a/n: the elections distracted me! This should have been up ages ago 💙 Anyhow, look at our boy pout up there. Darling never stood a chance.
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Darling gets closer to making her choice.
The holiday is already shaping up to be your most memorable one yet, and it’s only halfway done.
Between all the commotion in the press about Ewan’s film, the lively spin-the-bottle game last night, and your… boys being more brazen in their affections, it doesn’t matter that you’re still half-limping and that one gorgeous blonde girl is testing the limits of your patience—Mallorca is one for the books.
Half of your vacation crew decided to head out into town for the afternoon, allowing you to see more of the local scene. Bethany, Phia, Luke, and Elliott have ventured off to see some shops moments prior, promising to rejoin the group with loads of goodies. So you walk the cobblestone streets with Tom and Freddie on either side, the lads promising to catch you should your ankle ‘betray you and make you faceplant on the street’.
Because, as Freddie put it, they “can’t have the show’s rising star with a blow to her money-maker,” pertaining to your lovely face.
You were able to finally remove your fracture boot that morning, after a long-distance call to your doctor, but you still have to slightly drag your left leg as you walk.
“Mate, if you could hurry up a little, maybe we can see more of the town,” Tom remarks with a cheeky smirk. He’s had an arm looped around yours the whole time, ever on the lookout.
“Sure, let me just use my incredible powers of self-healing. Maybe we can check one of these souvenir shops if they’ve got a bionic leg on sale,” you deadpan, fighting hard to stifle a laugh.
The fledgling weeks of spring bring a steady warmth to Mallorca. The sunlight is bright yet tempered as it casts its glow over the cobblestone streets, illuminating the quaint storefronts and cafes that line that town square. It’s a picture-perfect afternoon, so long as you don’t turn back to Ewan and Louise who are trailing a bit behind.
But your curiosity wins over, and you see Ewan smiling politely as Louise gestures animatedly, completely absorbed in her tale. You immediately realise your mistake, a pang of something—guilt, longing, confusion… and jealousy, because who are you fooling—tightening in your chest. You quickly turn back to Tom and Freddie, who are too busy scheming to notice your reaction.
“So, do we let Ewan suffer, or do we intervene?” Tom asks, tilting his head toward the pair.
You can only shrug. “I think he’s handling it. It’s probably better to give them some space.” The truth is, you know Ewan well enough to sense when he’s at his wit’s end, and even though he looks like he’s about to throw in the towel, you don’t want to complicate things further.
Who are you to deny Louise some quality time with your good buddy Ewan Mitchell? He is a stand-up guy, after all, and all of you are friends here. It’s a casual day out, nothing but a good time.
And… you do need some time to let his confession sink in. He has given the power to you, and the only thing left to do would be to choose him.
You love him, you love him, you love him.
So the choice should be easy, but why isn’t it?
Freddie smirks. “Space, you say? You mean you’re hoping he’ll finally snap and make a break for it?”
“Maybe,” you admit with a small smile. “Can you blame him?”
The three of you linger by a cafe, chatting to your heart’s delight. You catch sight of Ewan glancing your way, a genuine smile tugging at his lips. Hey, he mouths, staring you down until Louise nudges him, and he has to shift his focus back to her.
“Honestly, though,” Tom continues, “what’s the deal with him and Louise? He looks like he’s drowning over there.”
“Maybe she’s finally wearing him down,” you say, half-joking, but you’re aware of how often Ewan gives too much of himself sometimes, especially to someone like Louise. The boy’s just too sweet and polite to say no.
“I give him five minutes before he either leaves or starts shouting for you,” Freddie chimes in, his eyes dancing behind his sunglasses. “It’s a safe bet.”
Before you can respond, Ewan’s voice rises above the clamour of the street. “Actually, that’s not what I meant—”
“I can’t believe you thought that!” Louise interrupts, playfully punching Ewan’s arm, her tone a mix of disbelief and enthusiasm. “But that’s what makes you so unique! You always see things differently.”
