Wednesday

Reza got out of bed on Wednesday morning with a fresh resolve.

He had to avoid Otto. At all costs. As far as possible, anyway…

I mean, this is getting out of hand…

This time, whatever Mum and Dad suggested for the day, he was going to go along with it, even if it meant climbing a freakin’ mountain. Absolutely. May it take as long as possible!

His plan lasted for approximately twenty minutes, or the time it took for him to have a quick shower, get dressed and shave before setting out to meet his parents for breakfast. He left his room wearing a smart, navy-blue shirt and made his way to the lobby, only to run straight into Otto and his whole family coming down the stairs.

“Hallo, Reza,” Otto said coyly, looking him up and down. “I like your shirt.”

“Umm… thanks?” Reza replied, cringing slightly. Behind the blond-haired boy, his sisters Lina and Ingrid exchanged a quick glance and giggled.

Reza wanted to disappear into the floor.

The first time they even notice me at all, and it had to be like this…!

“I’ll see you later by the pool, maybe,” Otto said brightly.

“Yeah… maybe,” Reza muttered. The German family continued down the internal stairs, heading for the breakfast room; Otto’s parents smiled vaguely at him as they passed, leaving Reza feeling flustered, very young and not at all his usual confident self.

He began to wonder if he would ever be able to come back from this. Somehow, the German boy had got him totally tied up in knots.

What was the big deal, he asked himself? Otto was all right, you know? He was a nice guy. Always friendly, sometimes funny, kinda cute…

GAH!

Reza didn’t do ‘nice’. He found it so dull. Or, he’d always thought he did. And as for ‘cute’…!

Thankfully, his parents appeared at that moment, saving Reza from imploding in his sheer confusion.

“Morning, sweetie,” Mum said. She twinkled at him, clearly expecting his usual rebuke, but he just shrugged.

“Hi, Mum,” he replied.

“Okay,” Dad said warily. “Who are you, and what have you done with my teenage son?”

“I think he’s left the building,” Reza mumbled.

“Call an ambulance, Helen,” Dad remarked, checking Reza’s forehead teasingly. “I think he’s had a personality transplant.”

“Oh, Ramin,” she chided her husband, pulling Reza into a comforting hug.

“Argh, Mum,” Reza protested, squirming free.

Dad chuckled. “Okay,” he conceded, “maybe just a partial transplant.”

All the same, Reza followed his parents docilely down to breakfast, where he sat with his back to Otto’s table to reduce the risk of any further accidental contact.

He began by helping himself to a glass of orange juice. As he returned to the table with the glass, his Nokia chimed. It was Tania.

‘hey, where u been? u didnt text at all yesterday 😐’

Reza bit his lip. ‘Soz, my bad. Was sort of a weird day.’

‘well, make up for it by texting lots today, k? xoxoxo’

Reza frowned slightly. Didn’t she want to know why his day had been so weird? He shrugged, returned the phone to his pocket, and set off in search of pastries.

* * *

When his parents suggested a boat trip to a place called ‘Positano’, Reza jumped at the chance. According to Mum and her guidebook, it was meant to be one of the most beautiful and famous places on the Amalfi coast, but Reza didn’t care. The main thing was that, with the bus ride down to Amalfi as well, they would be out all day – and Reza would get back to the hotel swimming pool much later than usual, if at all. He wouldn’t have to spend nearly so much time deflecting Otto’s attention and keeping his own mixed-up hormones in order.

This time, Reza was glad to board the crowded little bus, even though he and Dad had to stand. He had equipped himself with a rucksack containing his camera, a pair of shiny sunglasses and no less than two bottles of water, knowing that he had a long, hot day ahead of him. As they rode round the hairpin bends, he did his best to keep his rucksack out of the face of the little old Italian woman who was wedged in with him like sardines in a tin.

After a short wait on the pier at Amalfi, they boarded a bright white, open-topped passenger ferry, and soon they were striving briskly along the coast.

This was more like it, Reza thought, as the wind rippled through his soft black hair: travelling in style, experiencing a bit of surf. The rocky, mountainous coastline scrolled gently past, dotted with white villages and hidden coves. On almost every projecting rock or islet, there was yet another old stone watchtower; some of them looked like they were still lived in, while others were hollow ruins.

