Is it stupid to feel isolated when you're spending all day every day with somebody? Well, I suppose that's not weird since it happens all the time, you can be at work with people you don't like all day so that feels pretty lonely. I guess what I find weird about this feeling is that I really like the person I'm with. We get on fabulously, we have great chemistry and good sex, and I enjoy his company. Add it all up and it just doesn't seem to fit with me feeling lonesome.

The last few days have passed by in a great big blur of water sports, hiking, sex and food. Much of that was all happening before, but it is a little different when you're teasing each other with kisses and cuddles as well as words and when the dinners become more intimate. Beyond sex, there's a certain romantic vibe going on here. Neither of us is under any illusions about what this is and how long it'll last, but I guess it feels a little deeper than a fling; maybe the best word for it is affair? No, that sounds like he's got a wife at home. I have no idea what the term is, I just know I actually lit the candles on the table for the first time in forever. We went out to the tapas bar and he was holding my hand while we were chatting. He cut his foot on a half buried rock and I kissed it better after I put the plaster on (he insisted it was a band aid, but I'm British so it's a plaster). It's just little things, small things which say that maybe this is just a good time but we do at least care about each other.

It's nice, and I'm basking in it. That may seem contradictory with the whole lonely complaint, but it's been a long time since a guy fussed over me. It's nice to have somebody play with my hair and make an effort to compliment me on something. I haven't really been dating much at all for a while, and it's nice to have a hug and to do all that silly horsing around when we're swimming and to flirt and be close with somebody. I like the way he rubs my arm when he's put it around me while we're walking, and I like the way he lets me play with his fingers while we're sitting on the beach talking and watching for a decent swell. It's stupid, I haven't known this guy very long at all but we have this really easy affection together and it's just… nice. I need a wider vocabulary, but it's nice.

If only my friends would be a little more supportive, this would be perfect. They all went out to Mario's at Del Sol and didn't invite me. That's the ultimate snub in our group. Nina at least had the grace to look mortified about it, but the effect was kind of ruined when Justin came back down from changing his clothes and we went straight back out. The sight of him apparently removed her shame, so I yanked him straight out of there. Her glare could have melted glass. If I genuinely was ignoring them for him then I'd see their point, but I'm not. The time I've spent with Justin has all been while they were out at work - I'm a teacher on summer break and I have a lot of free time to fill - and I wasn't standing them up for any of our normal dates. It's not like I was forcing Justin on them either, he was more than happy to give it a miss and let me have some time with my friends. He's been nothing but charm itself to them and they have no reason to be doing this.

They're being such arseholes about everything, and it stings like hell. It's so unfair. We've all put up with each other falling into stupid, ill advised romances with people who are leaving in a week. We've all sat and sympathised through the inevitable histrionics even when we want to say 'shut up you idiot what did you think would happen,' we've all been there and we've all been the idiot so we hold our peace. We've all sat inwardly fuming when somebody insists on forcing the new love of their life onto the group and suffered silently through the gushing. So why am I the exception when I'm not even doing those things? Nobody's going to be bursting into tears when the inevitable separation comes and I've been pretty casual about Justin around them, purposely so because I don't want to be annoying. What gives?

This had better not be that stupid possessive thing Justin said Christophe's mum thinks it is. I will hurt them.

"Addy?" Justin says sleepily as he turns over to face me.

"Yeah?"

"What time is it?"

I grab my watch from my bedside table. "About six."

"You mean I slept through the afternoon like an old man?

" "No. Because that would mean I slept through the afternoon like an old lady and I'm not one."

We've been extremely active this whole time, so we are exhausted a whole lot. It's the kind of exhaustion you welcome, however, because it's the good kind that comes after you had too much fun all day. I have unleashed my inner harlot a little; we have been going at it often. We've been going at it at all hours of the day and night, too. Our afternoon nap today came after a morning of swimming and a post lunch roll in the sheets. Yesterday we'd barely had breakfast and we wound up attacking each other on the roof; I was showing Justin my secret sunbathing spot.

Our roof was designed almost to be a second patio, and the little walls on it are just high enough that if you sit up on it you still can't be seen - they'd see you if you were on a chair though. He was making fun of me and claiming it was my 'nekkid tanning' roof. Somehow, don't ask me how, he got me to admit to the odd bit of topless sunbathing - tan lines can get very bad around here, just look at the tourists - and then things just degenerated from there. It's a good thing it was early in the day and the sun wasn't at its strongest or his pasty white backside might have got burned.

"Hmm." Justin lets out a low chuckle and pulls me over to him. I willingly go, curling up against his side and laying my head on his chest while he idly trails his fingers down my arm. I'd forgotten how good this part of dating someone feels, just curling up together and chilling out. "I'm starting to feel old. Next thing you know I'll be in bed by ten every night, you're wearing me out woman."

