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The crackle of the fire interrupts the dull buzz around the firepit, stick or twist is nearly over and Lewie couldn’t be more grateful for it. He stands somewhere in the middle, one hand in his jeans pocket and Bella leaning against his other side, more so resting her elbow on his shoulder and looking across the firepit with a small smile curling at the corners of her mouth.
At least she’d stuck, the thought of being left single and possibly getting dumped had been keeping him up throughout Casa, but not more than his decision to not walk out of the villa after Lydia had. He should’ve followed her, he would’ve followed her if the producers hadn’t stopped him, leaving him gritting his teeth and thinking about all the things he should’ve said to her.
“You alright?” Bella asks him, an impossible softness to her voice that betrays the concern that she’s trying to conceal.
“Yeah,” he breathes out, ducking his head slightly and shaking it, there’s no point lying to her, she’s always been a mate in here, “I’ve been better.”
“I know you miss her,” Bella sighs and slides her arm around his shoulders.
“I should’ve gone after her,” Lewie groans, tipping his head back and looking up at the starry sky, letting the sea air wash over his face, closing his eyes and thinking about the way his chest felt like it was being unstitched as he watched her walk out of the villa, trying to hide the tears in her eyes. “Why the hell didn’t they let me go after her?” His voice drops to a whisper as he asks Bella the question, barely able to conceal his frustration.
The producers had been adamant about it, just point blank refusing to let him walk out of the villa and he just hadn’t fought, not then, he just walked away and kept his distance from everybody else for the rest of the night. He didn’t even sleep in the bedroom. He couldn’t face it, the rest of the islanders, any of it.
Bella raises an eyebrow, careful to not let anything show on her face but she shifts her weight from foot to foot suddenly becoming a lot more restless. Lewie notices but she just gives him a bright smile.
“So, Lewie,” Maya’s voice is kind as it reaches him, sympathetic, fake or not blinking back at him when he meets her eyes. “You wanted to leave the villa when Lydia left, is that right?”
He feels eyes on him. The boys knew he wanted to leave, he remembers Ozzy having to hold him back at first, his arms curled around his shoulders as he tried to talk him down from doing something stupid like scaling the walls just to get out of the villa. It hurt, it stung when he heard Lydia’s name, especially when he could’ve handpicked at least a couple of other girls who should’ve been dumped a hell of a lot more than her.
Instinctively, he looks across the firepit to Amelia, her arms wound around Marshall’s shoulders and feels a muscle in his jaw tick. Yeah, there’s definitely at least one person who should’ve left before Lydia.
“I still do,” Lewie admits and immediately feels guilty for it when he catches a glimpse of Bella out of the corner of his eye. “Sorry. I didn’t mean that,” He rushes out, against the rumble of laughter that comes from both sides of him.
But, to his surprise, Bella just laughs and shoves his head to the side with the heel of her palm.
“You’re lucky you’re such a good mate,” Bella huffs, rolling her eyes fondly at him. “Because I’m not going to take that personally.”
Lewie grins, nudging her in the side as she rests her elbow on his shoulder again, the burning in his lungs temporarily lifted with the reminder that he’s not alone in here, at the very least he’s going to come out of this with a new group of pals.
“What would you say to her now?” Maya prods. “If you could, I mean.”
Lewie arches an eyebrow carefully, is this some kind of humiliation ritual? To get him to spill his heart out on national television for a girl who might have left him behind as soon as the doors shut behind her? He doubts that she would’ve, things were good between them, more than good. He was all about her and he was always the first person she looked for when she made a joke just to see if he was laughing too.
Gorgeous, the kind of beautiful that could’ve stolen the air from his lungs, and did. So many times but mainly when he woke up and looked down to find her chin propped against his chest smiling sleepily up at him, god, he was fucked from the first moment he saw her. Like the sun in the morning, like the stars at night, like the Spanish sun hitting his skin, it was inevitable. She was inevitable, at least to him.
“I miss her, that it’s not the same without her here,” Lewie hears himself say, his mouth twisting into a frown as he averts his gaze, looking out towards the pool and the fairy lights that twinkle in the ripples of the water. “That I wanted to follow her out because she was it for me, I think.”
He almost laughs, because it’s fucking crazy. He’s only known Lydia for a few weeks, he shouldn’t be falling this hard for her. This isn’t him, he doesn’t jump into things with both feet, especially not relationships… or whatever this is. His ex-girlfriends and his friends back home can attest to that but there’s something about Lydia that makes him want to break every one of his rules.
“Bold words,” Maya smiles.
