Like yesterday, I decided to take a morning swim before having breakfast. This time I didn’t snorkel, or even put in any effort. I just glided over the water, revelling in my weightless state, the salty water a healing ingredient that burned all my cuts.

I marvelled at the magical world underneath the surface, which was now hidden from me. It was strange how it all became so threatening when you couldn’t see. My mind drew connections, and suddenly I realised why people said ignorance brewed fear and hatred. Here I was, not knowing what was underneath despite having seen it yesterday. I didn’t know what manner of fish lurked under the surface; what currents might sweep me away. I feared it, and therefore repelled it.

But I had knowledge of the sea depths of Cyprus. I fought my fear, knowing full well there were no dangerous fish or sharks or sea monsters lurking in the nooks of underwater rocks.

In the end, no matter how much I tried to distract myself, I found myself wishing that Jason would be perched on the blocks of the breakwater to the right of the beach, waving down at me. But he was nowhere to be seen.

A little disappointed, I swam back to the beach.

Breakfast was, as always, delicious. I smiled and waved at Jas, who was hurrying about to serve all the hotel guests. She sashayed over to my table, and in a pretend posh accent, addressed me as she would a rich businesswoman.

‘May I serve you some coffee, madam?’ She batted her eyelashes and flashed me a polite smile.

I rolled my eyes. ‘You know damn well that I don’t drink coffee. But I’ll have some iced tea, please.’ I finished my order with a wink, and smiling broadly, Jasmine sauntered away and returned with my drink. I swallowed it in one gulp, ate my scrambled eggs and bacon, and headed back to the apartment.

There, I snapped open the laptop and hovered my hands resolutely over the keyboard. I needed to research. I needed to know how to be an excellent receptionist. Firstly, the research informed that a hotel receptionist would do well to know multiple languages. I figured I already had that covered. I spoke Swedish and Greek, since I was half of each, and of course English fluently. I knew a bit of German that I had learnt from school, just enough to cover the basics but nowhere near enough to hold a longer conversation. At the start of summer I had decided to learn Russian, which I could honestly say was going well.

The research also stated that one must be friendly, always smiling and willing to help the customer with any problems whatsoever, and suggestive regarding advice and tips to make guests feel at ease at the hotel.

Huh, I could manage that. Or at least I thought so. I would have to learn about possible excursions and restaurants, to be able to suggest places for them to go on their adventures, and I’d probably need to learn a thing or two about local history. I could do a bit of studying; I’d always liked academia.

The research went on to say that a receptionist needed to be good at IT, which I definitely was not, but I figured that I’d be taught the specifics by my colleague and would just have to get used to the programmes I would be using. See, there was nothing to worry about.

When I’d had enough, I closed the laptop and decided to seek out the currently stationed and moody receptionist and spy on her as she worked. It would give me an idea on what to expect during the morning shifts. She was sitting at the desk now, broodingly snapping away on the computer, her mouth set in a horizontal line. Wrinkles were ever-present on her forehead and her eyes held a stormy expression.

I figured she was good at IT and nothing else.

Just as I was about to step into the area behind the desk and see what she was doing, I saw a long, graceful figure move into my line of vision. I froze. I was staring right at a broad, V-shaped back. The muscles rippled as he moved, and I was mesmerised by his display of strength. He walked so straight, holding himself so proudly. Even the receptionist glanced up, eyes fixing on him, which really proved that nobody was immune to his allure.

Jason put his palms flat on the desk and leaned toward the receptionist, murmuring something I couldn’t hear. She nodded vigorously, eyes wide and disbelieving. Then she caught sight of me just standing there, transfixed on the marble floor like an ancient statue.

Noticing that her attention had been diverted, Jason turned slowly, as if in slow-motion. His eyebrows were raised in question as he followed the receptionist’s gaze.

I flushed, feeling like a science project at a school fair.

When he recognised me, Jason’s flawless features smoothed out into a gorgeous, if slightly wicked, half-smile.

I blinked, his beauty rendering me incapable of using any other sense besides sight.