What’s unique is the expression Ewan sports as a reaction, akin to a deer about to be hit by a Jeep.
“Unique?” Ewan repeats, a note of incredulity in his voice. He shakes his head, his mouth falling open, like he’s trying to find the words. Louise leans in closer, mentioning something about how cute he looks when confused.
Well, she’s not wrong there. You have to hand it to her—she’s persistent.
“Why are we just standing around?” Tom suddenly says. “Let’s get some drinks. We need to fuel up for the gossip you owe us.”
“I’m in,” you say a bit too quickly, desperate for a distraction. You motion toward a quaint nearby bar with a bustling atmosphere. It seems like the perfect refuge, far from the intensity of the current situation. The bartender greets you with a grin, and Tom takes charge, ordering a round of brightly-coloured cocktails that seem to match the vibe of the holiday.
Tom gives you a sly look over his glass. “So here we are, eh?”
“Here we are,” you nod, sensing something coming round the corner.
“My god, this cocktail is amazing!” Freddie gasps dramatically, oblivious to the look you and Tom are sharing. “I must know what’s in this… Is that gin and… and what?”
“I myself would rather know,” Tom begins, leaning forward, “about the truth behind all the drama. The are-they-or-aren’t-they of it all. My missus has also been bugging me about it. All she talks about is you and your Ewan.”
Freddie’s grin is huge as he raises his glass. “Bloody hell, cheers to that then! I know there’s something brewing, but no one ever tells me the details. What is this, a fight to the death? May the best Targaryen win? Lucky girl you are.”
Tom snorts. “Or may the right man win. Which, to be honest, is not Matt in this scenario.”
Freddie’s jaw drops in mock horror, clutching his chest. You may take the lad out of classical theatre for a while, but you can’t take classical theatre out of the lad. “Excuse me? Matt is a national treasure, he’s mature and reliable, and he throws a fabulous party. Might I mention how highly he speaks of you?”
Tom shoots him a scornful look. “Reliable. How riveting. Look, I love the guy, but Ewan’s practically half of her soul—”
You groan. “Can we not turn this into a debate? I’m actually trying to keep things simple now.”
“Simple,” Tom repeats, one blonde eyebrow arching. “Darling, nothing about this is simple, especially not since Ewan isn’t bound to that ridiculous PR setup anymore. Are you going to pretend that it doesn't change things?”
Freddie waves a finger. “It doesn’t have to change things. Matt’s good for her. I mean, they’re actually happy, and you need someone solid, love. Someone who isn’t going to fling you around emotionally, from the very little that I’ve heard.”
Tom rolls his eyes. “Of course, you’d think that. You get all your goss from Liv and she basically adores Matt.”
Freddie clutches his glass defensively. “Well I know for a fact that Matt is fun! And steady! You don’t need fireworks all the time to make something work.”
“But fireworks are the whole point, you know?” Tom insists. “You can’t reduce a relationship to sensible compatibility and call it love.”
“Love can be practical too,” Freddie says, looking at you. “Wouldn’t it be nice to just…breathe? To not have to worry about how he’s going to handle things every other minute?”
You wince, half-convinced by Freddie’s logic, but then Tom’s voice cuts in, softer, more serious.
“Sure, she could breathe,” Tom says, “but let’s not forget who actually takes her breath away.”
It hits you, the truth you’ve been dancing around with both of them.
Freddie gives you a sidelong look. “Alright, love, confession time. Say Ewan was still bound to that PR relationship, do you really think you could have handled not being with him? Watching him essentially be with someone else?”
You swallow, glancing down at your drink. “It would have hurt, but I would have had to handle it.”
Tom keeps the interrogation going. “And now? What would you do if he does end up with someone else? Louise seems to have her claws in him.”
You let out a huff, your next words decisive. “Look, if she can take him that easily, then he’s all hers.” Because that would mean all those heartfelt phrases about being so in love with you aren’t true.
That’s the reasonable part of you. The other, less savoury part wouldn’t hesitate to get your own claws in Louise if she swoops in to take your man, petty catfight style.