The admission should be a weight lifted off his shoulders, something to ease the knot in his chest but it just tightens, his heart squeezing as it threatens to clean-break through his ribcage. Is Lydia even going to see this? Is she just going to think he’s being a bit much? Despite it feeling like time doesn’t exist between these walls, in the real world, it hasn’t been nearly long enough to drag real, undeniable feelings into it.
“I’m glad you didn’t leave.”
A voice so achingly familiar, light and gentle yet loud enough to sound over the burst of hushed whispers and you knew? From the boys as the girls just giggle, rolling their eyes and their replies of of course we knew.
Lewie doesn’t hear any of it though, not really, not when his head snaps up and his eyes fall on Lydia making her way across the lawn to him, a light blue dress wound around her curves as she swings her hips slightly, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip. She’s only looking at him though, a small, imperceptible smile touching the corners of her mouth.
Lewie just stares at her, his body detaching from his brain as he tries to get his feet to move, to rush towards her, to just pick her up and spin her around desperate to hear her laugh like a perfect melody in his ears. He feels hands on his shoulders, Jamal’s voice echoey in his ears, the other boys hollering behind him and the corners of his mouth tilt upwards, his gaze firmly fixed on her.
And he finally regains some of his composure.
He all but sprints towards her, like he’s chasing an overhead ball, clean through on goal with seconds left on the clock but he reaches her and doesn’t dare touch her, like she’s just his imagination playing tricks on him, like this can’t be happening. Lydia left, he watched her leave, he told her he wanted to wait for her and she’d scolded him. He’d told her he was going to walk out after her and she’d shook her head and told him to make the most of the experience.
Yet.
He lifts his hand and brushes the backs of his fingers along Lydia’s cheek, her eyes fluttering open and closed as she leans into his touch, reaching up to squeeze his fingers between her own, her fingers trembling as they hold on tightly.
“Hi, Lew,” she smiles up at him, radiant as ever, her blue eyes sparkling like the inside of a kaleidoscope as she blinks up at him, her cheeks flushed pink. So beautiful, shaking with the weight of a reunion they didn’t think they’d get. Holding onto him like he’s the only thing able to anchor her to this very moment.
“God," Lewie mutters, untrusting of his voice. “I’ve missed you,” He manages to say the words, through his wavering voice before grabbing her, his arms sliding around his waist as he pulls her flush against him.
She almost loses her footing, throwing her arms around his neck and burying her face in his chest, his heart hammering against her ear like it might suddenly lurch out of his chest, she giggles, squeezing him, because her own is doing exactly the same.
“You left.”
“I didn’t leave,” Lydia sighs, extracting herself from his arms just enough to be able to tilt her head up to look into his eyes, eyes which have yet to leave her. “It’s a long story. How about you just kiss me and I’ll tell you later?” She suggests, batting her eyelashes at him, as if he hasn’t been gone for her since the first time his eyes fell on her.
And, then, his mouth comes crashing down on hers.
The ferocity sends her stumbling backwards but Lewie just tightens his grip around her, keeping her close to him as if he would ever want to let her go again. The hollering and cheers from behind them slip away, lost in the outpouring of something neither of them are ready to admit to, something that sits dangerously close to being uttered in the secret solace of the villa where there are no cameras. Something that they want to be just theirs.
Lydia’s lips slant over Lewie’s, a steady hand on his shoulder, his thumbs pressing into her hips in response as if he could somehow fuse their bodies together.
“I’m never letting you go again,” he breathes out, reluctantly breaking the kiss and pressing his forehead against hers, searching her eyes for a sign that she feels as crazy about him as he does about her.
Lydia blinks back the mistiness in her eyes and slides her hands down his chest instead, lingering over his heart which slams against his chest.
“Is that so?” she asks, her voice a breathy whisper as she meets his eyes. “God, you’re a melt,” she teases, the words aching to be said back as she leans into his body, her arm a craved weight around his waist as their little reunion is burst by Bella shouting them over.
*
“He’s down bad for you,” Flo smiles in the mirror, meeting Lydia’s eyes in the dressing room. “Wish someone would kiss me like that.” She sighs wistfully, dropping her chin onto her propped up hand.
“Roberto not doing it for you then, not surprised babe,” Amelia chimes in, smacking her lips as she spins around on the stool to drop her eyes to her sister, sitting on the floor in front of the mirror dragging a brush through her hair. “I’m just glad we both found a boy in here.” She says pointedly, looking at Lydia who quickly averts her gaze, her own wounds and hurt still simmering underneath her skin.
“Yeah,” Grace smiles uneasily, applying moisturiser. “Marshall’s… great.”