‘Well, well, look who’s here,’ he greeted jovially.

I shook myself, mentally slapping my cheek.

‘Hi,’ I said brilliantly.

‘I’m heading over to the gym right now, you coming?’

Wow, he really didn’t waste any time on formalities.

‘Actually, yeah. But I’m taking my car. And I need to change. So, how do I find this place?’

‘I’ll wait. You can just follow my car.’

I was surprised. ‘Oh, really?’

He shrugged. ‘I’m not in a hurry.’

I remembered I had to tell him about Blake. ‘I have this friend…’ I began, a little unsure whether I could call him that yet. ‘He wants to join too, so I’ll bring him with me, if that’s okay?’ Ugh, why was I asking his permission?

He grinned. ‘Fine by me.’

‘Okay!’ I squeaked like a five-year-old. Embarrassed, I quickly added, ‘I’ll be back in like ten minutes.’

He nodded and sauntered over to the lounging sofas by the corner of the reception hall. There he gracefully sat down, crossing his ankles in front of him. He looked completely and totally at ease with himself.

I whirled and practically ran out of there.

Back in my room, I hastily changed, putting on a sports bra, my work-out outfit, and my white running shoes. I dumped a small towel in a sports bag, along with deodorant, a hairbrush and several hair-ties. I quickly glanced at myself in the mirror. You can do this. The woman in the mirror steeled herself.

Then I picked up my phone, searching for Blake in my contact list. He answered on the second ring.

‘Blake.’

For a moment I was surprised that he answered in the same brusque way that I did, but I quickly recovered.

‘Blake, I’m heading to the gym now, if you want to come?’

‘Ah, short notice.’ He sounded a little irritated.

‘Yep,’ I returned, totally not caring. ‘Can you be ready in five minutes? Come to the reception.’ I hung up.

I rushed back to the reception, my face surely flushed from exertion and stress. When I was back, Jason lifted his gaze to me, amused. Before I could open my mouth and say something, Blake strolled in, face set in harsh lines. For a moment I thought that he was related to the receptionist.

He was wearing a black t-shirt much too big for his slim body. It just hung there like a rag, having nothing substantial to cling to. He was also wearing black football shorts that reached his bony knees, and his skinny legs stuck out from beneath them, pale but covered in black leg hair. His feet were stuck into black basketball shoes, and I eyed them, impressed. Maybe Blake made use of his height in some sporty way; perhaps he had played basketball in his youth. But then I noted his lack of arm and leg muscles and decided that any sports activities must have been short-term.

When he saw Jason, his entire expression changed. His mouth didn’t flop open, but he eyed him up and down as he effortlessly rose from the sofa. I expected Jason to give Blake a “I’m so much better than you” look, but Jason seemed a little taken aback when he registered Blake’s Slenderman-like body. While Jason was tall, I’d guess just over six feet, Blake was even taller, unnaturally so. He must have been pushing six foot seven. It punctuated his skinniness even more.

Jason strode over to him, extended his arm, and shook Blake’s hand with rigid force. Blake swallowed, looking a little shaken.

‘I’m Jason,’ he said simply, nodding at Blake with unreadable eyes.

‘Blake.’ He shifted awkwardly, looking anywhere but at me and Jason. It was Jason who broke the silence.

‘Well, I’ll get my car, and you follow,’ he ordered.

Blake and I nodded in unison. I walked over to where my car was parked, Blake trailing behind like a stray dog. After about a dozen feet I’d had enough and sneaked a peak at him. He appeared deep in thought.

‘You know the guy I mentioned Jas was checking out?’

‘Yeah?’

‘You just met him.’

Blake’s expression transformed into one of pain. I felt bad for him, but there wasn’t much I could do, especially since I happened to be just as stricken by Jason’s muscular beauty, despite him not even being my type.

We reached my car at last. I started it and let it run for a few minutes before getting in, Blake awkwardly scrambling into the passenger seat, hunching his head and spreading his long legs wide so he’d fit. I hitched an eyebrow at him.

‘You get this problem a lot?’