“But see! See here,” Freddie exclaims in glee, “We’re talking about Ewan and she’s already stressed. She needs a break from the drama, Tom, and Matt is like… an oasis.”
Tom rolls his eyes but doesn’t let it go. “Sure, an oasis that leaves her wishing she were somewhere else half the time.” He sighs, his voice softening. “Look, Matt’s lovely, but he’s not the one. He’s not the one who can turn your whole world upside down, and I know you two. I’ve seen you together, I’ve seen you apart, and trust me, you’re so much better together. Hell, it’s better for all of us too! I simply cannot deal with Ewan moping around again.”
You feel your cheeks warm as you consider his words. It’s almost dizzying, trying to compare the two men, as though they represent opposite sides of you, each offering something you desperately need. They’re both right, in different ways. With Matt, there’s a sense of stability that you haven’t felt before. He’s steady, he’s sweet, and he genuinely adores you despite all of the tangled strings that have bound you to Ewan.
But with Ewan… you want him, love him, with an intensity that is almost all-consuming. It’s the kind they write songs about, the kind that drives hearts crazy.
Freddie drops the dramatics, his voice sincere when he speaks again. “Darling, Tom’s got a point, but just… be honest with yourself. What do you really want? Because whatever you decide, it’s your heart on the line. And you know, we’re here for you, no matter who you choose.” And then, as if with the flick of a switch, he turns his flair back on. “God, you could choose me, just so you don’t have to deal with this dilemma of yours anymore!”
You let out a breathy laugh, all the tension you’re feeling dissipating. “I just might!”
Tom mirrors your laughter. “Now that’s a dangerous idea. But hey, life’s short, right? You don’t have to have it all figured out right this second.”
Freddie grins, raising a toast. “To being a beautiful mess.”
You clink your glass with theirs, watching in amusement as they both begin bickering again over who’s really the better choice. As the debate drifts over to which drink to order next, a quiet but unmistakable presence makes its way to your table. Ewan stands behind you, his hands resting on the back of your chair.
“I’ve been looking for you guys,” he greets calmly.
Freddie doesn’t hesitate to take a playful jab. “Ah, Ewan! All by your lonesome now? Where’s your lady?”
Ewan perches on the last empty chair on your table, catching your eyes. “My lady’s right here,” he smirks, and he says the words with such ease that your cheeks heat. Everyone would benefit from taking lessons in the Ewan Mitchell School of Charm. “Fancy a walk, darling?”
You quickly glance at Tom and Freddie, whose raised brows practically tell you that they’re going to be chattering about this as soon as you’re out of earshot. “Try not to miss me too much, boys,” you wink at them, letting Ewan help you out of your seat and whisk you away. He offers his arm to you for support, and the two of you fall into stride, allowing the buzz of Mallorca’s streets to fill the quiet between you.
“So,” he starts, “I sure hope Tom and Freddie didn’t give you any trouble.”
“Nothing I can’t handle,” you smile, your tone lowering as you decide to tease him a little. “We would have invited you over, but you seemed to have plenty of… entertainment yourself.” You playfully wag your eyebrows at him, and he makes a show of groaning and turning away.
“Don’t remind me, my darling,” he groans. “I was so close to faking an illness and making my escape.”
You chuckle at his apparent distress. “Poor Ewan. It must be so hard being adored by a beautiful girl, isn’t it? Wait, where is she again? Did you scare her off?”
“Phia came to my rescue. They went walking by the bay or something, I don’t know. And about being adored, it only matters to me if it’s by you.”
You’re about to lean into a joke and call his bluff, when he adds, “Well, you… and my mum.”
“I thought so,” you giggle, his eyes holding yours with a familiar sweetness. But then his gaze is snagged by something behind you.
“Is it just me, or does that cat look suspiciously like Sansa?” Ewan points to the front display of a rustic souvenir shop, and you immediately see a plush black cat with curious amber eyes.
You gasp softly, your hand tightening around his bicep. “I did leave Sansa back with my neighbour in London, right?”
