A Plan With No Maybes

It never rains, it pours. That’s the expression, isn’t it? After 17 hours of flying through the skies on a jet-fuelled aircraft and minimal sleep, I’ve finally arrived at my destination, with anticipation that I can't quite shake.

The long-awaited queues continue behind me as I make my way through the crowds and make my way to the apartment I booked online. Water hits the ground, it splashes across the concrete as I exchange a message with my driver, and he meets me, taking my luggage with him to his car. Once inside, the air con kicks in, and we’re on our way.

It goes by quickly, thankfully. Now that it’s almost 11 pm here, it’s safe to say I’m exhausted and in need of a good night’s sleep.

That dream hits me upside the head when I trail my luggage down the alleyway, unlit and getting darker by the minute. The further I go, the more I become uncertain, wondering if I should turn back and treat myself to a hotel stay.

And it only gets worse from there.

Beads of sweat drip down my back and neck as I haul my suitcase up two flights of stairs, reaching my room eventually. It’s unlocked, the key hanging in the door, which is slightly damaged. That should have been the first and only red flag, but it only proceeds to worsen.

Dust sweeps across the floor, insects that have already passed on, and then there’s the cluster of ants crawling along the walls and on my bed, where I intended to curl up into a ball and sleep for the next eight hours.

Is this what I paid for? I might come across as ungrateful, but with how many times I’ve been to this island, I’ve come to know one thing. The people here are the sweetest on earth. Each villa I’ve stayed in has been in pristine condition, and even if the price was on the lower scale, the standard wasn’t anything less than perfect.

Here, however, keeping my sandals on in case one of the many insects decides to hitch a ride and make their way up my legs is a nightmare. The dusty air, the faint smell of mould, and the unsettling sight of ants crawling along the walls and on my bed.

Leaving my suitcase on the side, I place everything else on the rickety, worn-out chair next to my bed and weigh up my options. Exhaustion and anxiety take over, and I’m a sobbing mess.

It’s midnight already. I’m in a pair of leggings and an oversized jumper, and it’s how I remain until the morning.

I’ve been looking on the Airbnb app for the last half hour, when I find an apartment in the centre of the busiest hub on the island, I message the owner, and her response is instant, so I take the leap and book with her for a night, staying at the same place as my friend for the rest of the time I’ll be here.

One cancellation, a refund, thank God, and two new bookings later, I call it a day.

They say if you watch the same movie time and time again, it reduces your anxiety because you know how it ends, and I wish the same would be true of my life. Instead, I opt for a movie I’ve seen at least a hundred times. Letters to Juliet. It’s become one of my favourites, and not for the romantic love story, but for how she chooses herself in the end. The lead actress is a writer, just like me, and a romantic. Sure, I might be cynical and sometimes against the idea of spending the rest of my life with someone, but ultimately it’s what makes us human. Connection. We all need it to survive, no matter how much we deny it, and I include myself in that, always putting a barrier between myself and others to protect myself from being hurt again. Anyway, enough of the heavy chit chat, time to rest and hopefully I’ll be able to get some.

Cuckoo. Cuckoo.

You have got to be kidding me.

I squeeze my eyes in the hopes the sounds of a rooster closeby will fade soon enough, and luckily they do, but only for a few hours before I’m woken up again with the person next to me moving furniture and slamming every door possible.

Wonderful.

By the time I locate water, put on something to watch on YouTube, I’m ready to pack and get myself the heck out of here.

My driver picks me up at the end of the slightly terrifying alleyway, a huge smile lighting up his features. He loads my suitcase into the boot of his car, over exaggerating how heavy it is to make me laugh, and it works like a charm. He makes casual conversation, asking me where I’m from, if I’ve been here before and why I’m not fluent in the language yet. Guilt crashes over me because on the way here, I downloaded an app to learn it. It’s my fourth time here, and I want to embrace it in any way I can. Learning the language is just the start of that.

When we arrive, another smile shines my way, and my luggage is carried over a muddy puddle. I say goodbye to my driver and make my way towards apartment building number two. Fingers crossed.

It’s just how I remember, three floors, a garage underneath with scooters and motorbikes occupying the space, a repair shop in action.

I’m met with a giggling small human, and with a slight wave, the mother of the child offers me a warm smile and immediately takes my luggage. I have no idea where these women find the strength, but in one swift move, she cradles my suitcase up three flights of narrow stairs as if it weighs less than five kilograms.