Amelia doesn’t hear her, the sound of her own voice becoming the soundtrack to the dressing room as she talks about Marshall like he’s the love of her life. Lydia tunes it out, years of experience of being able to do so behind her back.
“I hope you’re all decent—”
Lydia’s head snaps up at the sound of Lewie’s voice, turning away from the mirror as she looks at the empty doorway, watching him only appear when Bella calls out that they’re all good, he leans against the doorframe, hands loosely in his jogger pockets and his eyes fall immediately on Lydia.
The corners of his mouth twitch up slightly when he catches her eyes, watching the way she spins her hairbrush between her fingers and the way her cheeks pinken at his attention.
“Lydia,” he says her name with such softness that it takes her aback. “Can we go for a chat?”
“Don’t want to chat with your partner then?” Bella asks with a dramatic flourish, her eyes glistening with mirth as she falls onto a stool with a heavy sigh. “I won’t forget this, Pritchard.”
But as Lydia gets to her feet, her hoodie sleeves falling down her arms and over her hands, she catches Bella’s eye across the dressing room and grins at the wink she sends her. Lewie takes her hand as she reaches him, warm and reassuring, sliding his fingers through hers as he leads her up to the terrace.
The noise of the dressing room disappears, the raucous laughter from the rest of the boys in the bedroom doesn’t exist. Nothing exists on the terrace except for Lydia, Lewie and the sparkling stars in the night sky.
It’s warm, the sun long gone but the warmth of the Spanish heat lingers. Despite that, Lydia still shivers, thumbing the inside of her sleeves as she tugs them over her hands, tilting her head up to meet the amused expression on Lewie’s face.
“What?”
“You’re cold again?” He says, automatically reaching out towards her and holding her by the arms before rubbing his hands up and down. “You’re always cold, babe.”
“Shut up,” she mumbles, an embarrassed flush colouring her cheeks as she steps into his embrace, chasing his body heat, circling his waist with her arms and smiling when his grip tightens. “It’s not my fault you’re always hot. It’s like having a personal heater.”
“Is that all I’m good for then?” He asks, his lips skimming her hairline, his hands dipping beneath the waistband of her hoodie.
Lydia hums and exhales a sigh. Casa was fun, a relief mostly that her time on the show wasn’t over but regret thrums through her body at not being able to enjoy it to the fullest… all because of the man whose arms she’s in. She hated waking up every morning in her own bed wondering if Lewie was cracking on with other girls, or if he was still as cut up about her dumping as he was at the time.
“Why did you bring me up here?” She asks, her voice muffled, tilting her chin upwards, the lawn down below a picture of peace and harmony as the water ripples in the moonlight, the mountains a shadow in the background.
A smile touches Lydia’s mouth, she’s so happy to be back.
“I just feel like I haven’t seen you much tonight,” Lewie answers her, ducking his head to drop a kiss against the side of Lydia’s neck, squeezing her in his arms, as if he can’t stand for a second to not be touching her.
Lydia laughs gently and spins in his arms, her face inches from his own.
“Yeah,” she agrees, rolling her shoulders at the tension that had been there from moments before her grand return disappear somewhere off the Spanish coast. “It’s kind of hard to find a private moment when you’re the girl on everybody’s lips.” She smirks, throwing her hair behind her and winking at him.
Lewie captures her mouth in a kiss, soft and unbearably tender. Lydia melts into it, into him, locking her wrists together around his middle and leaving a barely-there kiss at the corner of his mouth.
“Oh yeah?” He arches an eyebrow, mirroring her smirk with a small one of his own. “And who was on your mind then?”
Casa should’ve been a ball, she could’ve easily cracked on with the boys in there or had some fun at their expense, at least Hamish’s, but every moment she couldn’t stop thinking about Lewie. Amelia kept trying to push her to make the most of it but Amelia’s also never had a serious relationship in her life, so Lydia was never going to take that advice. And, despite her feigned annoyance and fond eye rolls, she actually missed hearing him talk about football like it was the greatest thing in the world.
Lydia hooks her arms around Lewie’s neck, thumbing the base of his hairline.
“You,” she grins, the word touching his lips as she presses a kiss to the sharp edge of his jaw before it falls slightly, her throat tightening with the weight of the words that dare to be said. “It was always on you.”
Lewie’s eyes widen slightly, unable to mask his surprise, his hands on her waist tightening of their own accord as he pulls her flush against him, the surprise making way for something like relief, his shoulders dropping and his face softening into something so beautiful.
He leads her to the seating, leaving little space between them as Lydia retails the story of what happened after she was dumped from the villa. To being in Casa a day early, to not being the least popular girl but actually the most popular— Lewie admitting that he doesn’t find that hard to believe, almost derailing Lydia’s train of thought as she blushes and beams at him.
