Chapter 5
Niki
Bella stares at the sea as she twists her hair around her fingers.
“What do you do, Bella?” I draw shapes in the sand with a stick. I’m like a little kid at the beach. I haven’t experienced this kind of freedom since the infection.
“I’m a rugby coach in the Midlands.” She stutters briefly. “Do you follow women’s rugby?”
I shake my head, and her shoulders relax slightly. “No, but I live near Oxford—or I did.”
Her eyes widen, and I’m transfixed again. “Oxford?”
“Near there. If you don’t mind me saying, you're young for a coach.” I shove my stick in the sand. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”
“I’m older than I look.” Her laugh is forced. “Are you enjoying Greece? Have you been here long?”
“About eight months.”
“That’s cool. I came for a week’s holiday, but I’m heading home tomorrow. Are you here for work?”
I don’t want her to pity me or judge me when I tell her the truth.
Leaving my sister in the lurch to run our family racing team when my dad gave it to me after his heart attack doesn’t paint me in a good light.
But neither does avoiding people while waiting for my scars to heal when all I’ve done is add to my health anxiety.
She takes my hand. “You don’t have to tell me. We can talk about something else.”
My heart races, and my mouth dries. She’s touching me again, and I love and hate it. I blurt the only thing I can think of, “Do you want to play a game of twenty questions?” She raises her brow and I stutter, “And if you’re not willing to answer, you have to do a dare?”
Little wrinkles appear on her forehead as she stares at me. I swallow a couple of times, dragging saliva into my mouth. “Okay, but we have to answer the same questions, so don’t ask anything you’re not willing to answer.”
I take a breath at her skin against mine. My heart beats faster, and I try to ignore the intrusive thoughts telling me human contact could kill me.
Distract yourself, Niki. “I’m asking first.”
She nods. “My one rule is that we don’t have to give explanation to our answers unless we want to.”
I nod. “Favourite animal?”
“Sheep. You?”
“I already want you to explain why you chose sheep, but I can’t because of the rules.” She giggles. “My favourite are dogs.”
“My turn,” she says. “What is your favourite place in the world that you’ve been?”
“Hungary. Budapest, in particular.” My favourite racetrack.
“I haven’t been many places, but I loved Australia. I visited Sydney and the Gold Coast four years ago.”
“The beaches there are beautiful.”
She winces at my reply, and I desperately want to know why.
“Who gave you your bracelet?” I ask, staring at the beaded Belle bracelet.
“I made it,” she says, stumbling over her response. “If you had to pickle any part of your body, which would you choose?”
Her question makes me laugh so hard I choke.
“Do I have to eat what I pickle?” I rasp as she pats me on the back.
“Of course not! You’re so gross. If that’s your first thought, you must be a psychopath,” she replies, her shoulders shaking with laughter.
“And yet you’re the one who dragged me alone to the beach after announcing to those jerks we were going to fuck for hours. You must be the psychopath.” I wink.
She tucks a wave of brown hair behind her ear. I suck in a breath. Her eyes sparkle, and I force myself not to stare at how beautiful she is.
“I’d pickle my ring finger, seeing as I can’t wear my ring anymore because you’ve got it.”
She moves to take it off.
“No, keep it on,” I say, “in case they come back.” And because you look good with it around your neck.
She takes her bracelet off and hands it to me. I rest it on my thigh. “You should have something of mine, seeing as I’m wearing something of yours. Unless there’s anything else you want,” she replies.
Don’t say knickers. Don’t say knickers. I shake my head. She smiles in a cute way that makes me want to learn if she still tastes of the cocktail she was drinking.
“You need to keep the bracelet safe. I run my fingers over it when I’m anxious.”
My shoulders ease. “What makes you anxious?”
“A lot of things.” Her sigh is loud and long. “But right now, with the prospect of returning home tomorrow, I’m anxious about my future. I came out this evening because my friend is worried I’m pushing away my dreams.”
“What are your dreams?”
She bites her lip. “The same as most people’s. To be successful in a career and in life generally.”
“Why are you pushing these dreams away if they’re so important to you?”
She turns in the sand to look at me, and the temptation to lift my hand to her hair and see if it’s as soft as I imagine grips me like a vice.