The room is the exact one I stayed in last time. Fresh bedding, a multicoloured spread across the bottom with two clean towels placed in the middle, joining together in the middle to create a heart, and my heart breaks at the drastic shift from the place I just came from.

The woman who brought my case inside tells me if there’s anything I need to message anytime of the day, and with that, I change a few things out of my backpack, and go in search of a caffeine fix and something to satisfy my rumbling stomach. It’s been 12 hours since I last ate, and that wasn’t exactly filling.

Whenever I’m here, in this side of the world, there’s one café that calls to me. The people who work there are the friendliest I’ve ever come across, and as my scooter pulls in next to the newly refurbished café, I’m once again hit with gratitude that I’m here and that everything is going to be okay.

I take a seat in the corner and nestle myself in between two comfy pillows. The café has had a rebrand since I was last here, and it’s just as relaxing. Open space, wooden chairs, an array of fluffy and soft pillows, and a menu that will keep me here all day.

“Hi, miss, can I get you a coffee to start?” Miss. If I were called this back in the UK, it wouldn’t have the same effect as it does in this moment. It’s their kindness, and it’s genuine.

“Just an iced oat latte, please,” I happily respond. He repeats my order and walks away, leaving me with a weight lifted off my shoulders and the ache in my chest filling up, ridding itself of the Arctic shell that usually covers it.

I love it here. It’s not a home away from home, it’s where I feel like me. It happens the second I step off the plane and breathe in the island air. The shell I wear as a protective layer slips away as I take in my first sip of coffee, and it hits the exact spot.

The next day, now out of the shitty apartment situation for the night, I’m once again packing so I can book a car to my next accommodation. It’s where my friend is, so it makes sense to move. How I thought my first week back here would be vs what it actually turned out to be is nothing short of a rom-com, without the rom.

I don’t remember my suitcase being that heavy, but here I am, lugging it down the steps one by one anyway. By the time I make it to the bottom floor, I’ve scraped my knee.

As soon as I hop into my car, my driver talks to me about the weather, letting me know that the rainy season hasn’t officially said goodbye yet and there won’t be many sunny days to look forward to. After sitting in traffic for twenty minutes, we get onto the one-way system, and he parks up right outside the door to my new place.

My bright yellow suitcase is taken from me as the owners greet me, and my luggage is carted to my room while I catch up with an old friend. She’s been staying here with her boyfriend, and it’s nice to see her again. The screech of a chair on the tiled floor has me glancing across at the culprit, and two guys take a seat around the kitchen table.

“How weird is this?” Ava, my best friend, chants.

“Very, how has it been?”

“Just like old times,” she remarks, gazing over her shoulder at her boyfriend Chase. His dark eyes shimmer back at her, and just like that, I’m aware of how they feel about each other.

Following one of the guys who works here into my new home for the next two months, and I finally take my backpack off my shoulders, slinging it onto an empty chair. My bomber jacket goes with it, and the two guys in boardshorts stare at me.

Meeting new people scares the heck out of me, but these two, I already know, and one of them I used to have a crush on.

“Aurora,” One of them mumbles in a thick accent.

“What’s up, Karter? Didn’t know you were back.” He was banned by the previous owner, what a headcase.

“Heard everyone was going to be here, so thought, why not, you know.” Oh goody.

Fine, he’s never been a dick to me, per se. In fact, he’s the nicest guy ever, which makes hating him for his Playboy tendencies all the more infuriating.

Dark blonde wavy hair shimmers behind him, sunnies on the top of his head, dark blue boardshorts, and showing off his toned torso. Finn. He truly has absolutely no recollection of who I am. His gaze drifts up and down my figure, and I shrink into myself because of it. They both stand, and side by side, they’re at least six feet tall.

“Are we going?” Finn grunts. He clearly can’t seem to stand me because he won’t step a single toe in my direction. On top of that, he’s doing everything possible to avoid looking at me.

I raise my eyebrow at Karter, and he messes up my hair, running his hand through it. “Catch you later, Aurora. You’re coming tonight, right?”

“Maybe,” I share, with the same lack of warmth coming from his friend. I can tell going out with them is a bad idea.

“No maybes,” Karter whines, leaving the villa and pointing back at me in warning.

Making my way to my new room, I take my t-shirt off, already sweating and in need of cold air to be flowing in here. Throwing my top onto the bed, I take out my things to get the heck out of here and go somewhere I’ll instantly feel at ease.

Quickly changing, I find Karter and Finn still here. They’re having a moment, and Karter squeezes Finn’s shoulders, positioning himself in front of him.

