Martina Guerra was a pretty and surprisingly homely girl. Not at all the kind of one I would have expected to catch Dylan's eye. My brothers didn't bring their girls home, but I knew more or less the taste of at least their youngest three. After all, I'd gone to school with them and seen who hung out next to them sometimes.

The object of Dylan's first love turned out to be quite different from my vision. I am mentioning it, because I had a chance to meet this girl at the end of my stay in Canary Islands. It was then that the first arrangements for my return were made, which assumed that I would greet the New Year in the company of my father and return home alone shortly afterwards. My brothers, on the other hand, were getting ready to leave the island before New Year's Eve. Each of them already had some plans for that day. Some entertaining, some professional. It was easy to guess which of them had which.

I didn't have any, because I knew that sneaking out to a party where probably my whole class was going was simply impossible in my situation. Convincing Vincent to let me go was also out of the question. I could, of course, whine to him about that a bit, but it wouldn't work and I knew it very, very well.

And since I grew up without a father all my life, devoting at least one New Year's Eve to him didn't seem like a big deal to me.

The less than a week that separates the holidays from the New Year was spent in the most family-oriented way possible. Dad was happy because for the first time in his life he was able to get all his children together under one roof. Grandma was happy, too, which could occasionally be seen through the always surrounding, invisible, dense fog made of her perpetual sulks. I was happy, too, and only occasionally did I had to stop myself from pulling all the hair out of my head together with the roots.

Since Dylan's blackmail, I was torn. On the one hand, I was afraid that the matter would come to light at the least opportune moment, and on the other, I was afraid to admit it myself. Especially given that awful video. If Dylan was telling the truth and dad and Vince really do have that much of a privacy fervor, it certainly wouldn't be appreciated.

I tried to find it. This video. I hesitated for a long time because I didn't know if incognito mode would be enough to cover my tracks, but I had no choice but to finally take a chance. I looked for it and didn't find it, anywhere. I wasn't even sure if I'd checked the website of the right bar, so I scoured a few of the ones whose locations on the map more or less should have matched and which, in pictures, were similar to the establishment from my vague memories.

When I finally got frustrated, gave up, and decided to just forget about the stupid incident, there was Dylan again with his annoying way of being. He was constantly picking on me about something and I clashed with him quite often, though I tried to be careful with that as I remembered those dumb dirts. I still haven't worked out how to act to fall on all fours.

As I've mentioned before, I like to go to the beach sometimes and that day I felt like it too. I wanted to talk to someone from the outside, probably Leo, because Mona's speaker was malfunctioning and she hasn't been able to have a longer conversation since her phone fell into the pot with the chocolate mixture while she was baking a cake for Christmas.

Well, anyway, I didn't even call Leo, because as soon as I stepped outside, I ran into Dylan, who happened to be pushing past with Tony in front of the house. He straightened up and called out after me, but I ignored him, and it wasn't long before I felt his fingers on my shoulder.

"Hey, I asked, where are you going?" he repeated, and I turned around to give him an annoyed look, because it was pointless to try to pull away.

"To the beach."

"Alone?"

I rolled my eyes.

"With Sonny." I waved my hand behind me, knowing full well that he must surely be out there somewhere. I was getting better at ignoring him. And I used to think I'd never get used to a bodyguard.

Dylan glanced over my head, then back at me. He looked like he was considering something, and whatever it was, I didn't feel like standing around waiting for him to draw some twisted conclusion of his own.

"Let me go," I demanded, jerking my hand away and showing him that I wanted to finally leave.

"Wait," he muttered, but he obeyed and took his hand away. "I'm going to the beach. Soon. Much better than this one here. I offered Tony to join me, but he doesn't want to move his lazy ass. So the honor of accompanying me now falls to you. Cool, right?"

"No, thanks."

"Wait, wait, wait. It's really pretty. That beach over there. The water is clear. Don't you want to see a new place?"

"And go there with only you? Not really," I folded my arms across my chest. I was still mad at him.

