. . . a bright-blue goodbye
‘Easy there.’
Sam’s hand flies to cuff my elbow, stopping me from stacking on the rocks for maybe the fifth time in forty minutes. I nod in appreciation, too out of breath to speak, and he smiles knowingly before linking his arm through mine.
‘Maybe you should keep hold of me. Save me from fishing you out of the water.’
‘You think I’d make the fall?’
‘I’d rather not find out.’ He grips me tighter.
I take a moment to glance down at the steep drop to our right, nothing but a trail of low, uneven rocks between us and the crashing waves of the ocean. The UK could never – there’d be railings and fences everywhere. But here we are, South of France, roaming free and perilous.
‘Why did you wear Birkenstocks?’ he asks.
I yell in defence: ‘They said we were going to the beach!’
‘Hiking to the beach. The “hike” part was very clear.’
He powers on, the strength of his hold pulling me along with him as he subtly aims to catch up with the rest of the group.
Thanks to my footwear and general lack of athletic ability, we’ve created quite a gap between us and the people in front.
I didn’t realise just how bad it was, but, following his eyes now, I can barely distinguish anyone.
I scan the distant blob for Noah’s curls, try to make out his backpack, but it’s no use.
I can barely tell they’re people from here.
I take a deep breath and pick up the pace.
Sam and I ended up awake most of the night, so I was somewhat delirious when El burst in our room and shared today’s plan.
I heard ‘beach’ and ‘leave in thirty’ and jumped straight into the shower, packed a towel, book and water, and threw my new sundress (bought for me by Sara) over my bikini.
What I apparently missed was the fairly vital titbit that said beach we were visiting was in Villefranche-sur-Mer, a nearby village a mere ten minutes away by train or, for the sadists, a two-hour hike.
‘If it helps, there’s not much of this left,’ he says.
‘Of the hike?’ I perk up.
‘Of these rocks,’ he says guiltily. ‘Didn’t mean to get your hopes up like that, sorry.’
‘It’s all good, I think the lack of sleep is making me cranky. Thanks for last night, by the way. You really didn’t have to help me like that.’
He shrugs it off. ‘It was nothing, I was happy to help. You gonna talk to him today?’
Now it’s my turn to shrug. ‘I should, shouldn’t I? Get it out of the way.’
‘But . . .’
‘It’s so much easier just avoiding him,’ I say.
‘You can’t avoid him for ever. Especially with what you’ve decided.’
‘I know.’ I shudder just at the thought of telling him what I decided last night. ‘But I can try.’
Then we start on the steps. The two hundred and fifty-four steps.
The two hundred and fifty-four shadeless steps, in the blistering heat.
And almost immediately, any thoughts about Noah or El or Sam are brushed aside, replaced with nothing but torment and agony.
I don’t know how we get to the top – I’ll admit I think I blacked out – but eventually we continue single file down a poor excuse of a pavement next to a considerably busy road.
I hear someone ahead complaining about this being the ‘least scenic part’ but I couldn’t care less.
I’m just happy to finally have some flat ground.
I make the most of it, leaving Sam to talk to one of the guys and newly positioning myself somewhere in the middle of the group.
The overtaking is tricky, but I time it with the ebb and flow of the cars, slotting in and out wherever I can.
The way I see it, the closer I can get to the front, the less embarrassing it looks when I drop back at the next eventual incline.
My plan works perfectly and I finally get a chance to talk to some of El’s other house guests.
I start off small with a couple of girls, Lana and Sofia, exchanging light pleasantries about the weather and our travels, but soon we’re belly-laughing about bad dates and tales from our childhood, and they’re punching their numbers into my phone.
I feel a buzz of excitement I haven’t felt for a while as I’m reminded how kind strangers are the second you’re all travelling.
I’ve missed the feeling – missed the freshness. Been focused for far too long on Noah.
Our discourse gets so animated I practically forget about the hike, and the feeling of sand between my toes makes me jump with surprise.
I break my gaze from the girls to the coast and the crystal-clear water, sparkling under the light of the dazzling sun.
I get it now. This view, this beach, this feeling was worth every second of that wretched two-hour walk.
I drop my bag to the sand, whip my dress off and kick off my sandals, barrelling towards the blue before anyone can stop me.
The water hits my ankles first, icy cold and packing a punch that should shock me enough into not going further, but I push on.
It hits my calves, my knees, my thighs, soon my midriff, unfurling my spine as it passes, washing my stress away.
I throw myself back, braids be damned, and float on my back as rays of light stroke my body and bathe me in their warmth.
This is perfect. Exactly what I needed. My eyelids drift closed as I savour the moment.
‘You know tides exist, right?’ A voice pulls me from my bliss and right back into the salty ocean.
I open my eyes to find Noah looking down at me, bemused. ‘If you’re not careful, you’ll be washed out to sea. Then what will I tell your fans?’
My stomach tugs at itself, the knot I just unravelled springing back without hesitation.
I hurl myself back onto my feet, toes sinking into wet sand as I meet Noah face to face.
He looks more relaxed, smile at bay and eyes packed with the sparkle I’ve come to miss since Milan.
He’s topless, of course. It takes everything in me not to glance down and instead results in some pretty intense eye contact.
‘I’ve missed this,’ he says, as waves crash at our waists.
My heart flutters.
‘The ocean?’
I need him to say the ocean.
‘No, you!’ He stops to laugh. ‘I’ve barely seen you since you got here.’
