Hello again, guys! You didn't think I'd abandoned you all on here, did you? ;)
Anyhow: I'm working on a new book, Sun Kissed, which I'm going to be posting on here now. I'm hoping to write exactly the light, fluffy summer romance that I love so much!
Also, my books The Kissing Booth and now also Rolling Dice are available in paperback and ebook, so please go purchase! If you can't find a paperback in your local bookstore, then you can try Amazon :)
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Tuesday 25th June
Day One
2:45pm (Spanish time)
As if things weren’t bad enough already, I’ve just discovered a huge zit right in the middle of my forehead. Ugh! And the air just tastes stale; one more reason to hate flying. Usually, it doesn’t bother me, but the turbulence on this flight has been horrendous. I had to run to the bathroom when the air hostess wasn’t looking –
Speaking of, she’s pounding on the door right now.
“Excuse me, miss? You must return to your seat right away – the captain’s switched on the seatbelt signs…”
I suppose I’d better get back to my seat then.
I flush the toilet and raise an eyebrow at the air hostess, daring her to reprimand me. She doesn’t. I feel kind of bad for being difficult – she’s just doing her job, after all – but I’m too grumpy to feel too guilty.
“It’ll be fun,” Mom said.
“You’ll have a fantastic time over there,” Dad said.
Yeah, right.
Are they crazy? This is supposed to be the best summer of my life! I was going to spend a month in the Hamptons with my cousin, Carly, and I’d planned to go on a road trip with Hannah and Payton, and…
Well, it doesn’t matter what I had planned for this summer now. None of it matters, because it’s not happening.
No, instead they’re shipping me off to stay with Aunty Jillian for the whole summer.
Jillian moved to Spain about two and a half years ago, shortly after her divorce. We’d always been close when I was growing up, so I was devastated when she moved. But she said she needed to get away from the city, from everything that reminded her of her “lying, cheating scumbag of an ex-husband”.
After the whole incident with Tripp, my lifelong crush, at the end-of-school party last week though, I can kind of see what she meant.
Maybe getting away for the summer won’t be a total loss after all.
Mom thought it would be a good idea for me to get away; naturally, I’d disagreed at first. I’d fought against it for the past few days, since she’d announced I’d be going to Spain for the summer. Part of me thought that she couldn’t really be serious – and kept thinking that up until I left them behind at the check-in desk.
At that point, I had to resign myself to the fact that yes, this was actually happening.
They were sending me away for the summer.
Sure, maybe a seven week vacation to the Balearics isn’t anything to complain about; and maybe I sound like a spoiled brat complaining like this.
But it isn’t fair.
“Excuse me, miss? Will you please put your seatbelt on?”
I look up at the air hostess and sigh. “Sure. Sorry.”
I buckle up and lean back in my seat. My cheek rests on my shoulder as I turn my head to look out of the window. We’re somewhere near France, now, according to the little TV screen in front of me. You can’t see anything out of the window, though – just clouds.
Actually, there’s something oddly beautiful about outside the window: just an endless expanse of sky, such a perfect, crystal blue; and the clouds whiter than white, drifting and swirling around like they’re dancing.
The plane jerks with some more turbulence, and my hand flies out to grip the arm of the seat tight.
And all of a sudden, I can’t wait to land.
4:14pm (local time)
Baggage claim took forever. It’s like a gazillion degrees here, too, and Jillian’s car is like an oven.
“The air-con is broken,” she told me as soon as we crammed my suitcases into the trunk of her creaky, yellow Ford. “I keep meaning to get it booked into a garage, but I don’t take the car out much anyway, so I keep forgetting.”
“It’s okay, I’ll live,” I replied.
Twenty minutes into the drive, though, I’m not so sure I will. I’m sweating all over, it’s so gross. And my hair is hanging limp from the plane and the heat over here, so I look like a mess. Oh, not to mention the zit.
“How much longer?” I ask.
“Oh, about thirty minutes?” Jillian smiles at me, like this isn’t long at all.
We came to visit just after she moved over here – Mom, Dad, me, and my brothers. Jillian was still settling in; she’s a freelance writer for some magazines, so she was getting back into her stride with work. Most of her boxes were still unpacked at that point – but her computer was set up, and her internet was working – and the plumbing all worked, so that was enough for her.
She looks so much different now – happier. A deep-set tan, and her hair is lighter – more golden than yellow, now. Her eyes sparkle against the tan, and they’re surrounded by creases, like she’s spent a lot of time smiling over the last couple of years. She’s skinnier, and leaner.
“You’re looking healthy,” she tells me.
“Uh, well, I signed up for Pilates classes back in January. Twice a week. And yoga. I do a lot of yoga.”
“Ah, Pilates. I have a couple of those home DVDs. They’re so great.”
“I know, right.”