He smiled maliciously.

"Come on, I'm not going to eat you."

And well, I agreed. Yes, I know, I'm a textbook example of a younger sister who, because of her soft nature, lets her brothers take advantage of her at every turn. Because Dylan obviously had a vested interest in taking me to a beautiful, secluded beach, where he had many magical memories.

I have to admit that I was greeted there by one of the most gorgeous views I have ever had the pleasure of absorbing with my own eyes. We drove Benny's truck and stopped at an already nice and deserted beach, but that was not our destination. It was a cove, where we could only get to by wading first through prickly bushes, with my brother paving the way, and then squeezing between sizable rocks. I would never have pushed my way through those labyrinths had it not been for my guide, who every now and then told me to stop groaning and promised that I would not regret it.

Rarely would such words pass my lips, but this time I could say them without pain. Dylan was right. The small beach looked like it had been hollowed out of a massive rock. There was no sand here, as it consisted of dark pebbles. Dylan had prepared himself, however, and he had with him (in addition to usual towels) also carrimats. The blue water shimmered in the sun, and the waves rolled exceptionally gently across the ocean today. We were protected by high walls all around us, and the best part of it all was that in such a secluded place, no other living souls besides us ended up here.

"Not bad, huh?" Dylan asked, smiling mockingly at the sight of my lowered jaw. He then moved closer to the water to spread out the mats as close to it as possible and I followed him, only when I heard a shuffle behind my back, which meant that Sonny was wordlessly still following us.

We surprisingly had a nice long few moments, sitting in this very quaint place and talking a bit about completely loose, unrelated topics. He really was fine taking a break from being an idiot. Also, the weather was fantastic and I couldn't believe it was still December! I was sitting in a plain t-shirt and shorts and even though I had a sweatshirt with me I didn't think to put it on. Not to mention Dylan, who quickly got rid of even his t-shirt.

Of course, he couldn't be himself if he didn't come up with something stupid soon.

"What are you doing?" I asked, after a while shifting my gaze from the horizon of the ocean to my brother when he suddenly perked up, while just a few seconds ago he was sitting next to me on his carrimat.

"See that island over there?" he pointed to a small cluster of pale rocks emerging from the water quite a distance away. "I will swim there."

I squinted, because I swear the sun was shining like it was summer today. I guess that's why Dylan felt like going for a swim.

"But it's far away."

But he had already shed all his other unnecessary layers and stood there in his black boxers, muscular as ever. He brushed the dark hair out of his eyes and began to stretch his shoulders.

"It only seems so," he replied.

I looked there again, not very convinced.

"No, Dylan, stay here."

"Relax, little girl."

"Don't get in the water or I'll follow you," I threatened, looking at it with increasing apprehension. It was unusually calm today, but I knew that could be treacherous in the oceans.

"Don't you dare," Dylan protested lazily. "You stay on the shore. Play with some pebbles or something."

I picked myself up as he started walking towards the shore.

"I'm not kidding, I'll come in after you," I said and he turned around and pointed behind my back.

"Just try it, Sonny will see and drag you back to shore."

I didn't really feel like stripping down to my underwear (especially in front of my bodyguard), or getting into cold water, or even struggling with anyone.

"You're bored and having stupid ideas" I sighed, staring after him, and he, without turning around again, waved his hand at me. He entered the water ferociously, as if its temperature was no different from that of the air. Suddenly he folded his arms in the shape of an arrow and disappeared in the middle of the incoming wave.

Having the Monets as brothers, I lived in constant fear not only for my own life, but also for theirs. Especially since these youngest, eternally bored extreme experience seekers, had the craziest ideas. Fortunately, I was not privy to most of them, because I would have gone grey before I turned eighteen, but there were times like this, when I had to clench my teeth and pray to the heavens that my stupid brother would not drown, for example.

I sighed and sat down on a carrimat covered with a bath towel. The only downside to the pebbles was that the beach was losing its comfort. I pulled my knees up to my chin and hugged them with my arms, still squinting and not taking my eyes off Dylan's figure, which time and time again emerged from the water and became more and more distant.