“Are you sure? She’s right there, darling,” he plays along, grinning. “I think I’d recognise my daughter when I see her.”
“Your daughter, huh? The most you have right now is visitation rights.”
“Wait here, baby,” he presses a kiss to your temple, leaving you leaning against the wall across the shop. He disappears inside, emerging just moments later, the little cat plushie already in his hands. His expression is tender as he passes it to you. “Here. Figured you could use a bit of home.”
You take the little black cat, heart swelling at the sweetness of his gesture. “Thank you, Ewan. She’s perfect.”
He’s all smiles, his dimples deepening as he nods in response.
You hug plush Sansa to your chest. “Now I wish they also had whippet plushies, so I can give you a piece of home too…”
Ewan’s gaze softens, and he shifts slightly, his gaze dropping as he gathers his thoughts. “Darling, I hope you won’t think I’m just trying to score brownie points here or something, given the current situation, but honestly…” He hesitates, but makes up his mind as his eyes meet yours. “If I wanted to feel at home, all I really need is… to be with you.”
Your breath catches, and your mind is too focused on what you’ve just heard that your hold loosens around plush Sansa, causing it to nearly stumble out of your hands.
“Ewan,” you say softly, your voice laced with an affection you can’t quite dampen. “You don’t play fair, you know that?”
He chuckles, a little self-conscious, his hand reaching for yours. “You know me, darling, and you know how I feel about you.” His thumb brushes over your knuckles, and the touch is light, almost reverent.
“So, no Sansa needed, huh?” you tease gently, trying to keep things light even as the weight of his words lingers.
His smile returns, a little shy, a little playful. “You got that right. But maybe we don’t have to tell Sansa about this.”
You’re about to offer a witty rejoinder, when a cheerful shout slices through the air. “Ewan!” It’s Louise, her voice loud and undeniably eager, and you find yourself dropping Ewan’s hand.
And either you’re not in her line of sight, or she just didn’t bother calling out to you too. What a delightful girl.
“Oh,” Louise finally acknowledges you. “That’s a nice… toy you’ve got there.”
“It’s a plushie actually,” you mutter dryly, wiggling plush Sansa in the air.
Ewan snorts at your deadpan expression, and much to Louise’s obvious annoyance, he drapes an arm around your shoulders, pulling you snugly against him. “I got it for her. It’s almost an exact replica of her cat, isn’t it, darling?”
Your eyes widen at his purposeful cheekiness. The lad has finally had enough of another girl trying to get a bite out of him. “Well, yeah…” you stumble on your words, “It does look like her.”
Louise pouts. “What a nice, friendly gesture.”
Ewan chuckles to himself, not letting her mood dampen his spirits. “I think it’s rather romantic.”
“Hold on,” Louise responds, appraising you with a raised eyebrow. “Aren’t you dating Matty?”
“Uhhh—”
“There you kids are!” Phia materialises out of thin air, an angel in disguise.
Oh, you could just kiss the very ground she walks on.
Everyone makes their way to the pool area the next afternoon, the group scattered all around the lush backyard of the villa.
Matt lingers outside your door, waiting for you to finish changing. He leans casually against the railing, his gaze drifting downstairs to Fabien and Elliott, who are hauling crates of beer toward the poolside. He whistles and shouts out a playful, “Save me some, lads!”
“Waiting on your woman, Romeo?” Elliott sings up at him.
Matt waves them away, spinning around to face your door. As he waits, his mind drifts back to a conversation he had with Liv the evening before. She’d seen right through him, spotting the quiet insecurities he tried to keep buried and urging him to go all in with you, to show you what he couldn’t quite put into words. And so, he decided he would; he’d pour everything into showing you just how much he cared.
He has the advantage in that he hasn’t hurt you the way Ewan has in the past, and he has absolutely no intention of doing so, not when being with you feels like the easiest, most natural thing in the world.
To him, you are like the human equivalent of a shot of espresso, a musical laugh, a jolt of positive inspiration. He’s always felt this, but one night, many nights ago, this effect that you have on him became amplified.
