The wind had picked up, creating little ripples on the water. I was still wet, and although the breeze was warm, I suddenly felt very cold. I folded my arms across my chest to shield myself from the intensifying wind.

“Cold?” Damian asked.

“Freezing.” I started to shiver.

The man in the black suit returned to inform us that they were expecting a storm and we should get inside as soon as possible. I was surprised by how fast and furiously the storm escalated, beating the sky into a frenzy of raging wind and rolling black clouds. By the time we’d reached our room, the rain was pelting down, soaking our already wet clothes and hair. We rushed inside and I watched Damian get pulled into a wrestling match with the wind, until he finally managed to slam the door shut.

Thailand was a place of extremes -- no doubt about it -- ten minutes ago we were enjoying a warm, tropical evening and now we were watching violent lighting severing a stormy sky. It was breathtaking.

I shivered, colder now than I'd been before, and all I wanted to do was slip into a warm bath. But then I remembered that slightly inconvenient problem -- the open plan layout of the room. I walked over to the bath and Damian must have noticed.

“I’m pretty sure I can resist the urge to look if you want to have a bath,” he said with that devilish, slightly skew smile again. “In fact, I’d love to have one too, so I’ll promise not to peep, if you promise not to peep?”

“Why would I peep?” I felt a little uncomfortable with this conversation and its subject matter; casually devising a strategy to get naked together as if we were planning to boil the kettle. And then because we were talking about it, I suddenly started to imagine Damian naked. I couldn’t help it, okay! It was human nature, or something. I banished the thought quickly, hoping that my shocked blush wasn't as visible as it felt.

I was in a predicament; I was desperate for a bath, but the idea of communal nudity in such close proximity made me feel terribly uncomfortable.

“Um…” I scanned the room. “Okay, you have to sit on that couch over there with your back to me. And don’t you dare look, not like the airport.”

“Hey, that was an accident, I turned around at the wrong time, and it’s not like I stared.”

“Well, let’s try and not have any accidents happen this time,” I said, turning on the taps.

The bath was enormous, manufactured for optimal romance and relaxation, and stretching out in the warm water was exactly what my body needed. Of course, I made sure that my back was turned away from Damian at all times, and for added security, I'd dimmed the lights so that if there were any ‘accidents’, he still wouldn’t see anything.

We sat in complete silence, and I tried not to make any suddenly movements that would draw additional attention to me. Even though I knew that he knew that I was naked in the bath, I didn’t want to remind him of that with every splosh of the water, if you know what I mean?

“How’s the bath?” He finally spoke, which I was glad about, because it was all starting to feel pretty damn capital A.

“Good.” Monosyllabic answer, I didn’t want to encourage too much interaction in my current state of total and utter nakedness.

“Good.” A monosyllabic answer back.

Then more silence.

Is there some foolproof method for diffusing an awkward situation? Are there no self-help books about this common subject? Because I could really use a few tips right now. A joke, maybe? I was terrible at telling them. And what kind of joke; I didn’t see "Knock, Knock. Who’s there?” doing the job. Perhaps if we listened to music? But I didn’t have any, and I certainly didn’t want to listen to Depeche Mode in case I felt an uncontrollable urge to slit my wrists. Perhaps I could steer the conversation in another, surprising direction, “So what about that death penalty, hey?” I was fast running out of ideas when…

CRASH!!!!!!!!

“Holy fuck.” I instinctually screamed and leapt out of the bath as an enormous bolt of lightening felt like it hit our room. The thunder was deafening and everything went very bright. Luckily, in that moment, I’d remembered something from my Geography class about water and lightening not being the best of friends -- and it was this thought that had sent me scrambling for dry land. Everything then went very black as all the lights flickered and died.

“Are you okay, Lilly?”

“Um…” My heart was pounding, “Well I didn’t get hit or anything.”

“It felt like it hit the room,” Damian said, clearly sounding unnerved.

“Where are you?”

I looked into the darkness, my eyes had not yet adjusted and it was pitch black. There were no distant city lights or moon to help illuminate the room.

“I don’t know.” And then I suddenly realised that I was completely naked. I gasped, “Oh my God!”

“What?” The concern in his voice was clearly audible.

“Nothing, nothing.” I replied as quickly as I could, the last thing I wanted was for him to know I was naked. There was no need to draw attention to this.

But… Oh my God, what if the lights suddenly went on?

Terror took hold of me in the darkness and I strained my eyes trying to see, something, anything. But everything was black and I was completely disoriented. There was a towel on the bed, that much I was sure of – but I had no idea in which direction the bed was, or even where the bath was. And I could probably walk straight into it and snap my neck, since it was a sunken bath, and the floor was wet and slippery under my feet. I decided to guess and started walking to my left very, very slowly. Shuffling one foot in front of the other and waving my arms around in the air in front of me. I inched my way forward, until I felt a pain in my leg. I’d walked into the corner of the coffee table, and hard.