I considered taking a picture of him and then telling dad that Dylan had left me on the shore and swam far out into the ocean on his own, but that wasn't enough to get him into trouble. Dad liked to swim himself, especially very early in the morning when everyone was still asleep, and he would certainly understand Dylan. And I was, after all, left with Sonny.

Well, after a while I decided to take this picture anyway. Just in case. And what the hell.

I was just tucking my phone into a fabric bag with pink and green flowers when I heard a rustling sound piercing clearly through the soft, steady hum of the waves. I lifted my head to glance back behind Dylan. He was already very, very far away. I knew, I knew, that getting to this island wasn't such a hop, skip and a jump after all.

I turned my head, expecting that maybe it was Sonny, who for some reason decided to walk behind my back. Surprised, I jumped up when I saw a girl coming towards me.

She stopped a few meters away, but she was looking at me. From the expression on her face she seemed neutral, but there was an intensity shining in her black eyes that I didn't like very much. That's not how one looks at strangers.

The girl was young, though older than me. She was wearing light-colored jeans and a white T-shirt, the shoulder strap of which fell over her shoulder, and her thick black hair was braided into a high ponytail, from which a few stubborn strands came free.

"Uhm... hello?" I asked, unsure whether she wanted something from me. I looked around, not very discreetly, for Sonny, just in case. Just a moment ago I was commenting on how deserted this place was.

"Hi," she replied firmly and clearly with a strong Spanish accent that gave her voice a lovely sweetness, even despite the not-so-friendly tone.

I glanced behind Dylan once more, and when I returned my gaze to her, she was also looking in that direction.

"Do you need any help?" I asked, trying to hide the first signs of nervousness.

The stranger's black irises slammed back into me. She remained silent, her chest waving with far more agitation than the ocean spread out before the two of us. Just as my brain began to get the first notifications of the panic gripping me, she suddenly closed her eyelids and took a deep breath, calming her visibly stressed body. Out of the corner of my eye, I also noticed that her small hands were clenched into fists.

She was short, not really, but definitely shorter than me. And curvier. To call her a bone person would be an exaggeration, but she certainly boasted nice, feminine breasts. She also had wide hips and, judging by her slightly outlined muscles on her arms, she liked to exercise.

I watched her while she took about two more breaths, all the while with her eyes closed. Only when she was ready did she open them, and then she looked much more composed.

She whispered something to herself that I didn't understand.

"I'm sorry, but I can't hear. And I don't speak much Spanish," I announced to her, turning my head slightly, eager to hear her out now that she had mostly gotten over this unexplained anger.

She sighed and combed her fingers through her thick ponytail, glancing at the ocean again for a moment.

"I'm sorry. I'm bothering you, and yet you don't even know me," The girl smiled crookedly, a smile that had nothing to do with joy.

"You're not bothering me," I lied, trying to sound friendly. "Are you looking for someone? Something? Maybe I can help..." I offered cautiously. I knew I should be careful with such offers.

"I don't think so," she cut off sourly, then she put her arms around herself as if she had become cold, although the weather was fine. After a while she added in a slightly changed tone, softer: "You're here with him, aren't you?"

I frowned.

"With whom?"

I was smitten again by the look in those eyes.

"Well, with Dylan."

Oh, so the girl knows Dylan, well great.

"I've seen you two," she added.

"Oh, right," I confirmed, "I'm here with him."

The girl snorted grimly.

"What a cabrón," The girl almost spit, so I assumed it must have been some kind of Spanish insult. "Hanging around here with some sluts."

I raised an eyebrow.

"Excuse me?"

The girl pointed to a stretch of beach behind me with her finger and her eyes flashed with anger again.

"This is my place!" she called out to me, and with the same finger she immediately pointed at herself. "I was the one who showed it to him. Nobody walks here, the tourists don't know how. They don't know that you have to go through the rocks. They don't get here. I showed Dylan this beach a long time ago," she continued and clenched her hands into fists again. "And he's bringing his girls here now!"