When the town of Positano finally did come into view, Reza whipped his camera out at once. There was no denying that it was spectacular: a staggering confection of colourful, densely packed houses, perched almost vertically on top of each other as they soared up a steeply terraced hillside next to a small sandy beach. All the same, the short little promenade looked horribly crowded.

Things didn’t improve when they made it onto dry land. It was savagely hot down here by the beach, seemingly even hotter than it had been on the dusty cobbles at Amalfi. The tourists – and there were many of them – all seemed to be filing up a tiny, narrow central street, which was a seething mass of slow-moving people.

Suddenly, Reza felt an intense craving for the quiet, airy spaces of his mountain town.

MY mountain town? I mean… what the heck?

“Oh-kaay,” Dad said, eyeing the creeping crowds dubiously. “Well, we’re here now. Let’s make the best of it.”

Even Mum looked a little pale at the thought of braving the masses, but she nodded, and they ventured into the narrow street together.

* * *

Afterwards, they wondered why they had bothered.

They struggled through the crowds, forced onwards and upwards through a narrow little passageway. The little street should have been beautiful: someone had taken the trouble to erect a rustic pergola over the length of it, and it was groaning with a carpet of the most vibrant magenta flowers Reza had ever seen, but he couldn’t even get his camera out to photograph them thanks to the number of tourist bodies that surrounded them. There were a few shops, but it was so hot and oppressive among the crowds that neither Reza nor his parents felt much like visiting them.

The little street, in turn, disgorged them onto a road halfway up the hillside. Lined with shops and restaurants in both directions, it should have been inviting, but there was nowhere to sit and catch your breath away from the madness. Every so often a passing car or minibus would squeeze through the narrow space, forcing Reza and his parents to press themselves against the rough, stucco-rendered walls.

Reza could feel his temper fraying.

“What’s the point, guys?” he complained.

He wasn’t sure why the whole experience was irritating him so much. The landscape around them was every bit as beautiful as he had become accustomed to in Ravello; olive, lemon and pine trees clung to the rocky slopes above them, and the terraces and tiers of colourful buildings and domed churches ought to have had him pointing his camera left, right and centre, but something just wasn’t right.

He found himself wishing he was relaxing back at the hotel pool… even if that meant spending time with Otto.

Reza frowned. Wasn’t I supposed to be avoiding him?

“Maybe it’ll get nicer if we carry on up the street a bit,” Dad suggested valiantly, but even Mum was looking fed up.

“No, Reza’s right,” she sighed. “I’m all shopped out for the moment, and who really wants to plod along this road?”

“All right,” Dad conceded. “Let’s head back down towards the beach and find ourselves a bar. We can get out of the sun, at least.”

And, so, to Reza’s relief, they ploughed back down the congested central street, squeezing through small gaps between the crowds.

“Over-commercialisation,” Dad muttered. “I feel sorry for the people who actually live here.”

“I wonder if anybody really does any more?” Mum countered. “What a shame.”

Now that both his parents seemed to have succumbed to his own gloom, Reza felt a bit bad for the part he had played in bringing the mood down. “At least the boat ride was fun,” he suggested, trying vaguely to salvage something from the day.

Dad raised an eyebrow. “Take a look at you,” he said, “looking on the bright side for once. Something really has got into you today.”

Reza shrugged. “Yeah, well, you guys were reminding me too much of… me, I guess.”

Dad chuckled. “I think this trip is doing you some good, son.”

Once Dad had looked away, Reza shook his head slightly.

Really, Dad? If you only knew what was ACTUALLY going on in my head…

Confusion, embarrassment and a healthy dose of shame, mingled with a certain dreadful fascination with an image planted in his mind by Otto that refused to go away…

Can I just rewind now? Forget it ever happened?

When they finally made it back down the hill, they took root at a fairly pleasant-looking restaurant that had a covered terrace facing out onto the beach, where they ordered drinks. The ice-cold mineral water that arrived with the waiter a few moments later was probably the best thing Reza had ever tasted.

Dad grumbled about everything on the menu being twice the price of the food they had had elsewhere, but they ordered lunch anyway. Reza ordered a simple, traditional-looking pasta dish called penne all’arrabbiata, whose spicy tomato kick managed to dispel his bad mood just a little.

So much for wanting to get back late. Reza decided he would be glad to head back on the earliest boat that was available.

* * *

The boat ride back to Amalfi helped to cool everyone’s fevered brows a little.