Her fingers dance across the bracelet, occasionally brushing my thigh. I freeze but don’t recoil. This is progress. “It feels like everything is against me. I don’t know what to do.”
Her finger circles the bracelet, and she inadvertently strokes my skin. I turn over the sanitiser in my pocket. The urge to use it won’t leave me, but I like what she’s doing, and I’ve been around her long enough to get her germs.
“If nothing stood in your way, nothing at all, would you work towards your dreams?” I stammer.
She nods. My chain shines in the moonlight.
I take a deep breath and hold out my hand. She takes it. My heart races, and I don’t think it’s just from anxiety. It’s from embracing my fears and doing something that scares me.
“When I was a teenager, I dreamt about doing the thing I’d always wanted,” I say.
“I spent every day working to make it happen. Sometimes it felt impossible, but I had help. Every morning I stood in front of the mirror and told myself that the people who don’t reach their goals are the ones who forget to dream.
I said I’d never forget to dream. I wouldn’t forget to live. ”
Like I forgot to do this year.
“And did you reach your dream?” she asks with a hint of vulnerability.
“Yeah, and more.”
“But you got hurt?”
My eyes lock with hers, and I swallow so damn loudly I swear the fish hear it. I want to pull my hand back but can’t. I need this. “How did you know?”
“Little things. You have the mannerisms of someone struggling, like your hands are busy, suggesting anxiety. And you keep tapping your cap. I saw something under it when you flipped it backwards, like maybe a scar,” she says.
“It’s stuff I picked up from…coaching, like observing people and their behaviours. It’s one of my skills.”
I pull on the back of my neck and stare at the sand. “I was in a car accident, but it was the time in the hospital afterwards that broke me. I got an infection, and I…I nearly died.”
I expect her to inch away from me or ask more questions, but she squeezes my hand. She slides closer, and her bare leg presses against mine.
“How did we get to this from you loving sheep?” I chuckle.
“It’s a weird night,” she replies. “It feels like I can say anything because this moment isn’t real. Just a random night sitting on a beach with my husband before everything changes.”
“Your husband with a monster dick.”
She laughs loudly, breaking any tension from our conversation.
“You’re right, by the way. It is,” I add.
“Yep, sure. Of course it is. And I’m a princess,” she teases.
“I knew it.”
Her eye roll makes me smile.
I squeeze her hand. “You don’t even know how weird this night is. You might not believe this, but I used to hug everyone. I was known for my hugs, and yet I haven’t hugged anyone in nearly a year.”
“Not even your family?”
“Nope. I haven’t seen them or talked to them or my friends much since I came here.”
“Are you lonely?”
“Yeah,” I whisper. “I thought hiding away was the best thing for me, but coming out tonight has made me question everything. It’s weird to really talk to someone after all this time.”
“Sometimes, talking to a stranger, someone who won’t judge you or make you share all your feelings, can be easier.”
I stare at her colourful bracelet, which still sits on my thigh. The little heart beads sparkle in the moonlight.
“We don’t have to keep talking about the deep stuff if you don’t want to. I could ask you more weird questions.”
I shake my head frantically. “No, I need this, but give me a moment.” I thumb the letters and shapes of the bracelet with my spare hand while gripping hers with my other hand. “If any of this is too much to listen to, tell me to stop.”
“I’m here for you. Say whatever you want.”
I study the butterfly bead with its rainbow colours.
“I was in a fire, hence the scars on my head. I was healing fine, but I got an infection because of my burns. It spread to my blood, and antibiotics wouldn’t work.
” I suck in air, and my hand trembles. “I don’t know how I survived. ” My chest heaves as I pant.
Her thumb strokes my finger, making it tingle. “That’s a lot to go through.”
“I’d led a charmed life up until then. While I was in the hospital, my dad had a heart attack.
Although he survived, it added to my panic.
Fear overwhelms me all the time.” My voice wobbles, and I grip the bracelet, counting the beads.
“The day before I came to Greece, I Googled what was going on. I suspected I had a brain tumour, but it’s health anxiety.
I’m scared of getting ill. I should be having tests to check my heart and to make sure my body is better, but instead, I hide here. ”
I hang my head. My lips are so dry, and a lump sticks in my throat. She gives my hand a reassuring squeeze.
“I’ve kept my place germ-free,” I say, “and today’s the first time I’ve socialised beyond a hello to my cleaners. You’re the first person I’ve touched in a really long time.”