“How was Casa?” She asks, catching her breath after she finishes catching him up, frowning when he doesn’t answer her at first, as if he hasn’t heard her.
He’s leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees as he looks towards the terrace door with a blank expression on his face, his eyes slightly glazed over, his hands clasped together, mouth turned down slightly.
“Lew?” Lydia murmurs, reaching out and covering one of his hands with her own, snapping him out of his stupor. “Did you hear me?”
He nods, almost jerkily and turns to face her, sitting up and relaxing against the back of the bench, flipping his hand to be able to twine their fingers together.
“Casa was…” He stops, scraping his hand over the stubble at his jaw and meets her waiting eyes, swallowing thickly when he notices the gloss of anxiety burning in the bright blue, like a perfect sapphire on the verge of smashing to pieces. “It was fine, think the other lads enjoyed it more than I did. The girls were nice, mostly frustrated that I wasn’t into them cracking on as much as they hoped.”
The corners of Lydia’s mouth twitch.
Then, he falls silent. Again. Lewie’s palms feel sweaty, his heart leaping around as though his ribcage has become a trampoline, his body raging with the words that weigh heavily there. He’s losing his mind, he has to be, falling for a girl this quickly. Lewie takes to relationships like he takes to football, everything is calculated, focussed, practiced, he’s never been the type to lose his head, a straight-line sharp precision, using his head when his passion threatens to take over. People tip him as being a captain one day, he can’t afford to let his heart take over, he can’t just jump into something without thinking about whether it’ll crash or burn.
But, Lydia’s also not like any girl he’s ever met before.
“Lewie.”
Fuck, her voice laced with an anxiety she’s trying to hide, tugging their joined hands into her lap, she squeezes like her fingers can send a line of reassurance thrumming through his body, like a ship steady on the wild waves, keeping him grounded.
“You alright?” She asks, rubbing her thumb over the back of his hand.
The lightheadedness that sweeps over him, the way his chest constricts, the scrunchiness in his stomach— it’s all weightless when he angles his body towards her and finds her chewing on her bottom lip, her eyes tracing across his face. It means nothing when the realisation settles over him like the Mallorca sunshine.
“Lyds,” and he searches her eyes for something he’s not sure he’s going to find. “I told you I don’t do this, jump into something,” he inhales sharply, until he feels it rattling through his body. “And you can call me crazy if you want to but I meant what I said down there.” He nods over to the railings, in the general direction of the firepit. “I think you might be it for me.”
The only reaction he receives is a soft gasp, Lydia staring back at him with gapped lips and the reflection of the fairy lights twinkling in the ocean of her eyes.
“What are you saying?”
Lewie looks at Lydia, like really looks at her and he’s convinced that for a second his heart actually skips a beat— either that or the club doctors really need to do more thorough examinations.
“I’m saying,” he says, rolling his lips together and lifting his hand to rest against her cheek, feeling her lean into his touch. “It doesn’t matter how many girls walk through the door, the only one I’m going to look for is you.”
The words hang in the air between them charged by something that neither of them can put a name to, can dare to put a name to knowing the second they do, it becomes real, the realest thing either of them think they’ve ever had.
“Alright, Shakespeare. You sure you were meant to be a footballer?” Lydia laughs, and just like that the tension diffuses.
But, when Lewie lifts his eyes to hers again, he doesn’t see the laughter glittering back at her, he doesn’t see her fighting for her life to not make fun of him, he just sees the emotion in his own eyes mirrored in hers. Her hand trembles where it’s still holding onto his, squeezing his fingers so tightly that he thinks she might actually snap them.
“Scared yet?” Lewie asks her with a rueful smile, dropping back against the back of the seat, his hand resting at the back of his neck.
Lydia shakes her head, her cheeks pulled tight as she smiles at him brightly.
Lewie doesn’t anticipate her next move and he tenses a little when Lydia climbs over him and drops into his lap, her arms landing clumsily on his shoulders, her fingers threading through his hair, tousling it between gentle curls and twists.
His hands rest on her thighs, skimming the edge of her pyjama shorts as she looks at him, blinking away the glistening in her eyes.
“Okay,” she says resolutely, exhaling a shaky sigh that betrays her nerves. “It’s my turn to be vulnerable. So be quiet and let me get through this before I bottle it.”
Lewie does as he’s told, his hands a warm reassurance against her skin as she gathers herself, locking her wrists behind his neck and meets his eyes.