He shot me another pained look. ‘Yeah,’ he sighed.

I turned the ignition and backed out, spotting Jason doing the same. I checked out his car, snorting a little when I realised it was the kind of car all Cypriots had. It was a black terrain car marred with dirt, and all the windows were open, Jason’s left arm slung lazily out of the driver’s window. He stuck his head out, and the messy hair flapping in the wind made him look adorable. Seeing me, he made a "follow me" motion with his hand, and I waited for him to drive up, following after him.

During the ride, Blake turned his focus inward and was silent, so I found my mind wandering away on a terrain of wishful thoughts about Jason.

I wanted him. I had to admit that to myself. I looked at him and felt such an overwhelming desire to touch him that it felt out of this world. Was it normal to be so attracted to someone? Even standing far away from him had affected me significantly, so how would I react when I found myself in his proximity during practice?

Suddenly I was praying to whatever god that would listen that I didn’t feel anything inappropriate while I was near him, say like, sexually aroused. If that happened, I would gladly hurl myself over the balcony.

He must know, I thought. He does. He knew the effect he had on women. It had been evident on the beach. I flashbacked to the image of him glancing around himself with cocky assurance, knowing full well that he had every female getting moist—and not because of the sea—and every male fuming with jealousy.

I couldn’t say I particularly liked that aspect of him. I’d never felt drawn to arrogant men before. Normally I was attracted to cute-looking nerds. The irony was that such men have never been drawn to me. I supposed it was about time I tried to like a different type of man, even though I was fully aware that there were probably hundreds of women competing for Jason’s attention.

That’s when I decided that I must not ever show him that I liked him. I just couldn’t. Not only would it probably scare him and make him draw away from me, but it would just be unnecessarily painful for me too, since I knew I’d never be good enough for him. The best I could hope for was friendship, and that was good enough for me.

The thought of being around him all day made me giddy. I wanted to see how he spent his time, how he got by, what music he listened to, and generally how life was for men that were as handsome as he was. It must have been completely different from how it was for men like Blake.

Speaking of, I glanced at my passenger and supposed new friend. Blake was staring right at me. I blanched, worried that he was angry at me. Or maybe he was looking too closely at my blemished, porous skin. I felt myself drawing inwards, hoping to disappear, not wanting to feel his eyes on me when we were this close. As my unease grew, Blake’s brow furrowed in confusion.

‘Why do you do that?’ he asked, voice mirroring his expression.

‘Do what?’ I returned, a little breathless.

‘When people look at you closely, you shrink.’

I turned silent. Did I shrink? I tried to force myself to relax, and realised then how tense I was. My shoulders ached a little, and it felt good to straighten my spine, letting out my belly a little.

‘See? That’s better,’ he said, nodding at me in approval.

I gave him a troubled look. ‘I just don’t like it.’

‘Like what?’

‘When people stare at me. Like I’m a freak.’ Sadness overcame me. It felt okay to admit it to Blake, who probably felt the same way. ‘I know I’m not…pretty, and, well, I’m fat, but it’s horrible to have people look at you not because you’re beautiful but because you’re an anomaly.’

Blake was staring at me, disbelief and horror competing for his facial expression.

‘Look, I feel the same way,’ he said quickly, dismissing himself while he shook his head. ‘But you shouldn’t feel that way. People don’t look at you because you’re an anomaly; you aren’t! You’re pretty,’ he admitted, looking a little shy to say it. ‘You may not be perfect, but you’re definitely not ugly.’ I noticed that he didn’t deny the fact that I was fat, and if he had I would have just laughed.

‘Thanks, but I’m aware of how I look like and I know I look like crap. I’ve come to terms with it.’ I shrugged. ‘I don’t care anymore. Not enough anyway.’

Blake opened his mouth to disagree, but I just shook my head, and he went silent again. I didn’t want to hear it. I didn’t believe him and I had never believed Jas either. I wouldn’t allow myself to believe anyone. That’s not what a realist did. A realist accepted the truth and lived with it. And I accepted the truth of my appearance and here I was, living with it.