And suddenly, you are all he sees.
And he wouldn’t have it any other way, especially not after you finally open the door. You don a forest green bikini that leaves little to the imagination, with a sheer white wrap tied loosely around your waist.
Matt lets out a low whistle, walking up to you with a slow, playful swagger. You roll your eyes at him when he unapologetically draws his gaze over your bare skin, but he can’t help it.
You look so ravishing that he wants to push you back inside the room. As stunning as your bikini is, it would look even better off.
To hell with the pool.
“What do you think?”
He has roused from whatever grey temperament he was stuck in, now that he’s had his espresso. “I'm a goner. Absolutely done for.”
“Flatterer.” You shake your head at him, taking in his broad, bare torso. “Well, you don’t look so bad yourself.”
He smirks, his large hands kneading your waist. “I'm the luckiest man on the planet, and this is you after an accident, you say? My love, you're a vision in green.”
“You like the colour?”
“Mmm, if I didn't like you in it, I'd cause a fuss about how you're playing for the other team, my Alyna.” He swoops down and kisses the crook of your neck, the spot he is aware would tickle, eliciting a soft giggle out of you.
“I could never,” you say, swatting his arm. “They were just out of black bikinis at the shop.”
“Black... green... we both know you look the best without either of them on. I mean, we did establish that six times in one night, remem—”
“Matt!” you squeal, eyes wide and scandalised. He feels smug, because he made sure you would never forget that night. “You're such a dog. Come on, let's join the others. I can’t wait to finally dip my toes in the pool.”
He is one step ahead of you the whole time, paying special attention to your bad ankle. He knows he’s being too careful when you eye him strangely, but he doesn’t care. “I got you,” he says.
“I can walk, you know,” you huff. “I’d have been down here ten seconds ago if it wasn’t for you going all Mr. Protector.”
As you reach the final landing, Phia’s voice rings out, “Hands off my woman!”
“She’s got a point.” You tilt your head at Matt, lips pulling at the corners.
“Have I? I was just kidding,” she shakes her head, before mumbling under her breath. “I'm not Ewan.”
Matt huffs out in response, trying not to let it get to him. Phia takes your other arm, deaf to your protests. It’s silly, because they’re both aware that you can probably fend for yourself, but not if they have anything to say about it.
Fabien, Elliott, and Harry are manning the grill out on the patio. Some of the ladies are cozying on their sun chairs. Ewan, Luke, and Freddie are smoking on a bench under a canopy. And Thom Yorke serenades the whole scene, the speakers emitting ambient music.
Matt’s always loved a good European excursion, but this one might be his favourite yet. Thanks to the girl who lets him fuss over her despite her feigned annoyance.
Your fingers dig tighter into his arm as the two of you lower into the pool. He relishes the moment and allows the ebb of the water to push him closer to his girl.
“Hold on to me.”
You roll your eyes, but wrap your arms around his shoulders anyway. “I'm fine, Matthew. My ankle’s almost healed back to normal.”
“Almost is the keyword there, my love. We can't take any chances. So... hold on to me, beautiful.” The late morning sun is a blanket comfort as you float on together, your laughter ringing out as he flaps an arm on the water and splashes your face.
From the sidelines, Freddie lets out a loud, teasing whistle. Matt responds with a triumphant fist pump, turning to give him a cheeky grin.
That might have been a mistake because his eyes landed on Ewan, seated comfortably to Freddie’s left, a cigarette burning low between his lips. His eyes are obscured by dark sunglasses, but he’s clearly surveying the scene unfolding in the pool with an air of nonchalance that doesn’t sit well with Matt.
He would have expected Ewan to jump in the pool as well and make a show of laying a claim on you as he had before. But no. The younger lad just sits, and watches, the makings of a smirk pulling at his lips when Matt makes eye contact.
Since when has he been this self-assured? Perhaps you’re to credit for this renewed sense of confidence?
Are you slipping away from him, and back into Ewan’s arms?
Too many questions, and not even the pleasant haze of Spain can shake the anxiety out of him.