“Is this too much?”
I shake my head. “It makes me realise how much I’ve missed touch and wonder if I can do more.”
Her eyes widen.
“That isn’t a chat-up line.”
“No one would come up with something this intricate to fuck me. Most men don’t even ask my name.”
“Those guys at the bar were fools. You’re way too good for them.”
She waves away my comment with a smile. “Do you miss home?”
“Every day, and it’s getting worse, but I’m terrified I’ll be ill again.
I’ve locked myself away. My family doesn’t know where I am because they’d make me return home.
I haven’t spoken to anyone about anything beyond surface stuff since I left in February.
My sister’s stressed with the family business, but I left her to deal with it, and some days I’m so fucking angry with the world and myself.
I’m lucky I survived, yet I’m constantly scared and empty. What if I can’t go home?”
I gasp for air. I’ve held all my emotions in for months.
“I’m sorry you’ve dealt with all of that. Your family probably misses you and worries about you.”
“They do. And I miss them, too. But what if I’m never okay?”
“Then you see someone and get them to help you. You’re not alone. You’re never alone, as no matter what happens, someone always wants to care about you, but finding those people and letting them care is difficult.”
She stares at the sea and adds, “But be aware. You’ll never be who you were before. You’ll be a new version of yourself.”
I glance at her, and she glows with an inner beauty. My stomach clenches in delight. I haven’t felt that in a long time. “You’re pretty clever for someone into rugby.”
She throws her head back and laughs. “And you’re okay for a thirty-year-old man wearing sliders.”
We share a look of something. Maybe hope—and something more.
“Bella, I can’t take away your anxiety about the future and chasing your dreams, but you’ve helped me with mine, so if I can help you in any way, please tell me.”
“I guess, what I’m really scared of”—she pauses, and I fixate on how her jaw tightens—“is letting everyone down.”
“But what if you don’t? What if you achieve your dreams and it inspires others?”
She shivers, and I offer her my jacket. She wraps it tightly around her as we watch the water.
“If you could be a mermaid or a dragon, which would you choose?” I ask, returning to our silly questions.
“Mermaids are kind of hot,” she ponders, and I get filthy thoughts of her in a fancy dress costume, hair covering her breasts. I need to get out more. “But I’ve always wanted to fly.”
“Like a bird?”
“Like a base jumper.” Her eyes twinkle in the moonlight. “What’s the scariest thing you’ve ever done?”
I can’t answer that without revealing who I am, and I still don’t want to share it. I like this version of me. This is the closest I’ve felt to free in a long time. “No comment.”
She fixes me with her stare. “It must be really bad and embarrassing, like…naked sky diving or sex in a plane toilet,” she teases. “If you’re not going to answer, then you must do a dare.” She glances at the cliff looming above us. “I dare you to do something scary.”
“Like sex in a plane toilet?”
She giggles. She has the most beautiful and cheeky smile. “I don’t see any planes here. What scary thing can I make you do?”
“Just holding hands without using my sanitiser is scary.” It’s nice to be able to joke again. “I’ll only do something scary if you do it as well and if it involves getting off this sand. My butt’s cold.”
“I have an idea, but…” She pauses as she looks up at the cliff again. “Fine. I’m fed up with being scared of things that shouldn’t scare me and being anxious about everything. It’s time to do something that gives me fear for the right reasons.”
She lets go of my hand and jumps up. “But we have to take our clothes off—”
My eyes widen nearly as much as hers
“…Nearly all our clothes off and jump off that cliff into the sea.”
She points to the cliff above us. It juts out menacingly, like it’s reminding me to check my will.
“Liam,” she says, making me laugh. “By doing this, you’re telling the world you’re ready for something new. This night has been like no other, and what if it was the last night of our lives? Would you want to remember it? I’ll let you wear the bracelet.”
I don’t know if it’s her wink, cheeky grin, or how I’ve spent the last eight months. If this were my last night, I’d want to do something I was proud of and not be remembered as I am now.
“Okay, and if I survive, I’ll go home.”
“And if I survive, I’ll follow my dreams.”
“You make it sound so easy.” At her full-lipped smile, I nod. “Let’s do it.” I barely finish my sentence before she undoes her dress.
If this is how I die, it will be worth it.