eating them?”
“I’ve decided to join you in living recklessly,” he says, sitting down at his own table, which is in an identical position to mine, with just the low wall separating us. “Although, be warned, this packet of pretzels is as reckless as it gets for me. I’m not operating at your level.”
“That’s a shame,” I reply, glancing over at him. “Think of all the fun you could have destroying dinner tables and waiting for childhood crushes to call you back.”
I look down at my phone, which I’ve placed carefully on the table next to my diary, so I’ll hear it the second it rings.
Which it hasn’t.
Damn.
“That’s true,” Alex says thoughtfully. “And you haven’t eventriedto ride a motorcycle yet. Although, if tonight’s performance is anything to go by… well, just remind me to make sure I’m somewhere far away when that happens, okay?”
“Aren’t you supposed to be making peace with me after you were so horrible earlier?” I ask, eyebrows raised.
“Um, yes. Absolutely. So, er, what else is in this diary of yours, then?” he says quickly. “Or do I not want to know?”
“Youknowyou don’t,” I point out. “You think it’s weird and stupid and I know you’re only asking to make up for what happened earlier. Or so you can have somethingelseto make fun of me for.”
“I promise I won’t make fun of you,” he says solemnly. “Scout’s honor.”
He gives a little three-fingered salute, which may or may not have something to do with the Scouts.
“Anyway,” he goes on, spoiling it slightly. “I got more than enough ammunition from you on the plane and at dinner tonight. You won’t have to do anything stupid for ages now.”
“And here was I thinking you didn’t have a sense of humor,” I reply dryly. “God, I can’t believe you’re actually staying in the room next door. What did I do to deserve this?”
“You must have been really bad in a past life or something,” Alex replies, tearing open his bag of pretzels and settling back in his patio chair. “I’m assuming you believe in that kind of thing, too?”
“No, I don’t, actually,” I reply. “I’m really quite sensible most of the time, I’ll have you know.”
“If you say so. So, are you going to read some more of this famous diary, then?”
I look down at my phone again.
