I think the only disadvantage of living on the ocean front is that the constant smell of salt makes you crave sugar. It's a good thing there's more fruit than chocolate available around here to satisfy my sweet cravings or I would be fat as hell. That would be awkward, seeing as my life when not at school is lived in bikinis.

That's why I'm chewing on some mango slices as I clean up the living room and kitchen for the little get together we're hosting tonight. Lucky for me, Dad cunningly fixed up the air con to some solar panels on the roof when he built the villa so the more the sun shines, the more juice our air con has to cool us down. Living here for so long, we've been forced to respect the heat; these days when I go back to England I can never understand why people complain about the summer weather being too hot. What English people call 'hot' is absolutely nothing compared to Mediterranean summers. Every year it happens without fail, the hospital on the island gets an influx of people with heat stroke and you see a ton of tourists skulking miserably around in t-shirts with only their bright red necks and arms to testify how badly they managed to burn themselves the day before. The other colour I see is orange - girls who think that piling on the fake tan looks anything like a real tan. No it doesn't, ladies, it just makes you look even worse by comparison when you stand next to a natural one. I'll give them plus points for trying to avoid skin cancer though.

Once again, I am having a very boring day. The fact that I am voluntarily cleaning the communal areas when it's Mike's week to do so demonstrates this perfectly. At first we thought we were too cool and mature for stuff like rotas, but as it turns out when left to our own devices we wind up reverting to the ages of fifteen and thirteen respectively. Those were the days when we were both convinced that the other always ditched their chores and we each had to pick up the slack. The rota saved us from reverting to our fifteen and thirteen year old dispute resolution technique.

When I say 'dispute resolution technique,' I mean wrestling match. Hair pulling was optional.

The inside of our living room is all white. The only colour accents are our sofas and the pictures and ornaments that we have up, the floor is all white tiling (which thankfully resists sangria stains much better than white carpet, but if you drop anything even remotely breakable it's an immediate adios). Again, this is an important feature - my Dad informs me that because white reflects all light and heat it keeps things cooler for us. If you ask me his interior designer was just trying to be trendy, since they sometimes use us as a demonstration home, but since my Daddy very kindly built me a house I keep that little opinion to myself. I try not to be an ungrateful little brat; I'll take what I'm given.

"Knock knock?"

I hear the noise from the balcony doors behind me and give a little jump, nearly screaming. My friends all know better than to sneak up on me from the back door, so it has to be a passer-by. There's a set of stairs from the sand to the balcony and they're so well built you'd have to be wearing stilettos or clogs to make any noise on the damn things.

I turn around, and it's Captain America from the other day. I'd almost forgotten that I told him where I live; I haven't seen him for a few days.

"Jesus, you startled me. Normally our visitors come through the front door."

"Oh, sorry," he blushes awkwardly. His demeanour seems overly nervous, so I'm guessing the fact it's been a few days since that casual invitation was made hasn't escaped him either. You have to have some sympathy; people say a lot of shit during the niceties that they don't really intend to follow through on.

"Nah, it's okay," I say as I try to smile reassuringly at him. "What can I do for you, uhh, Justin?" Thankfully it only took me half a second to recall his name or that might have been awkward.

"I was just walking this way and I saw the house with the blue shutters and remembered you," he responds. He's almost shy about it, his wording seems very tempered and … not quite rehearsed, but like he's being very careful about it. "I thought I'd stop in and say hi, if you were here. Which you obviously are seeing as I scared the shit out of you."

There's something about the way he phrases things that I just like. He's unintentionally funny.

Also, now I take a better look, pretty nice looking. His nose dominates his face, it's a little big, but I'm guessing when he smiles it's a mega watt smile. The eyes are big and blue and the man clearly works out. I've seen a lot of skinny bastards but that kind of abdominal definition takes gym work. I know this because my brother (also a skinny bastard) constantly complains about it; he's not doing so well with building the old six pack. That said, I cannot condone his swim shorts - they're a particularly obnoxious shade of electric blue with lighter blue detailing and I expected better taste from him. His hair looks like it's only just growing out after some head shaving.

"Apart from your method of entry your timing was pretty good actually, I'm so bored I'm cleaning." I roll my eyes and he chuckles at me. "Would you like a drink?"

"Water would be nice, thank you."