“Ow!” I cried out loudly, wincing in pain.

“What happened?”

“I walked into something.” My leg was throbbing now.

“Just stay where you are, I’m sure the lights will come on soon."

That’s exactly what I was afraid of.

And then I heard it, the upward lilting inflection in his voice that made me realise he knew what was going on.

“Oh, I see,” he said.

God I was embarrassed. “I was looking for a towel.”

“I’ve got one here,” he said, and I heard a bit of shuffling.

“Why have you got a towel?”

“I was going to bath, so I took one.”

Another silence, and I could practically hear the cogs in his brain turning.

“I could bring it to you?”

“Why don’t you just throw it to me rather?” There was no way I wanted him anywhere near my nakedness.

“And how do you plan on finding it?”

He had a good point.

“Why don’t you just wait until the lights come on, I’ll keep my eyes shut.”

“No ways!" My tone was forceful. “I’m not standing here naked.”

“Well, then let me bring it to you.”

I was hesitant to accept his offer, but I didn’t see an alternative.

“Fine, but...“

He cut me off.

“No groping,” he said, and laughed.

“And keep your eyes shut, in case the lights come back on.”

“Sure.”

Damian started to move towards me and I heard the clattering of various parts of his body bumping into things along the way.

“Say something to me, Lilly.”

“Hello, I’m here.”

I could hear Damian changing direction and he was definitely getting closer.

“Again,” he said. He was very close now.

“Hi.”

“Right. I’m going to hold out the towel now, I think you’re close enough.”

Oh crap! I hoped he didn’t touch me. I covered my boobs with my free arm and tentatively stuck my other arm out. I waved it about, expecting to bump into him at some point -- but I didn’t.

“Where are you?” My arm was moving from side to side.

“Here!”

He was close, but clearly not close enough. I cautiously took a tiny step forward, not knowing that he’d done the same, and suddenly jumped as I felt something hit my stomach.

Damian responded instantly, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to. Sorry. I…I didn’t hit you anywhere…um…?” His tone was hesitant and I knew what he was trying to say.

“No! No! It was just my… never mind.”

“Okay,” Damian said, “I’m going to hold my arm out very still and you can find it.”

Yes, this was clearly a better plan and a few seconds later I had safely retrieved the towel and wrapped it around myself. I sighed with relief! And thought I heard him do the same.

“So now what?” I felt so much better with the towel around me, but also realised I couldn’t just stand here waiting for the lights to come back on.

“If you give me your hand, I can lead us back to the lounge.”

Damian didn’t even give me the chance to respond, because a second later I felt his arm bump into mine, and our hands meet.

I remember the first time I held hands with a guy. At the time, it was the most thrilling and sexually charged thing that had ever happened to me. It was with a pimply boy called Charlie Lieberman, who sat behind me in biology. One day I felt a tap on my shoulder and a little note suddenly appeared in my lap.

Lilly,

Do you like me, or like me, like me? Tick the box.

Like me [_]

Like me, like me [_]

Charlie.

I ticked the second box and suddenly we were ‘Boyfriend and Girlfriend’. Which basically meant nothing, other than just being able to say, ‘Boyfriend/Girlfriend’. But after a few months, we went on our first real date. And when I say date, I mean that we went to a movie with a big group of friends – and we were chaperoned by my brother and future sister-in-law, who sat two rows behind us.

Charlie and I sat next to each other, and the atmosphere was electric. We had both strategically placed our hands on the armrest just a few centimetres away from each other, our little fingers almost touching. I think we must have spent the next ten minutes moving our hands towards each other at a snail's pace until they finally touched. From that point, I think it took us about half an hour to finally do something that resembled holding hands. And even though I was only thirteen at the time, it was the most physically intense moment of my little life.

We sat there in silence holding hands, our eyes glued to the screen, not daring to look at each other. I can’t tell you what that film was about because all I could feel was Charlie’s hand. That was also the first and last time I felt it because soon after that he dumped me for Melanie Andrew. (Bitch)

But that day at the movies, with Charlie’s hands in mine, I had felt something real. Something extremely potent. Because there’s holding hands, and then there’s Holding Hands. (Capital H) And you can instantly feel the difference.

Well, I instantly felt the difference…

Damian intertwined his fingers with mine. His thumb, instead of going straight to the top of my hand, slipped itself, oh so slowly, across my sensitive palm. I felt my breath quicken. I loosened my fingers, so that they could gently slide down the length of his, until our fingertips brushed each other. We both moved our fingers simultaneously, letting them slip up and down, curl around and stroke.

We finally reached the lounge, where he led me to the couch, and I sat down. Our fingers untwined themselves and I suddenly felt a rush of intense guilt. As if I was cheating on Michael. Not that I should care, but I did. My fingers were still tingling and I wanted to see the look on Damian’s face. I was very glad that the darkness was concealing mine; my blush, my smile. I wondered if he was smiling too. Under the shroud of darkness, everything felt so much more intense. The silence was deafening, until he spoke. His voice was soft, low and gravelly. It sounded different.