I can see Jillian looking at me out of the corner of her eye, and she’s pursing her lips. Uh-oh. I know that look. My mom always gives me that kind of look when she has ‘life advice’ or wants a ‘serious talk’. I hope Jillian’s not thinking about –
“You’ll love it here, sweetie, I’m telling you.”
I grunt in response, and let out a long sigh. The seats in her car have leather upholstery. My skin is sticking to the leather, and I can feel sweat on the back of my neck making my hair stick to me. Gross.
The scenery here is weird. I can’t decide if it’s beautiful or not. Some of it seems barren – like it’s too hot and sunny for anything to grow on fields made of dust. But then there are lush, green trees stretching for the sun, and sometimes we round a corner and the sea is visible: glittering in the sunlight, and deep blue.
Jillian lives in this little tiny town near the sea on Mallorca. It’s a tiny place, really – barely a hundred inhabitants. I can’t really remember it too well; last time we came, we spent most of our time helping Jillian paint her villa and unpack, and I spent hours upon hours lying on the beach soaking up the sun while everyone else explored the town.
I wonder if there will be any cute guys there.
I could really use a cute guy, a summer fling, to take my mind off Tripp.
Tripp…
So much for promising myself I’d forget all about him and never think about him again.
Tripp Whitmore had been the guy – you know, the one you have a crush on since forever, yet you think you’ll never really get a chance with him? And then I’d had my chance, and everything had gone so, so wrong.
My cheeks are burning just thinking about it.
God, it was so humiliating.
Right – this is where all those months of yoga classes come into play: just breathe, Avery… in… and out…
Okay, better.
Tripp? Tripp who?
I draw in a deep breath and turn to Aunty Jillian again. “So what am I supposed to do for the next seven weeks? Just sunbathe, and read some books? Because that sounds perfectly fine with me.”
Actually, it sounds pretty dull to me; at least, seven weeks of it does.
“You could always get a job,” Jillian suggests. “I’m sure I can put in a good word with the locals for you. You speak Spanish, right?”
“Um – un poco.”
She laughs. Even her laugh sounds different – lighter, more carefree.
I can’t get over how much she’s changed.
I tell her that, and Jillian laughs again, grinning ear-to-ear. “I just needed a change of scenery, sweetie. From what your mom told me, maybe that’d do you some good, too.”
I don’t answer that; I just slump in my seat instead. My legs slip on the leather, slick with sweat. I scrunch my face up in disgust, and start counting down the minutes until we arrive at Jillian’s villa, and I can take a shower.
5:32pm (local time)
Disaster! My shampoo and condition both exploded in my bag and there is nothing left of either of them. The worst part? I let my hairdresser cajole me into buying them literally three days ago, and I hadn’t even used them yet. They’re ridiculously overpriced but supposed to help protect my hair in the heat and maintain my highlights.
Jillian’s going to lend me some of her shampoo – and I know it’s only shampoo, but still. It’s like this vacation just wants to be a nightmare for me.
I feel like crying.
It’s really stupid, I know; but I just feel so crap.
My toiletries are covered in gunk, and my parents have shipped me off for the summer, and I bet everyone will be back at home laughing at me.
But I’m not going to burst into tears: at least, not right now, because Jillian’s knocking on my door.
“Come on in,” I shout.
My room is dwarfed right now by all of my luggage: two large duffel bags and one massive suitcase; not to mention my humungous purse, which I checked in as a carry-on. There’s a single bed in the room, half the size of my bed at home (but the mattress is springy and incredibly comfortable, so I’m not complaining); a dresser; a wardrobe; a nightstand, and an en-suite bathroom, which doesn’t have a bath, just a shower.
Jillian opens the door – it only opens about halfway, though, because I’ve dumped a pile of shoes over there. She picks her way across an open suitcase spewing clothes and a haphazard mound of purses to get to the bed, of which she perches on the end.
“Avery,” she starts, in that tone. A tone that screams ‘we are having a serious talk and we are having it now’. “Listen. I know this wasn’t your first choice of how to spend your summer vacation, and I know you feel like you could be doing better things than sticking around here with me all summer. But your parents think it would do you some good; and I have to say, I agree with them. Now, I can’t promise that this will be an awesome summer, but you can at least make it a good one. You know?”
“Um…” I don’t think I do know, actually. “Sure. Right.”
Jillian flashes me a smile. “Why don’t you take a shower and get dressed? Here, I brought the shampoo you wanted, too. Dinner’s at seven.”
“Okay,” I say, and take the bottle of shampoo she’s holding out to me. “Thanks.”
When she leaves, I stand amongst my things, which are tossed about the room with what seemed like a logical order at the time I unpacked them, wondering now how I ever ended up in such a mess.
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so, what do we think? :)
I hope you enjoyed it! I'll post the next chapter in a few days' time
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