I pad over to the fridge and my flip flops make that irritating slap against the tiles. Usually I'm a barefoot gal around the house but when I'm pouring cleaning products on the floor it's best to have something on my feet. Pulling it open I grab a bottle and toss it over to him. Drinking water is always well stocked in our fridge because I live on one of those islands where drinking the tap water is a bad, bad plan. That along with sun stroke is probably the most common affliction amongst tourists admitted to the island hospital.

"So how's your trip so far?" I ask in what I hope is a friendly and conversational manner as I grab a bottle for myself and nab the last of my mango slices.

"Quiet," he responds with a wry smile. "I haven't done much of anything. It's been kind of nice, but I'm starting to get twitchy. I don't think I've done so little in… well, forever."

"How long are you staying?"

He reaches back to scratch his neck, and am I wrong for sneaking a peek at the biceps working when he does it? Summer romances are something I've learned to steer well clear of, particularly when it's tourists (most of them usually have a girlfriend back home and a lot of them have managed to get through a couple of girls on the island before they even get to you, despite their short tenure here), but I can't say that I don't like to look. Cute guys running around without shirts need to be looked at, it's just some harmless girly fun. None of us take it too seriously, if we date it's people who actually live here; my last boyfriend was another ex pat who runs an Irish themed bar with his parents. I still go there a lot actually, it was a pretty amicable break up.

"Initially I said two weeks, but pretty much as long as I feel like it," he shrugs.

That would be a good thing seeing as by my calculations he's already been here over a week and has managed to do pretty much nothing. It seems a waste of a holiday if all you do is stay in your room. I can't help but wonder about that - it's none of my business, but this is not your typical twenty something male on an island vacation. He's been playing hermit for the past week, I know octogenarians who've been out more than he has.

"Wow. That's pretty lenient of your bosses," I comment blithely. Immediately he gets shifty and I know I've struck a nerve.

"Yeah. Well… you know, I had some time accumulated and…"

"It's okay. You only just met me, you don't have to explain."

"Heh. It's a little complicated but I got all the time I want." The nervous smile comes back out and I wonder what the mega watt one looks like. Dear old Justin seems wound pretty tight - maybe I should invite him to our little gathering tonight and get him really drunk. "This is a nice place."

"Thanks."

"I bet it's great having the water right there."

"Oh yeah," I nod. "It's great if you get up early enough and you can go for a sun rise dip when it's all quiet and nobody else is up yet. It's even better if the surf's right."

"Yeah, I took your advice and borrowed Dante's board but the waves weren't really happening when I tried it."

Oh, so he has left his room since we last spoke. "I told you he has way too many for one person, right?"

Justin rolls his eyes, but not in a rude way. "You weren't kidding. He was telling me the stories behind all of them too - did he really ride one all the way down the hotel strip in that Playa del Sol place?"

Ahh, the infamous tall tale has been spun to Justin too. Dante seems to think he managed to ride a wave for two miles without losing it even once. We think he's full of shit. "We saw him leave the first hotel and Mike and Antonio saw him hit the last one. The entire middle length of the strip is unaccounted for and to be honest, I think there's more chance of me agreeing to a strip show in the middle of said strip than him having made it all the way down there."

The smile got bigger and the laugh got louder. Yep, I definitely see wattage potential there. He has very white teeth, too. "That I'd pay to see."

"There are strip joints down there if that's your kind of thing but I'm afraid you won't be seeing me in 'em," I snort derisively. I know that strip joints are never the classiest places but at least some of them look clean - the ones on this island look like you'd catch an STD just walking in there. Call me judgmental, but I see what I see.

"I'll take a pass," he chuckles, though whether it's at me or the prospect of him going down there I'm not sure. That would after all involve him moving more than ten minutes away from the safety of his apartment. "So, umm, if your cleaning isn't too crucial you feel like maybe doing something?"

"My cleaning is entirely non-crucial and I'd love an excuse to get out of here. I could show you the sights, there's some hiking trails," I pause to look out of the sliding glass doors, "or the surf's not bad. You're about Mike's height; his board would probably work for you."

His eyes light up - surfing it is, then.

***

I have decided that meeting Addy was a stroke of luck.

With all the thoughts flying around my head, being somewhere so quiet and peaceful was a miscalculation on my part; it gave them the opportunity to get much louder when I had very little else to distract myself. After a week of soul searching and self pitying, I have to say that I don't have any more answers than I did when I got here - just a little more of a tan. What I think I did get right, however, was that bringing Trace or anyone from back home would have complicated things. They know too much of what's going on with me, are too liable to get offended or hurt if I express any feeling of dissatisfaction with my life, and would probably make me want to talk about it.