The instant Finn’s eyes flit to me, it causes my skin to itch, but I don’t give him the satisfaction of a reaction. On my way out, I adjust my bikini top and push past him on purpose, and the next thing I hear is Finn’s bike roaring behind me on the stone path, passing by me on my way out with his surfboard attached to the side.

By the time I make it to my regular coffee spot, I text Ava to find out what exactly the plan is for the evening.

Me: Tonight?

Ava: It’s EDM night, and we get free drinks, so you can’t back out.

Me: Fine, but only to show my face and then I’ll be coming back here to read my book

Ava: Oh dear

Me: What time should I be ready?”

Ava: Probably around 10, for a smoke and a beer.

Let’s hope Finn isn’t there. God knows I could do without the extra drama.

A few hours later, back at my villa, Ava plonks herself onto my bed. “So,” she hums.

“Your boyfriend is nice, by the way, kind of strange to see you with one, but he seems sweet.”

“Yeah,” she adds, setting her phone between her outstretched legs. “He is. The best guy I’ve ever met, to be honest.”

“He better be,” my comment causes her shoulders to bob up and down, a lightness passing over her.

“I was waiting for you to say that.”

“Well, I am your best friend. You’d do the same for me.”

“I would, which is why…” Oh god, here we go. I groan, keeping my eyes on my mirror and applying a sheer layer of bronzer over my cheeks. I might not appear to be that girly, but adding a little sparkle to my makeup always makes me feel better.

“Dare I ask?”

“Ignore Finn, he doesn’t speak much English and apparently doesn’t remember you.” Wow, and that felt like a punch to the gut. I grip the edges of the sink, regretting my decision to come out. Of course, he doesn’t remember me. Why would he? I’m the girl everyone likes as a friend, but when it comes to anything romantic, it’s a firm no, and I’m always given the red light.

“He’s a dick anyway, and I don’t care.”

“Aurora, you obviosuly do. I’ll be there the whole time we’re out, so just ignore him and enjoy yourself for once.”

I force a smile, grinning through my reluctance and pack my makeup away. Leaning against the bathroom door frame, she notices my boots and bursts out laughing. “What now?”

“You can’t wear them, you’ll die of heat stroke.” She might have a point, but I love them. “Ready?”

“Yes. Is Chase driving you?”

She shakes her head, already at my door, “No, we’re drinking, so we’re all ordering bikes. You too.”

Not the first time I’ve accepted an invitation to go out and bailed at the last minute by not going through with ordering a ride to the nightclub. Ava wasn’t happy, so there’s no way I’ll get away with it a second time.

“Ordering now, see,” I wave my phone at her, and I lock my door behind us.

In a pair of black denim shorts, my leather biker boots and a cropped vest showing my toned stomach, I tuck my keys into my shorts and follow her out. Chase is already waiting for her, holding out his hands, and the sight of them together gives me hope there’s real love out there. The others from the villa meet us outside, and we all wait for our bikes to arrive. Mine is a Honda NMax, my favourite because it feels safe to be on with the chaotic traffic that we often have to get through.

As my driver pulls up, neon blue lights glow around the bottom of his bike, and I’m instantly happy. I love cars, motorbikes, anything fast on wheels, to be honest, so the way he’s altered his Honda makes me smile.

Just as I’m hopping on the back of the Honda, someone beeps as they drive past. It’s Karter, his legs dangling out ahead of him while he drives in squiggly lines on purpose. God, I hope he gets there okay.

Always appearing as a pair, Finn is behind him, helmet on, and even though his blacked-out visor is down, I know he’s glaring at me.

I glance away, putting in a headphone and letting my driver know I’m good to go. He cuts up Finn, the perfect kind of karma he was due to receive. I chance a look behind, and with his lights blasting at me, he revs his engine, waiting for the road to be clear so he can dart ahead of us. He does just that, swerving in front of us on purpose, and when we reach a stop sign, Karter lifts his visor, yelling at his grumpy friend. Finn doesn’t take much notice of the attitude being thrown his way, and his eyes are on full display as my driver slips in next to him, our legs almost grazing each other’s.

I hope tonight there’ll be no other run-ins, because if there’s one thing I hate, it’s wanting what I can’t have. The brush of his leg against mine? It’s the most electricity I’ve felt in a while, and I already know I made a mistake by coming out tonight, because now I’ll have to watch him flirt with every other girl in sight except for me, and that’s a feeling I know all too well.

My time here at the start might not have gone according to plan, but like hell will I allow anyone to affect the rest of my time here.