I could say the same of him. He hasn't slept in his apartment since our first time; he just goes back there to get him things or change clothes or whatever. I'm even washing them for him, he might as well have moved in here for the duration of his stay. If I didn't know he was a millionaire I'd be suggesting he did to save the hotel fees; since he's been putting off going back he has to keep extending his stay and Carlotta charges through the nose when people do that. However, he is a millionaire and it's not going to break the bank so I consider it no bad thing that he has a bolt hole to run back to if he wants his own space.

"There's no gun to your head," I say lazily. "You can bugger off at will."

"Why would I do that? Your mattress is better than the one in the apartment."

"Charming. He's here for my furniture."

"Well you would be the added bonus, of course."

"Hmm," I say in mock consternation. Justin merely kisses the top of my head at my hairline and says nothing.

As I run my fingers slowly over his chest (and it's a very nicely defined chest) I once again can't help wondering what he's like at home. This is all a little too dream-like and perfect; as much as I like it, I know it's not reality. We've been running around in this lust filled haze having the time of our lives, but I'm aware this isn't real. For all I know, if I'd met him when he was at home I might not have even liked him, if I'd even taken a second glance. He might have been the guy I just passed by in a crowd. It's hard to think of, since I think he's gorgeous… but then again, when he first got here I didn't think that much of him. He's moved up from 'decent looking' on first impression to 'gorgeous' after I've got to know him.

It feels warm and cosy to just stretch out in his arms and not have to say anything. I love the feeling, but the fact that I don't know him as well as I feel like I do does nag at the back of my brain. It's just impossible to bring up. For one thing, I know he's having difficulties with who he is at home and I don't want to spoil his good mood (which I'm pleased to say has not abated in a good few days), and for another you can't rely on people's own views of themselves. Obviously they could lie, but even when they don't it makes no difference; we all have skewed impressions of ourselves and our lives.

"Do you feel like staying in or going out for dinner?" Justin asks. His eyes are still half closed in lazy indolence, so just a small flash of blue is visible behind his drooping lids. At this point he's allowed to assume he's welcome to join me at meals.

"There's a restaurant about halfway between here and Del Sol that's good, if you like the more traditional Spanish grub."

"Grub?" Justin sounds horrified. "Like bugs and worms?"

"No," I laugh with a teasing slap on his arm. "Grub is just British for food."

"You British people need to learn to speak English."

"Oh really? So what precisely do you think we speak in England then?" I ask with heavy emphasis on the 'England.'

I get no answer, just a poke to the hip. "Is this restaurant teeming with tourists if it's close to that Playa place?"

"No," I answer. "It's busy, but for most of the tourists it's too far to come out just for food since there's nothing else to do in that village."

"Works for me then."

It does amuse me that he's a tourist who is so anti-tourists. I think it's cool though that he's experiencing a whole different way of life and not just here for the water parks and cheaper booze. Well, at least he seems to be listening when we walk through the village and I tell him about the way of life here. He could just be feigning polite interest.

"Cool. Give us a couple of hours to kill first."

"Yeah, I'm never going to get used to this whole Spanish eating so late thing," Justin comments. "Back home the diet brigade look at you like you've just swallowed arsenic if you eat carbs after eight or whatever."

"That'd be why they call it La La Land, huh?" I laugh at him. I have to admit, it's some of his weirder stories that put me off LA and made me think of NYC for this exchange thing. I'm sure NYC has its share of crazies, it's just better in blissful ignorance.

"Yep. They're la la over diets, la la over clothes, la la over celebrities and la la over everything."

"Ooh, you ever run into anybody famous then?"

"No."

It may be my imagination, but he said that a touch too quickly. I'm guessing he ran into some hot actress and did something embarrassing. I'll get him drunk and prise it out of him later.

It's getting to that point where lying in the crook of his shoulder is starting to hurt my neck. Having an arm going round the back there is mildly more comfortable to begin with than, oh, say, a log, but after a while it all starts to feel the same. I just don't like to disturb the otherwise cosy moment. Also, I've found that almost anyway you snuggle up to somebody in a bed one of you is going to wind up getting something squashed or pins and needles or whatever. For all I know Justin's shoulder now hurts as much as my neck but he's not mentioning it either. Sofa cuddling is much better, things just fit together better sitting up.

"So what we doing until dinner time then?" I change the subject, tapping at his temple with my index finger.

"Umm…" Justin yawns lazily. I don't know why he's yawning; he's spent all afternoon sleeping. "We could go swim some more or for a walk or something. Or watch a DVD or something? I don't know, you pick."

"I asked you precisely so that you would pick."

"Well obviously that backfired."

"Are all Yanks as difficult as you?"

"For the last time…" He picks up a spare pillow and gently smacks me over the head with it. "I'm from Memphis, I'm a Southerner."

"Well I'm a middle class girl from the Home Counties and that didn't stop you calling me cockney," I say as I grab him before he can land the second hit and snatch the pillow away, giving him a retaliatory smack in return. "I mean, do I sound even remotely cockney to you? You might as well have called me a Scouser."