“Lilly?”

“Yes, Damian?” My voice was nothing more than a tiny whisper.

More silence.

The anticipation was killing me. What was he going to say? My heart pounded and my skin felt like it was on fire.

“Yes, Damian?” My voice was even softer this time.

The silence throbbed in my ears.

But he said nothing.

I waited for what seemed like forever. And then I heard him.

“How’s your leg?”

Huh?

“My what?”

“Didn’t you bump your leg?” At first I didn’t know what he was talking about, and then I clicked.

“It’s fine.” I snapped at him and felt the anger bubbling up inside me. I was angry. Furious even. But it wasn't at Damian, I was angry with myself, for letting my thoughts go somewhere they shouldn’t have. I mean, what was I expecting him to say to me? That he liked me, liked me? We didn’t even know each other, and I had a fiancé, well at least I think I have one, had one, or not…I was confused!

What was wrong with me? Clearly I was suffering from some kind of posttraumatic stress, or shock, or having a psychotic break, or suffering from a sudden attack of bi-polar or some other kind of mental illness that was turning me into a complete idiot. What was I doing with this guy? This was the second time tonight we’d held hands, and it was entirely inappropriate and weird and wrong and strange and all those kinds of words.

I heard a buzz and the lights flickered back on. I blinked several times as my eyes adjusted. Damian sat opposite me, looking in my direction and I quickly averted my eyes, furious for what I was letting myself feel.

“What’s wrong? You look angry?” Fuck, I hated that he was so observant.

“Nothing.” I spat the word out quickly. “And everything.”

Out of the corner of my eye I could see he was looking at me curiously.

“Can I make an observation, Lilly?”

This statement made me nervous, but I agreed.

“You’re not actually as much of a powerless victim as you think you are.”

“What?!” I snapped at him. I didn’t know where he was going with this, but I had a very strong feeling I wasn’t going to like it.

“Well, you keep saying how you feel everything is going wrong, how the world is conspiring against you. I think you have the power to change that.”

He was making no sense. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you’re stronger than you think. You made the decision to come on your honeymoon alone, that’s a pretty brave move; I don’t think there're many women who could have done that. And maybe what’s happened to you is a good thing...“

I cut him off, “How the hell can any of this be a good thing?”

“Perhaps all the 'bad stuff'…" (He gestured inverted commas, which I hated) “…that keeps happening, is actually, well, good. Maybe it's steering you in a different, a better direction? Perhaps you weren’t supposed to get married.”

“WHAT?” I flew out of my seat clutching my towel for dear life.

“Of course I was supposed to get married. What the fuck are you talking about. Do you know how much work I put into that wedding, it was going to be perfect!”

“Work?” The word came out loudly. “Shouldn’t you care more about the actual marriage, than the work that went into the wedding?”

That sentence stung me. It stung me so hard I took a step backwards and almost fell over another table.

“What are you trying to say? That I don’t love Michael?”

“Do you?” His tone was strange.

“Of course I love him. Besides, who the hell do you think you are judging me? What right do you have?”

The rain started pelting down again, and we had to raise our voices to be heard.

“How old are you, Lilly?” Damian stood up now, he looked fired up.

“What’s that got to do with the price of eggs?”

“Twenty-two? Twenty-three?”

“Twenty-three,” I shouted at him over the rain.

“Don’t you think you’re a bit too young to be getting married anyway?”

Oh WOW! Now that was the last straw. I pointed my finger at him, it was inches away from his face and I screamed.

“You don’t know me!! You don’t know the first thing about me!! So if I were you I would just…" The rain softened, but I was still screaming, “… shut the hell up!!!”

The volume of those last words shocked us both, and I think we could both sense that there was absolutely no salvaging this situation. Whatever Damian and I had had, it was dead and buried. I turned and walked to the bedroom, climbed into bed with my towel still on and pulled the duvet over my head. I was seething.

I don’t know how much time elapsed, but at some stage, I started to feel better. Calmer. As I lay there, I realised how exhausted I was. I closed my eyes and could feel that sleep would soon claim me.

I started to replay the fight in my head. Why had I gotten so angry with him? I thought about what he’d said; that I was stronger than I thought, brave even. He’d tried to put a positive spin on my situation, tried to make me feel better even, but I’d just kicked him in the teeth. He shouldn’t have said that stuff about not loving Michael and not getting married, but prior to that, he’d actually been nice.

Suddenly it occurred to me that I'd started the fight. I'd started it for my own reasons; I’d been feeling awkward, vulnerable and extremely guilty for feeling something for him. I’d pushed him away. Punished him for something that wasn’t his fault.

Sleep was creeping faster now and I knew I was about to succumb, and my last thought was…

… I needed to apologise to him in the morning.