But then, Liv strolls over, positioning herself in front of Ewan, blocking Matt’s view. She bums a cigarette from one of the guys, and as she turns, she gives Matt a subtle nod—a reminder of her advice from last night. Just show her, she’d said. Show her you’re all in.
Thank the heavens for Olivia.
Turning back to you, Matt softens, brushing a lock of hair from your face. He presses a gentle kiss to your cheek, feeling his doubts fade as you meet his gaze, eyes bright with laughter.
“Enjoying yourself there?” you ask sweetly.
“What’s not to enjoy?” he replies, his hand tracing slow, lazy circles on your back.
“I don’t know,” you shrug, “I just don’t think I’ve ever seen you glare like that before.”
“I was not glaring.”
“You so were, Matthew.”
“Oh, yeah?” he murmurs, a mischievous glint sparking in his eyes. Before you can react, he dips underwater, reemerging just inches from your thigh, where he plants a quick, teasing kiss that makes you yelp.
“Wha—Oh! Matt! Get up here!”
He surfaces, grinning, his arms winding around you again as he pulls you close. Your laughter mingles, echoing across the pool as the rest of the group cheers and jeers good-naturedly.
Just as Matt’s about to pull you in for another kiss, a loud shout breaks through the calm.
“Cannonball!” Tom’s voice echoes from the villa, and before either of you can turn around, he comes barreling out, sprinting at full speed. With a triumphant yell, he launches himself off the edge, arms and legs splayed out like a human starfish.
The massive splash sends water arcing high, soaking you, Matt, and everyone within a ten-foot radius.
“Always one to ruin the moment, Tom,” Matt jokes.
“Had to make sure you two didn’t get too cosy,” Tom shoots back, swimming closer and clapping Matt on the shoulder.
It’s all in good fun, sure, but then Matt catches Tom shoot a quick wink at Ewan, a flash of understanding passing between them.
So that’s how it’s going to be? Game on.
It’s the penultimate day of the Mallorca trip and the group has rented boats to paddle out along the stunning coastline. Only 2 people are allowed per vessel and some pairs have already formed—Phia and Phoebe, Louise thankfully pulled away from Ewan by Bethany, Harry and Freddie…
And then there’s Ewan who strides over to you determinedly. Matt is a half-step behind, his expression expectant, but Ewan is quicker. “I’m with you today, darling,” he says, his tone leaving little room for question. His hand finds yours, warm and grounding.
Matt’s eyes flicker with disappointment but he’s never been one to kick up a fuss. He gives you a faint resigned shrug, then turns to Liv. “Guess that means you and I are a team then.”
Liv rolls her eyes playfully, pushing her sunglasses up and swatting his arm. “Don’t sound so thrilled. But I promise I won’t make you row the entire time.”
Matt’s smile softens as he looks at her, his earlier disappointment slipping into something more relaxed. “Fine, but I’m claiming the right to judge your rowing skills.”
“I’ll have you know I’m an excellent rower,” Liv insists, taking her spot at the front of the boat and casting a teasing glance at him. “You, on the other hand…we’ll see.”
As you and Ewan push off into the water, he throws a glance back at the others, and a spark of mischief lights his eyes. “Think they’ll survive?”
You laugh, settling across Ewan on the boat. “I think it’ll be a surprise if Tom’s boat doesn’t capsize.”
Soon enough, everyone’s boats are spaced out on the clear, serene waters, and there’s nothing but the occasional splash of oars, the birds squawking high above, and the warm glow of the horizon. Ewan rows steadily, having doggedly refused your offer to help, and every now and then, his eyes flick to you, a soft smile never leaving his lips. His gaze lingers, like he’s committing your image to memory.
As you watch the world, he watches his world.
“Feels like another reality out here, doesn’t it?” he says, his voice barely above a murmur.
You nod, watching the sunlight dance across the water. “It really does.” You pause, glancing over your shoulder to see Liv and Matt, already in animated conversation. “It’s nice to just… forget everything for a while.”
He smiles, tilting his head. “Anything specific you wanna forget?”
