One Summer in Santorini. Sandy Barker

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      Later that night, Hannah, Josh and I were sitting on the front deck of the boat, sipping some of Hannah’s Scotch – straight up, no ice – from plastic cups. After we told her about the liquor prices at the store, she’d rushed over to buy some.

      ‘I kept thinking, “What’s going to happen here? Do you want to have sex with me? Where would we even do that? We’re both living on boats – and sharing cabins!” I mean, seriously, what the hell was she thinking?’ Josh was obviously still reeling from Kiersten’s overt sexual pursuit.

      ‘Well, maybe she thought we all wanted dinner and a show,’ replied Hannah. She and I both laughed while Josh glared at us.

      ‘Oh, come on,’ I teased, ‘it was funny.’ When he didn’t respond, I added, ‘What? Too soon?’

      ‘Okay, I’m going to bed.’ He got up to leave.

      ‘Nooo. Sit. We’re only teasing you,’ I said, tugging on his hand.

      ‘It’s all good. I’m just tired. Thanks for helping me out, Sarah. And thanks for the Scotch, Hannah.’

      We waved him off with, ‘You’re welcome,’ and ‘Goodnight.’

      When he was below deck, Hannah topped up my drink and said quietly, ‘He likes you, you know?’

      ‘Josh? No. We’re friends – that’s all.’

      ‘He does. I’ve seen him watching you when you’re not looking.’ I shook my head. It wasn’t what I wanted to hear. Even if I was attracted to him – which since the bare torso incident, I realised I was – I didn’t want it to be reciprocated. Because it would mean that something could happen. And I didn’t want anything to happen. I’d sworn off men for a good reason, and I wasn’t going to get my heart tangled up in a stupid holiday romance, especially with someone who was becoming a friend.

      No way. Hannah was wrong.