I chuckle as my gaze sweeps the green leaves above me. Blue sky peeks through the gaps as the scents of cooking seafood mixes with garlic and aromatic herbs. I can hear the proprietor laughing with a table of English tourists as they taste ouzo, a spirit that reminds me of liquorice and is so strong it would floor me.
The two men stare at me again, desperate to make eye contact, but as much as it’s nice to be found attractive, I don’t want to be leered at. I run my fingers across the beaded wristband I made with Tabi before our holiday. Shetold me which beads were her favourite before dropping the box and watching in fascination as they scattered across the floor of the apartment I share with Sasha. She chose the pinks and purples, the one with a butterfly, and the heart-shaped one.
I sigh quietly as the sea laps the beach. The setting sun glimmers over the water.
My Sex on the Beach cocktail is an awkward reminder of how Tabi came into my life. If I’d known I’d have a baby, I’d have gotten the name of the Australian rugby player who barely rocked my world, but I was supposed to lose my virginity, not change my existence forever.
I didn’t even orgasm.
Fairy lights slowly blink on. The sun sneaks lower in the sky, and soon there will be a chill in the air.
My phone vibrates with a message from my mum.
Mum: Dad will pick you up from the airport tomorrow. Enjoy your last night, but don’t come home tired. There’s a lot for you to do in the office.
I lean my head back and close my eyes. I have to be okay with not getting my dreams or studying sports psychology. Tabi is the most important person in my life, and as long as she has everything she needs and wants, I’ll be happy. I have to be. I’ll live when she’s a settled adult.
At the smell of leather, sour aftershave and cigarette smoke, a combination so odorous I nearly gag, I open my eyes. The stench is so odorous I nearly gag on my tongue. The guy who stared at my boobs smirks as he leers. I purse my lips. He reminds me of Tabi’s dad, with his black hair and stocky build.
“You all right?” he asks with a bobbing nod. “Do you want to get out of here?”
“I’m good, thanks. I should go home.” I sip my drink.
He winks. The action makes him resemble a sneezing frog. “I could come with you. Are you staying nearby?”
I choke on my cocktail, and he pats me hard on the back, using it as an opportunity to gawk at my boobs as they jump with every tap. I pull away from him. “I’m not going to take some random guy who hasn’t asked my name home with me. And stop leering at my tits!”
“You wouldn’t wear that dress if you didn’t want me to.”
I slam my glass down, but he barely flinches. I’m not in danger, but I’m not confident walking back to my villa alone.
“Look,” I say under my breath. “I can wear what I want. It doesn’t mean I want to be treated like I’m a piece of meat or that I’m down to fuck a guy who doesn’t even ask my name.”
He rolls his eyes. His friend joins him, and soon, two bulky guys loom over me. I stand up, but at five two, I’m half a foot shorter than them. Their biceps bulge, but they forgot leg day. I’d run like the fucking wind, and they’d struggle to breathe in the dust I left behind, but I’d rather go into the taverna and wait for them to leave.
The first one paws my shoulder. “Babe, I just want?—”
“Get your fucking hands off my wife,” a deep voice shouts.
CHAPTER 4
Niki
Iturn my cap backwards and pull myself to my full six-foot height as I square up to the knuckleheads harassing the beautiful woman in the blue dress. She’s combined it with white sandals. She’s dressed like a Greek church.
And I’m totally here for it.
I noticed her chocolate brown waves that frame her face and her plump pink lips from the moment she sat outside the bar. Even now, they draw my stare.
God, I’ve not seen lips that full in a year, not since my “feckless playboy” days before my racing accident.
“Your wife?” says the guy with shorts so tight I catch the outline of his dick. I’m guessing all his brain cells are lodged in there because he continues to stare at the chest of the beautiful woman with more curves than Silverstone even though she reprimanded him. “She didn’t mention she was married.”
“How could she? So far you’ve asked her to go home with you. You didn’t even ask her name.”
“Yeah, but she’s not wearing a ring, so how would we know?”
The pretty stranger watches me with wide eyes.