You smile back. “Everything, really. The pressures, the expectations… wondering what everyone thinks or wants.”
From a few metres away, Matt’s voice carries over the water, cutting through the quiet intimacy of the moment. “I’m just saying, Liv, you don’t have to prove anything. You can let me row.”
Liv laughs, her voice filled with playful defiance. “Matt, I am fully capable of handling this. Maybe it’s you who should be taking notes.”
“Oh, I’d hate to step on your expert skills,” Matt teases back, before throwing a glance your way, his gaze lingering a bit too long before he turns back to Liv, who seems blissfully unaware of his momentary distraction.
Ewan notices it too, and his grip on the oar tightens ever so slightly. But he says nothing, keeping his focus on you as he rows further along the shore.
He steers the boat around a small bend, his voice low. “They’re good together, don’t you think?”
You turn, following his gaze. It’s a simple, easy dynamic between them, one you know you’ve seen before, and for a moment, a pang of something unnameable twists in your chest.
“Yeah,” you murmur, a touch distracted.
Ewan catches your gaze, his eyes searching yours. “You seem… surprised. Or maybe… jealous?”
You laugh it off, shaking your head. “Not at all. It’s just—”
But before you can finish, a sudden splash interrupts you. Harry’s boat has tipped over, both he and Freddie flailing in the water, their laughter filling the air as they try to right themselves.
Bethany, a few feet away, doubles over, her laughter carrying over the waves. “Oh my god, Freddie, I told you to sit still!”
Harry, sputtering as he surfaces, grins. “Guess I got too excited.”
“So I was wrong,” you turn to Ewan, smirking. “It’s not Tom who capsized.”
Ewan just laughs, then adds slyly, “Here I was wishing it would have been Matt.”
After the boats return to shore, you’re all tired and exhilarated, the sun higher in the sky as you make your way up the beach. But the peace is short-lived. Fans, seemingly appearing out of nowhere, begin to gather along the shore, their voices excited, cameras ready as they shout greetings and ask for photos. The relaxed energy shifts as each of you is drawn into the swirl of attention, questions flying as you try to keep up.
A fan steps in close, slightly shaking in her nerves. “You… and Ewan?” she asks, the question open-ended but its meaning clear.
You chuckle awkwardly, caught off guard, opting to just wrap an arm around her shoulders as she takes a selfie with you.
But the fan is relentless, her attention shifting to Matt, who’s standing off to the side with Liv, his gaze directed toward you even as he signs another fan’s poster. “What about him?” she says, grinning.
Ewan’s arm slips around your waist protectively, pulling you closer. “She’s with me today,” he says confidently, not minding the possibility of this fan taking to the internet after this encounter, with proof of her ship actually being together.
Ewan doesn’t care; he has no reason to hide how much he wants you. Not anymore. If his fans want a crumb, as he often reads online about him, then he’s going to give them a whole feast.
With you as the main course in the Ewan banquet.
As the day comes to a close, you find yourself resting all alone in your room, stealing the group introvert mantle right under Ewan’s nose. Everything that has happened during this vacation plays in your mind like a montage, and somehow, it all feels like it’s building up to a grand finale.
But before you can lose yourself completely in your thoughts, there’s a soft knock at your door.
You groan to yourself as you walk over, but your protest dies as you find Ewan standing there, holding something behind his back.
“Hey, you,” he greets you with a smirk that’s more mischievous than usual. “Got a minute?”
Your heart skips a beat — it’s always been that way with him, that instant flutter, even now after everything. “Sure. What’s up?”
“I’ve got a surprise for you,” he says, his grin widening at your raised brow. He steps into your room, pulling whatever he’s hiding behind his back.
When he finally reveals it, you blink, eyes widening. “You... bought these?” You can’t help but laugh.
Two brightly coloured superhero masks — one Spider-Man, the other Spider-Gwen.
“Yep, I saw a costume shop that had Carnaval masks… and these too, apparently,” Ewan says, looking pleased with himself. “I thought it would be fun. We’re getting away from the villa tonight. I figured we could use these. You know, masks for our incognito date night.”
