“Nooo, I always win and you always get bitter about it.” I interrupt, laughing slightly.
“I’m never bitter.”
I simply level him with a stare.
“Ok so maybe I get a little bitter.” Jake admits but goes on to just shake his head, changing the subject. “Do you want me to send you the pictures from today?”
“Oh, yes please. Do you want my number?” I ask, reaching for my phone.
“Yep, give ’em to me.”
I read out my number, and Jake annoyingly repeats each number after me as he types them in.
He sends me a quick text just to check, and my phone lights up with the notification. He sends me the pictures of our day in Palma and I spend the next couple of minutes going through them and laughing as I revisit the moment captured within them. +
I hadn’t really seen Jake on his phone the whole time I’ve known him, but when his phone flashes with a text next to me, he picks it up fast. I watch his eyes quickly scan the message before he frowns, putting his phone away. I know it’s none of my business, but I can’t help wishing I knew what it had said. 5
We get back to the hotel and my parents leave Jake and me with some time together.
“So, what do you want to do?” I ask him.
“I have an idea.” He says, a smirk slowly coming to rest on his face. He places his hand in mine and starts to lead me towards the small shingle beach. Although it was only a few days ago since we were last there, it feels like ages since I’d last stepped foot on the smooth pebbles.
Jake leads me past the beach and up to the rocks we used to jump into the sea. “I’m not jumping in if that’s what you’re thinking, I haven’t got my swimsuit on.” I say.
“Who said anything about jumping in, Bloom?” He replies, lowering himself into a sitting position on the rock, legs out on front of him as he leans back on his hands. I take a seat next to him and we sit there, not saying anything, just listening to the waves as they lap on the stones.
We sit in silence for a while and I shift as my back starts to ache.
“Here.” Jake lowering himself onto his back, one arm behind his head, the other stretched out beside him. I lower myself down next to him, resting my head on his shoulder and my hand on his chest, his arm coming up to wrap itself around my shoulders. 5
I gently rub circles on his chest as it rises and falls, his hand slowly tracing random patterns up and down my arm. “Have I finally earned the right to know your favourite colour?” Jake asks, breaking the silence once again.
“What?” I ask, looking up at him, confused.
“That day I took you to the arcade. You’d just beaten me at air hockey and we sat down, and I asked you what your favourite colour was. You told me it was information I had to earn.”
The memory comes back to me easily, Jake had just found out that I was, in actual fact, not French and had pushed me into the pool. “Amber.” I say.
“Yes, well done, that is your name.” Jake says, slightly confused.
“No,” I say, laughing, and hitting him on the chest, “my favourite colour. My favourite colour is amber.”
He doesn’t make a joke like I expected him to; in fact, he doesn’t say anything at all. He just meets my eyes, and kisses me. 1
He kisses me, and kisses me, and kisses me. Grabbing me by the waist and shifting so that he’s hovering above me, my back pressed against the rock. My hands find their way into his hair and I curl the soft strands around my fingers, holding him closer as the waves on the rocks continue to be the only sound. I feel him smile against my lips, and I can’t possibly stop myself from smiling too. 1
Because I’m happy. Jake makes me happy. He makes me laugh, and he makes me smile, and he makes me feel so content to just be me. And as we lie here, on this rock, I know I’ll remember this feeling for the rest of my life.
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