I opened my mouth in surprise. I didn't expect that.

"Are you Martina?" I asked and although I could not be one hundred percent sure, my intuition told me so. It all makes sense, she's Spanish, from the area, knows Dylan...

She looked at me for a moment with her eyes as big and black as the coffee Vincent usually drinks.

"What did he tell you about me?"

I turned my torso towards her, because up to now I had only been wringing my neck, which was already starting to hurt. I also raised my hands in a defensive gesture, trying to subdue her heated temper.

"Nothing, I swear. I just heard that your dog had once bitten him, is that true?" I asked softly.

Martina looked at me distrustfully and silently, her chest rippling restlessly. Finally, however, the girl nodded.

"Right."

"Well then, that's all I know about you."

She sighed in response and put her hands on her head as if she was slowly losing it.

"And I'm no slut," I added, somewhat offended.

Martina lowered her hands and looked at me with tortured look in her eyes.

"You're not, I got candied away. I mean carried away, for God's sake!" she shouted, then took another deep breath, and I began to wonder if she was all right. "It's my English, I don't use it often enough," she explained, and I nodded understandingly.

"You speak very well," I praised her.

She looked at me and the little sceptical smile she gave me was the most sincere I had ever seen in her.

"Sorry, you're no slut. I shouldn't say that, I don't know you. I'm mad at Dylan, that's why. But it's not your fault," Martina waved her hand like she was trying to get away from something.

"What did Dylan do to you?" I asked, checking to make sure the idiot hadn't really drowned himself. I didn't see him for a while, but then I noticed him when he was very close to the island.

Martina bent down and sat on bent legs not far from me. She was also looking after him.

"It's nothing," she muttered, "I just thought this place meant more to him than that." She looked at me. "No hard feelings. I showed it to him in secret and there are a lot of memories here. I didn't think he would bring his new girlfriend here just like that. I don't mean he doesn't care about you, but I thought the past was important to him too, you know, at least a little bit..."

"Whoa, whoa whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa..." I started, well before she finished. She raised an eyebrow at my reaction, but I continued: "Me, Dylan's girlfriend? Me, Dylan's girlfriend?" I croaked. "Gross. Ew. Gross." I felt like spitting. "Dylan is disgusting! He's so big and... and he's got a nasty personality. He's so mean..." I flicked my tongue in disgust. "And he's ugly. Disgusting. Bleh."

I even cringed. Martina looked at me as if I had grown two heads. She was totally not expecting this reaction, that's for sure. She wanted to say something, but I guess she couldn't form a word and just stared at me, waiting maybe for some explanation. Eventually I shrugged it off and explained what was really going on.

"Besides, he's my brother."

She stared and stared, until suddenly her face began to harden. She swallowed her saliva, pressed her lips together and lifted her chin, and the expression in her eyes became unpleasant again.

"You're lying," she said, and I raised my eyebrows.

"I am not lying."

"You're lying," she repeated and squinted her eyelids. "I've known the Monets a long time. They're all boys, Dylan doesn't have a sister."

I paused for a moment.

"It's a... long story," I sighed finally. "But the thing is, he's not my boyfriend. He never was and he never will be. I assure you."

Martina stared at me for a moment, then looked out at the ocean. This time she shielded her eyes from the sun with her hand and gave a stifled cry.

"He's coming back," she squealed and jumped to her feet. I glanced in that direction. Indeed, my brother was already swimming back. He was still far away, but we had missed the moment he came ashore. I wonder if he saw from a distance that I had company.

"Well he's coming back, finally," I muttered and looked back at Martina, when out of the corner of my eye I only saw her ponytail jump up from the sudden spurt. "Hey, where are you going? Martina!"

"I'm not going to talk to him," she hurriedly said.

"Wait! Martina! Well, you already came here, come on, don't run away!" I shouted after her, but she didn't even turn around but almost ran towards the passage in the rocks.