It had taken one quick scroll on the internet for your group to discover that the paparazzi trailed everyone around town today, and Elliott even annoyingly revealed that he might have seen one or two of them lingering outside the villa’s premises.
Vultures.
You laugh again, shaking your head. “Wait, you’re serious? We’re wearing these to our… date? Wait, why are we going on a date?”
He shrugs with a playful glint in his eye. “Why not?”
You hesitate for a second. It’s such a ridiculous idea, but in the best possible way. He’s always had a way of pulling you out of your own head, making you feel like there’s no right or wrong way to just live in the moment.
Or maybe he could propose anything—anything at all—and you’d be beside yourself if you refused. It’s how you and him ended up having copious amounts of…. casual lovemaking, months after breaking up.
“Okay,” you finally say, “but only if you promise not to laugh when I look completely ridiculous in it.”
“Never,” he says with mock solemnity, holding out the Spider-Gwen mask for you. “You’ll look amazing. Trust me.”
As you slink past the gates, the masks make you feel more than a little silly, but also oddly liberated. It’s like you’re in on another secret with him, something just for the two of you.
You look at him, smiling as you adjust the mask. “This is insane,” you say, your voice muffled behind the fabric.
Ewan smiles back, clearly pleased with himself. “I know. And it’s perfect.”
“Are you sure this isn’t just you practicing for an audition for yet another Spiderman reboot?”
He only playfully shoots air webs at you, his adorable pew-pew noises audible under his mask.
You chuckle softly, your heart warming at the sight of him. “So, what now? You’re just going to walk me through the streets like this?”
“Of course. You ready to go on the best secret date of your life?”
You laugh, feeling lighter than you have in days. “Lead the way, Spiderman.”
The walk isn’t long, just enough to enjoy the quiet of the night and the unexpected adventure of it all. When you finally arrive at the restaurant, you stop dead in your tracks, blinking up at the building in front of you. It’s perched on the edge of a cliff, offering a breathtaking view of the bay below. The warm glow of the restaurant spills out onto the street, and you’re immediately struck by how beautiful its facade is.
You look at Ewan, your surprise written all over your face. “This... this place looks amazing. How did you find it?”
“I have my ways,” he says, grinning. “Come on.”
He leads you up the stairs, and you both remove your masks as you enter, giggling to each other. You’re met with a homey, rustic atmosphere. There’s a dim light from lamps perched on the posts, the soft murmur of conversations, and the smell of fresh food in the air. It’s everything you didn’t realise you needed tonight—calm, peaceful, and more than a little romantic.
“I booked a private table for us,” Ewan says softly, glancing around for the waiter.
The two of you are escorted to a table on the balcony, overlooking the bay. The moon reflects on the water, casting a silver glimmer over the scene. For a moment, you just sit there, both of you silent, taking it all in.
“Ewan, this is incredible,” you say, your voice quiet but full of admiration. “I don’t even know what to say.”
Ewan smiles, reaching across the table to take your hand. “You don’t have to say anything. And I promise this isn’t some ploy to get you to speed up your decision-making. I just… I just wanted you to have a night where you could forget about everything else.”
He leans back slightly, his eyes studying you with that gentle familiarity, like he’s waiting for you to say something more, but he doesn’t rush you.
You glance down at the simple sundress you’ve been wearing all day. You didn’t have time to change when Ewan mentioned the surprise evening out — there was no real thought given to a perfect outfit. And yet, as you sit here now, across from him in the warm candlelight, you don’t feel the usual self-consciousness you might’ve once felt.
You feel more beautiful than you ever have before, because he sees you as the most beautiful person in the room. In any room.
“I don’t know how you do it,” you say, looking at him. “How you make everything feel so…” You trail off, unable to find anything adequate.
His lips curl into a knowing, half-smile. “I feel the same about you.”
And you might not know it yet, but this night is when you choose him.
Under the unprecedented rainfall, later on, you will realise that you never truly had to choose.
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