I recalled my single solitary intimate experience with a guy. The first time I’d had a drink, I’d been sixteen. We’d been to a bar that offered free shots and free drinks and whatever, and I’d stupidly ended up there, on an empty stomach, downing the disgusting burning liquids. Not before long, I’d gotten drunk, giggling and wobbling. Suddenly, everything seemed fun. A short blonde guy, completely unspectacular appearance-wise, had checked me out.

Unfortunately, I had been acting typically young and stupid, and I had let him lead me astray from my group of friends. We’d ended up in a dark alley, where he had pressed me against the rough wall of a building, fiercely pressing his lips against mine as I’d fought to understand what was going on through the hazy fog of drunkenness.

My lips had replied automatically, like I’d been programmed to know how to kiss pre-birth. I knew it was absurd, but when his tongue slid into my mouth I’d known exactly what to do as I kissed him back. Despite the fact that we were kissing, I felt nothing. None of the things I’d read about in books. No fireworks, no electricity sizzling through me, no tingling in private areas. Quite frankly, it had been was a stark disappointment.

As my sixteen-year-old self realised she wasn’t enjoying the make-out session, I’d begun to push against him, protesting. But he had been insistent, his hands flicking against me, touching my breasts, my behind; touching me in my most private areas.

After what had seemed like ages, I managed to muster up enough strength and will to push him off me, and I had stumbled away from him, trying to get back to my friends. He’d slid his hand into mine, casually strolling next to me as if nothing had happened.

I shuddered with disgust at the memory. I hated him for what he had done. I hated him for using a drunken girl like that, but more importantly, I hated myself for the mistake. I had gotten myself into a vulnerable position by getting drunk and not knowing how to protect myself. And thus I’d lost my first kiss, my first intimate moments, with a guy I hadn’t wanted and now hated.

That same day, I’d sworn off alcohol altogether. Three years later, I still hadn’t had a sip of alcohol and neither had I touched a man again. The strange thing was that I was fine with it. I was fine with never being popular, never touching a man, never getting a boyfriend, never losing my virginity, never getting married, and never having kids. Those things were not important enough for me to want to change something about myself and really strive to achieve them.

However, since I was a heterosexual, young and hormonal woman, I couldn’t help wanting Jason. I couldn’t help the way my body responded to his presence. And I found that, even though I was taking self-defence classes primarily for my own health, it was rather convenient that I might become more fit as time passed, and consequently, more fit as a potential partner for Jason.

Ugh. I shook away the thought; I really couldn’t think like that.

I notice then that we’d reached a white square building, and Jason parked his car in the parking lot to the right. I eased my car into the empty spot next to him.

I gripped the steering wheel hard, shooting Blake a look. ‘Ready?’

‘Ready,’ he said, looking totally not-ready.

We both slid out of the car like heroes in an action movie. The resemblance was reinforced when Jason waved his hand in a “follow me” motion, turning on his heel and marching resolutely into the set of glass doors that marked the gym’s entrance. I noticed the sign above the door. “James’ MMA and GYM”. I pondered a little over why businesses bothered using overly common names in their brand names.

The reception inside was well-conditioned but not cold. Jason slunk in on the other side of the reception desk, having a quick, subdued word with his colleague. When he was finished, he summoned us so we could pay, and I saw that he’d offered us both a significant discount. Stunned, I blurted out a gracious thank you, which Blake echoed. After that, Blake and I sort of lingered about aimlessly, not knowing what to do next.

As if just noticing we were still standing there, Jason glanced up at us. ‘The changing rooms are to your left. You can dump your bags there.’

I nodded brusquely, catching Jason’s eye as he smiles impishly at me. I bolted away to the left.

The changing room was well-lit and typically furnished with wooden benches and colourless lockers. Blake and I stuffed our bags into the locker, and the key was conveniently attached to a rubber band, which I slid onto my wrist.

We trudged back to the reception, where Jason was leaning against the wall, looking confident and at ease with himself.

‘Ready?’ he asked us. We both just nodded.