Hanging with Addy has been awesome today. I mean, it's not like she's Wonder Woman or anything, she's just a normal, nice kind of girl, but because she doesn't know what's going on with me she doesn't ask a darn thing about it. We were talking about lots of normal, inconsequential crap. I hung out with her and she kept me away from the crappy thoughts without inspiring any more of them, since she's a stranger and doesn't really mean enough to me to piss me off or worry me. That sounds horrible, I know, but it's a good thing. It's been a long time since I've been able to hang out with someone on such a basic, stress-free level. There's no work pressure, no life pressure, no romantic pressure, we've just been surfing and making small talk. I didn't have to think about my life or my problems for those three hours and that fucking ROCKS.

Also, she may be living and looking Adoran but her sense of humour's still British. She's a cool gal. The best part is that since she's a teacher she's going to be on vacation for as long as I'm here, however long I decide that's going to be. So long as I don't manage to put her off me or display myself as some kind of freak, I could conceivably hang out with her a ton. She's an accomplished little surfer, too, managed to give me a few tips. Dare I say it, I actually had fun today.

Which is why I'm now back at her house (at the front door this time), for this get together with her friends that she invited me to. This is a big risk - the more people I meet, the likelier it is that I'll bump into somebody who knows I'm not a banker - but I'm craving a little more distraction. Initially I said 'maybe' to the invitation with no intention of coming here, but then I walked back into my apartment and it was like all my problems hit me again like a ton of bricks. Ten minutes later she had a phone call and an acceptance. I think I wallowed in there too long and I'm going to have to spend a little more time out and about before I get my crap back under control.

It's not Addy who opens the door, but a skinny blonde guy who has her nose. "I don't know you so I'm guessing you're Justin," is his greeting.

"Yeah, hi. You Mike?" I ask as I shake his hand.

"Yeah, good to meet you mate. Come on in, you're our first arrival."

"Really?" I'm surprised as I look at my watch. "I'm late."

"Only by about twenty minutes," he shrugs. "The average around here is thirty to forty; Addy usually tells everybody to arrive half an hour earlier than they really have to, it's the only way we get anything done on time around here. Come on in."

As I walk in Addy is padding barefoot around the coffee table, putting out various bowls of chips, vegetables and dips. I smell something good in the oven. "Hey Justin," she smiles nicely at me. She's not wearing a lot of make up, but the little white sun dress still makes her look all dolled up; it's a big change from the salt water styled hair and the wet suit from earlier.

"Hey." We do the polite kiss on the cheek thing and before I know it Mike's pressed a beer into my hand. Clearly they host a lot of soirees; it was like he was barely even thinking about it. "So how many people are coming?" I ask.

"About ten, including you," Mike answers. "We only have so much room in here so when we have bigger parties we take it out to the sand."

"Sounds awesome," I say. "Me and my buddies did that on Honolulu one time, had a bonfire, it was amazing. We didn't stop until like four in the morning."

Oh, crap. Said buddies were the four other members of my pretty famous former music group and our pretty extensive tour crew. It all happened in the middle of one of our pretty big tours. If I don't want my little secret getting out I'm really going to have to do some more internal censorship before speaking.

"Four?" Addy snorts. "You light weights. We've been known to fall asleep on the sand out there at like six and wake back up at ten or eleven. Which really is a bad plan because it leaves the house wide open and unlocked, so don't tell my Dad that."

"Oh, party animal are you?" I smile wickedly. "And there was me thinking you were an upstanding educator of young minds."

Mike cracks up laughing, and Addy throws a dish towel at my head before the doorbell goes again. Suddenly I'm kind of nervous about this; I don't want to stick out like a sore thumb or have this turn into one of those awkward parties where because you only know one person you can't really get talking with anybody. The major attraction to staying on this island at the moment is that I don't stick out like a sore thumb - for the first time since I landed that Mickey Mouse Club spot, I blend into the background because nobody knows me as anything but what I'm presenting myself as. Nobody here has any pre-formed judgments of me because they have nothing to judge on, unlike most of the population that have a million gossip rags and TV shows to look at. That feeling's nice. My new found anonymity can't last, I will have to go home sometime, but I'm not ready to give it up just yet.

Oh, okay, it's Dante and Nina at the door. I vaguely know them from the apartments; I could probably make small talk with them. See, I won't have to cling to Addy like an annoying clingy thing. I can do this. I can be normal.