"A what now?"

"Liverpudlian."

"Huh?"

"Liverpool! Land of The Beatles? I thought you said you liked music, how can you not know Liverpool?"

"I know Liverpool," he says, now kind of clambering over me trying to snatch the pillow back," I just don't know that weird Scooser word."

"Scouser."

"Whatever."

Justin took a little longer than he should have to realise he could have just grabbed another one of the pillows instead of having to take the one that was in my hand, but he's now attacking with full force. I'm screaming and laughing and trying to defend myself, but apparently the best form of defence really is attack because he's definitely winning here. I get in a few sneaky side swipes, but mostly I'm just holding my own pillow over my head trying to absorb the fast and furious blows of my opponent. I'm starting to think he's done this before… or, to be fair, it might just be that this guy actually knows what a gym is for and has been to one. I can't say the same.

"Okay, okay, surrender, I wave my little white flag," I say through giggles.

"Surrender?" He asks, still poised to strike.

"Much as it kills my ego, surrender."

"Cool."

He takes my pillow from me and tosses it down with his before launching himself back down onto the mattress with a little bounce that makes the whole thing shake like it was a water bed or something. Yet again, I find myself giggling. You can't say he doesn't make me smile. Justin rolls over with a grunt and throws his arm around me, pressing a few kisses on my neck and jawbone. We have so much fun together, meeting him was probably the best possible way I could have spent this summer.

I'm still kind of giggling and he's tickling me which is making it worse, so the only thing I can do is tickle right back. I catch a glimpse of the angel tattoo on his back and it amuses me because while he was napping on the beach I may have coloured in the face with extra sun cream. It's still pretty white against his dark tan, like this angel has a luminous face, and it just amuses me because he can't see it and has no idea. My mental age is twelve.

His lips make their way to mine and before long we're having a nice relaxing make out session. There's an art to the make out session, some guys only ever see it as a warm up to something else, but Justin seems to share my opinion that sometimes it's best when it's for its own sake. He has nice lips; they're a little thin, perhaps, and his stubble scratches a bit, but he's got just the right mix of firm and soft going on and if a girl wasn't careful she could lose a lot of time doing this. For the reason of shitty friends as mentioned above, I have a lot of spare time to lose doing this.

Gradually and without me really noticing the process his body winds up settled on top of mine, our arms and legs wound up comfortably together. Both parties seem to develop wandering hands and it's a pretty pleasant feeling, running my fingers over him. His skin has that warm glow people get when they're been in the sun (or tucked up in bed for a few hours) and it's just slightly weathered to the touch. It's not rough, but it's not exactly baby soft either; it has the wear and tear of skin not used to so much sun and salt water. Oddly I like that - it feels real, somehow, real and earthy.

It's a long and languid process as his hands and lips eventually move south. As his hands stroke and knead my breasts and my kisses make little circles around my belly button I hear myself emitting the occasional little contented 'mmm.' It's almost lazy as his body slides back upwards and he goes to kiss me again, but instead I find my mouth going to his shoulder, kissing along his collarbone. My hands are rubbing large, easy circles over his back and sides while my lips take their time brushing over his neck, Justin's doing the same in kind. He chuckles lightly when I nip at his ear, but other than that we're both concentrating on the kissing. There's little sound other than the rustling of sheets.

Even when he finally slips inside of me and all those new sensations start hitting, we're still both concentrating more on the kissing than anything. As such we're kind of off rhythm and I almost want to laugh or crack jokes about it, but somehow that seems wrong in this wonderfully quiet, indolent moment. If ever I had ideas about how sex should go this is probably the opposite of them, but it's doing it for me all the same. There's a low buzz in my skin the entire time, almost a light, pleasant humming. My hand goes to his face, stroking his cheek, and in response his gets buried in my hair while I feel his lips curve up against mine in a smile. Mine can't help but do the same.

Before long I can feel Justin starting to tense in my arms a little, involuntarily telling me he's close to getting there. In response I tighten my hold on him and kiss him a little harder, encouraging him. I'm not there but I don't need to be, the tingling I've been talking about making this all worth while enough even without the big finish (not that I ever tell guys this, they never seem to understand and they take it as an affront to their prowess). A few shudders and an almost inaudible grunt later, Justin's extracted himself from me and curled himself around my body, arm hugged snugly across my chest. We both smile at each other and I plant a kiss on his forehead. Nice to know I can put a twinkle in a man's eye - and he does have very nice blue eyes. They're pretty.

We're probably going to have to get up after this - as we should, since we've been in here all afternoon - but for five more minutes I'd just like to lie here, all tangled up with somebody. As much as I'm annoyed with my friends and the way they've been about this, having Justin around takes the edge off whatever else is happening. It's no magic fix, but for a few minutes I get to lie here, stave off all the other crap that's been bothering me and concentrate on nothing but the thud of my own heartbeat and the smell of him.

I'd say it was nice, if I hadn't already used that word enough for the next decade.