“Well, you win some and you lose some,” Dad said philosophically, while Reza dangled his arm over the side of the boat, picking up as much of the soothing sea spray as he could. “I’m sure Positano is probably lovely at a quieter, cooler time of year.”

All the same, it was a tired, hot and sticky Reza who returned to his hotel room later that afternoon. Having to catch the sweltering bus back up the valley had been a final kick in the pants that he really hadn’t needed.

He jumped straight into the shower, washing the sweat and dirt of the day away with the coolest water he could tolerate. Once he was clean and dry, he donned his swimming trunks and flung himself back onto his bed for a while, spread out like a star, revelling in the cool of the air-conditioned gloom.

Soon, he would have to go downstairs and face Otto again. And, you know what? Despite how awkward the whole thing made him feel, he was even sort of looking forward to it.

He would amuse the German boy, no doubt, with tales of the miserable day he had spent traipsing around crowded places while Otto and his family relaxed by the pool. All the same, who would be taking the better memories home? Which of them would leave Ravello with the greatest sense of what this strange part of the world had to offer? Not the people who had spent the week doing absolutely nothing, that was for sure…

When he could put off the encounter no longer, he grabbed his towel and made his way down to the poolside. Sure enough, the German family were still there, lined up on their usual sun loungers.

Otto didn’t seem to have spotted him yet. He had cast his eyes skywards and seemed to be contemplating the pine trees on the edge of the cathedral square.

Maybe he’s finally getting bored of hanging out here all day…

Reza set his things down on a sun lounger in his usual corner, glancing thoughtfully across at the other boy. Honestly, he was tired of being pursued. Maybe it was time he started a conversation himself – on his own terms.

As such, he made his way over to the other side of the pool and stopped just short of the other boy’s sun lounger. Reza flushed slightly, trying not to think about how relaxed and unfettered the German boy seemed, how flat his belly was, how smooth his complexion, how it would feel to… um…

STOP that!

“Hi, Otto,” he said.

Otto glanced at him with a surprised look, which turned into such a sunny smile that Reza was put on the back foot for a moment.

“Hi, Reza,” he grinned, springing out of his seat.

Next to him, Lina glanced up from her book and offered Reza a cheeky smile and a little wave. He glanced at her suspiciously, wondering whether she and Ingrid had been talking about him today and, if so, in what terms.

Just what did they think they saw when we met this morning?

It should have been his perfect opening to say hello to the two sisters, but something held him back. Instead, he took the easy way out, turning his attention back to the blond-haired boy, who was looking at him expectantly.

“So, how was your day?” he asked.

Otto shrugged as they made their way back round to Reza’s corner of the pool.

“The same,” he replied. “Honestly, I have been a little bored.”

“Dude, finally!” Reza replied, raising his arms to the sky in celebration. “And you’ve got… all of two days of your holiday left.”

Otto smiled. “Maybe tomorrow I’ll do something else,” he said. “We could do it together…?” he added hopefully.

Oh God! Did he HAVE to put it that way?

Fighting crazed laughter, Reza facepalmed for a moment, peeping out through his fingers. “Um…” he replied, “sorry, Otto, but I have plans for most of the day.”

And part of him, at least, was genuinely disappointed.

Otto looked a little crestfallen. “Oh, okay. I’ll look around on my own.”

Reza found he didn’t want to hurt the other boy’s feelings. “I’ll look out for you in the evening, though,” he added. “Maybe we can do something then.”

Otto brightened at once. “Great!” he said excitably, his baby-blue eyes wide. “I’ll be here. I mean, I’ll be… somewhere. I – well, I’ll look out for you, too.”

His boyish enthusiasm was contagious, and Reza couldn’t help smiling, which only seemed to make things worse. Otto suddenly seemed about ready to wiggle out of his own skin.

Aw, come on… this isn’t fair. Does he have to be so ENDEARING?

For a moment, even though neither of them were dressed, Otto looked ready to lunge forward and hug him. Reza flushed again, panicked by the thought, but thankfully the other boy pulled himself back at the last moment. He breathed a sigh of relief.

This wasn’t going at all to plan. Reza had meant to unload to Otto all about the rubbish day he had had. At the very least, it might have made the other boy laugh. But, instead, he seemed to have agreed to some kind of ‘date’.

Which was ridiculous, of course, because they would both be going home in three days.

Come ON! The whole idea is ridiculous ANYWAY!

But, what if it was a date?

Reza gulped.

A date with no future could really only end one of two ways…

What have I got myself into?!