‘Yeah, sorry. I meant to find you last night, but then me and Sam ended up—’
‘Yeah, you and Sam. Is that back on? You two are joined at the hip and El said you’re sharing a room as well. Do you really think that’s a good idea?’ He fires off each question at record speed.
‘What do you mean?’ I ask.
I watch him shift, his eyes dropping to the water below.
‘Well, I don’t know . . . back in Berlin, you didn’t seem that keen to see him again.’
‘I wasn’t not keen,’ I say.
I don’t know why I’m getting defensive. Sam and I made it clear last night that we’d remain platonic, and that was only further solidified when he stayed up till four in the morning letting me rant about Noah.
But looking across at Noah’s face, the lightness from before replaced with something more sombre and scolding, I cannot help but feel my back go up with the longer he stares at me.
‘That’s hardly a good enough reason to shag someone,’ he scoffs.
I raise an eyebrow. ‘And you care about who I’m shagging because . . . ?’
His eyes widen. ‘I don’t! It’s just . . . rule number five, remember? No more than two dates per person.’
‘Unless you deem it narratively interesting.’ If we’re getting into the rules, we ought to include the whole statement.
‘Sam’s hardly narratively interesting.’ He rolls his eyes, muttering.
I snap at him. ‘He’s a great guy!’ It’s harsher than I anticipated and I see Noah flinch. But his flinch only spurs me on further. ‘And since we’re looking at rules, I don’t recall giving the all-clear for you to start sleeping with El, as per rule number six.’
‘You don’t know that we’ve . . .’ He stops himself mid-sentence. ‘I guess I didn’t think I needed to. Plus, you were in Verona.’
‘You have my number,’ I say. ‘You texted it enough with pictures of you two looking all cosy.’
‘I sent you pictures because you refused to come with me. And what? I was meant to text you, “Hey, I really like El. Are we good to bone now?” ’
His voice picks up in volume and I freeze in my place.
He really likes El.
The words knock the wind from my body.
‘Well, n-no. Not in those words, anyway. I guess what I’m saying is that we don’t need to follow each rule word for word. We’re past that.’
He simmers down with me. ‘Yeah, I guess you’re right. Maybe we go through them and make some adjustments before we head out on our next leg.’
My stomach twists further, breath expelled in a shaky exhale.
I drop my eyes to the water, still bright blue, still glistening.
I think of Sam’s words last night, of how settled I felt when the two of us came to a damning conclusion.
I don’t feel as sure right now, but if I don’t act now I never will.
I look back up at Noah and his face shifts to something far more perturbed.
‘Fine,’ he says. ‘We don’t have to change them. I just thought that was what you wanted.’ He shrugs it off, scanning my face, expecting me to do the same.
‘No, that’s not it. The rules are . . . fine. I just . . .’ I gulp once more, attempting to quell my nerves. ‘I think we should stop travelling together. Do the rest of our time separately.’
He blinks in disbelief, trying to piece the words together.
‘Why would we do that?’ he asks.
I have to look away. ‘Well, it’s been three months and I still haven’t actually solo travelled, and now that you have El, it seems like a good time to try.’ I can feel the words shake as they leave my mouth.
‘I don’t understand.’ He stops me, grappling for words. ‘I thought we had something good going on.’
‘We did!’ I catch the past tense. ‘We do. I just . . . I don’t know, I think it’s for the best. I set out here to travel alone and I need to prove to myself that I can actually do it. Plus, I’ve still got like, forty-two dates to go on . . . I could do without you slowing me down.’
I smile, but he doesn’t smile back. He fakes a small one, but it’s so obviously fake – almost identical to my own weak attempt at levity.
‘What will I do without you?’ he asks.
I can’t let him get to me. I can’t have him make me regret doing this. So I shrug. ‘I’m sure we’ll stay in touch; we have each other’s numbers and socials. Plus you’ve got El.’
‘Yeah, but El’s not you,’ he says, sullen.
The statement sparks anger in me once again. ‘No, El’s not me. El’s the girl you have feelings for. The girl you left me in Milan to go and date.’
He pauses, taken aback. ‘You told me to.’
‘I gave you the option, and you took it. Now you’re dating. Travel with her.’
I don’t intend the words to come across as scathing as they do, but even I’m shocked at the venom that spouts out my mouth. His features fold in, shrinking as I stare him down in the sea. We’re speechless; torso-deep in the bubble we’ve made.
He breaks the silence with a question. ‘Are you sure this is what you want?’
Of course I’m not. We were not meant to end like this. But I fell in love and he met El, and this is all that is left.
‘Yeah, I’m sure,’ I say. ‘I’ve booked a ticket, leave first thing tomorrow morning.’
He recoils, popping back to life. ‘That’s so soon.’ He opens his mouth, closes it, swallows, then tries again. ‘Well, I wish you the best.’ He smiles. ‘Safe travels, can’t wait to read all about the rest of your dates.’
He’s almost robotic in delivery, the cheerfulness painted over a shaky, uneven and transparent surface.
‘Thank you, same goes for you!’ I choose to join his farce. ‘I’m sure I’ll see the rest of your trip all over El’s Insta.’
He laughs at the joke. It’s empty. I give an empty smile back and the two of us hold them, pretending we’re okay. My heart breaks as we do, but I know it’s for the best. I have over half my dates left and I can’t do them hung up on my travel buddy.
We head back to the shore in silence, listening to nothing but the sound of our legs pulling through the water. They tug at the waves, muddle through and come out on the sand as we leave the ocean, and our months together, behind.