“I told you from the start I’m bad at dating and relationships in general and the whole reason I signed up for the show in the first place was for a bit of fun because surely it can’t be as bad as the dating pool in Derby.” She stops, chewing on her bottom lip anxiously, a stormy set of feelings and fears and hopes pooling in her eyes like they’re an endless salty sea. “But you.” And to punctuate her point, she jabs him in the chest. “Ruined my fun. Because you’re so nice and you would do anything for me and you make me feel safe and I’ve never had someone make me feel like this before and it’s not fair. And you’re really fit and you’re confident but not cocky and I feel like I’m rambling—”
“Lydia—”
“Shut up. I’m not finished," she whispers, pressing the pad of her thumb against the corner of his mouth.
Lydia leans in and touches her forehead to Lewie’s, her vision blurring as her lip trembles between her teeth, god, is she really going to cry? To fall apart in front of him because her stomach can’t stop fluttering and flipping every time she looks at him. The back of his thumb touches her cheek and that’s when she realises he’s wiping away the few stray tears that have spilt.
“Lew," she whispers like it’s a secret meant just for the two of them, like they’re lost in their own bubble, away from the drama and the twists and turns, like they are the only two people who exist. “You’ve made this whole experience worth it because you’re everything I wanted to find.”
Lydia’s chest tightens as she says the words, her stomach a flutter of untamed nerves as she waits, watching Lewie’s face and the way his mouth tilts upwards, the hands on her thighs crawling upwards until they’re resting steadily on her hips. The way his eyes look brighter, like the shimmer of water touching the sun-soaked shore.
For a moment neither of them say a word, letting their confessions dangle in the air, spinning above their heads in the gentle breeze as they slot into place with each other, both of them on the same page— which they have been from day one. But, now it’s real.
Lydia closes the gap first, her hands resting delicately at the back of his neck, nails scraping across the base of his hairline as Lewie kisses her back, soft but insistent, a dizzying sort of tenderness that she’s never had with anybody else before.
The knot in her chest untangles as Lewie bunches her hair up in his hand, sliding his tongue between the seam of her lips, his hand splayed across her back as he gently lowers her to the cushions. Lydia cups his cheeks in her hands and breaks the kiss for a single second, her eyebrows raised slightly.
“So… no other girls, really?”
“What?” Lewie chuckles, his thumb gliding across her jaw. “Don’t believe me?”
“Of course I do.” Lydia hums thoughtfully, lifting herself slightly to kiss his neck, moving lower until she can scrape her teeth along the column of his throat, smiling to herself when she feels the shudder moving through his body. “I’m just making sure you know what that means.”
“Lydia.” He says pointedly, hovering above her body and searching her eyes, the intensity burning in his eyes pinning her to the cushions. “I’m not playing here. It’s you or nothing. I promise.”
She’s never had anybody be this serious about her and maybe it’s the villa playing tricks on her, pulling her to the edge and waiting for it to all blow up in her face. Maybe it’s the cynic in her, always struggling to see beyond the red flags she creates just in case she starts to get too comfortable in something that is too good to be true. But, Lewie is gazing down at her like she’s the one who is too good to be true and it’s all too much and not enough and—
“Okay,” she hears herself say, nodding as she trails her fingers along his cheeks, bringing their mouths together. “I believe you.”
Sinking into the cushions, her hair splayed out behind her like a halo of golden sun in the dark, Lewie can’t believe his luck that a girl like Lydia is willing to take a chance on him. He’s not as boisterous as the other boys, he takes a backseat on the drama, he came in here to find something real and now he might just have her.
Lydia hums as he leaves a line of kisses from her ear to her throat and back, losing herself in his touch, in the way he drags his teeth across her neck as he brackets her to the bench with his arms, the weight of his body draped over hers telling her that he’s going to make good on that promise.
*
The bedroom is bathed in darkness when Lewie and Lydia make their way back down from the terrace, all flushed cheeks and relentless energy thrumming through their bodies as they stumble through the bedroom to find their bed.
Lydia kicks the edge of somebody else’s and hops, muttering a soft fuck under her breath as she all but falls onto her own bed, trapping the duvet under her body as Lewie tries to pull it down. Even in the dark, she can make out the curve of Lewie’s mouth, the smile he’s giving her as he slides into bed, one arm held out waiting for her.
Crawling into bed, Lydia curls up against his body and drops her head to his chest feeling Lewie drop a kiss against her temple, his fingers trailing up and down his shoulder, the heat burning through her hoodie which she refuses to take off.
But even as she hooks an arm around his middle and cuddles as close as she can, almost sharing a pillow with him, she can’t feel embarrassed or scared because the feelings that had been stirring in her stomach melt away into nothing but a sense of being right where she’s supposed to be.