It's a beautiful Saturday afternoon. The sun is absolutely beating down; one of those classic late spring heatwaves we tend to get in Central Scotland. It allows us to dream that we're in for a beautiful summer. Inevitably, we'll realise in a few months time that this actually was our summer. But I guess it's always nice to have hope.

I close my eyes and tilt my head back, trying to let the gentle bubbling of the hot tub take away my stress. But I'm very aware of the fact that I still haven't popped the question to Ric, and time is running out.

I didn't see him last night. He'd left a note propped up in the kitchen, explaining he would have to give The Chase a miss as he was meeting some friends, but that he hoped I was alright. I hadn't heard him come home.

This morning he emerged from his room only after Beth had knocked on the flat door, so I hadn't had a chance to get him alone at all. And, let's face it, this doesn't feel like something I can do with an audience.

He's opposite me right now. Those mesmerising eyes are currently hidden behind a pair of black-framed Rayban shades - probably a relief as I feel self-conscious enough in this bright red swimsuit that may as well be screaming "Baywatch Lifeguard" (it was the only piece of swimwear I could locate at short notice), and would prefer not to know if he's been looking at me or not.

Beth - looking like a supermodel in an overcomplicated black bikini - lowers herself into the hot tub and, before she sits down, passes out ice-cold bottles of cider. Mmmmm . . . Kopparberg Strawberry & Lime flavour, the perfect drink for this weather. If I wasn't feeling so knotted-up with nerves, I'd probably be ridiculously relaxed right now.

"I'll make cocktails later," Beth announces, sinking into the water and clinking bottles with the rest of us. Tom and Eddie are also here. Mitch couldn't make it. (I'm devastated.)

"You do remember I still have a race to run tomorrow, right?" Ric asks mildly.

"Mind that time you ran the Glasgow Men's 10k after we'd been out until 3 in the morning clubbing?" She counters.

"Yes. And I puked at the end. I'd prefer not to be reminded of that." Ric tips some cider into his mouth. "Thank god we grew up eventually."

Beth turns to me. "Are you a runner, Abby?" She asks, sliding her own sunglasses, a pair of rose-gold aviators, onto her nose.

I screw up my face. "Not a chance. I love the idea of it in theory, but my legs just refuse to do it."

She laughs. "Same! Ric has tried on many occasions to get me into it . . . But we've came to accept I'm not even going to be running a fun-run anytime soon."

I really like Beth. She feels like a kindred spirit, and I think we could end up good friends.

The guys tire of the hot tub pretty quickly, and wander off to get the barbecue set up. Beth and I stay submerged though, allowing our skin to prune in the hot water.

"I hope you don't mind, but Ric told me you saw your ex with another girl after the quiz," she says, voice low. I wonder when he's had the chance to mention this to her. "That must have been rough."

"It wasn't the best." I admit. And, faced with Beth's sympathetic expression, I end up telling her everything that has transpired since. The fact Declan admitted he'd been with Carrie during our break; and that he was going to show up as her date at the upcoming wedding. And Sophie suggesting that I found a guy to be my own (fake) date.

"So who are you taking?" Beth asks curiously.

"I don't actually have a date. Yet." I admit, my eyes almost unconsciously drifting towards Ric. Her gaze follows mine.

"Have you asked him?"

I shake my head, realising I'm busted. "Nah, I'm not sure whether it's actually a good idea."

She shrugs. "Well, you won't know unless you try." What I can see of her face is impassive. She really does play her cards close to her chest when it comes to Ric. She stands. "C'mon, we'd better get out and dry off so we can eat."

Dinner is great. The sun is still shining brightly, and we make the most of it, eating tasty cheeseburgers on the outside decking, chased down by the frozen strawberry daiquiris Beth has expertly whipped up.

Wanting to work off dinner, and try to rehearse what to say to Ric, I decide to go for a solo wander around the holiday park the lodge is situated in.

Because it's not peak season the park seems largely deserted; Beth explained earlier most of the lodges are privately owned. The one we're currently occupying belongs to one of her dad's friends. Which is why we're getting a free stay.

I spot a children's adventure playground up ahead with no one in it. That always feels like a sad sight to me. So, since no one is around, I decide to have a couple of goes on the slide. Then a shot on the swing.

After this, I eye up the fireman's pole (insert dirty wink here) speculatively. It's always hard to resist trying out a pole fitness move or two out in the wild, especially with no witnesses. And I'm wearing shorts so it seems like it's meant to be!

I grasp firmly onto the pole with both hands (so suggestive once again!) and tip myself upside down, wrapping my legs around it. Taking a deep breath, I remove my hands and stretch them towards the ground, holding the pose.

I then nearly fall off the pole when I hear clapping. An upside-down Ric is walking towards me. No, wait . . . He's the right way up, it's me who is topsy-turvy. In more ways than one.

"Wow, you're a dark horse," he grins, as I right myself, my head spinning. "So is this the Tuesday night class you're so secretive about then?"

"I'm not secretive about it," I say haughtily, tossing my hair back. "I just don't go out of my way to broadcast the exact nature of it."

"Same difference." He shrugs, but he's still smiling. "I thought I'd better check you hadn't got lost; I wasn't expecting to get an acrobatics show though."

"Ha, I wouldn't go that far, I'm hardly good at it." I start walking, and he follows.

"I dunno, from where I was standing, you looked pretty great," he says softly. I feel myself blush. I know he means the pole move, but I momentarily choose to pretend to myself that he means me, and that feels nice.

"Beth said you wanted to ask me something," he mentions, as we approach the lodge. Oh did she now??? "Something about a wedding?"

I sigh. "She probably shouldn't have said anything."

He sits down on the steps outside our lodge, and pats the ground next to him. "Try me?' He suggests.

I cringe. I seem to be doing a lot of cringing these days. "I need a fake date for this wedding I'm going to," I say in a rush. "It's two weeks today, and I'm sure you're busy, but Declan and Carrie are going together, and it would be less embarrassing for me if . . ."

"Whoa, take a breath." He takes a deep one of his own. "So you want someone to make Declan jealous, is that what you're saying?"

"No." I try to collect my thoughts. "Well, maybe a few weeks ago I'd have wanted that, but now I really just don't want the people I work with to be pitying me when I turn up with my sister, or alone. I want Declan and Carrie to think I don't care about them, because I have a better option." I run a hand over my face. "It's really hard to explain. Ultimately, it's a pride thing, I guess."

There's a long silence, waiting to be filled. I can't bring myself to look at Ric. I'm too embarrassed.

"Listen, it's fine," I eventually say. "I need someone who would be able to act like they were into me for the day, and I get that would probably be too difficult for you, given our brief but colourful history." I finally look at him, forcing a smile. But he's staring straight ahead, as if deep in thought.

Then he nods, as if he's made some sort of internal decision. And, still not speaking, he rises to his feet and reaches for my hand.

"Wh-what are you doing?" I stammer, allowing him to pull me up. I feel suddenly . . . Entranced.

A brief smirk lights up his face as he looks down at me. "I'm proving that I understand the assignment," he tells me, with only the vaguest hint of snark. He guides me towards him, an arm snaking around my waist, anchoring me. I inhale sharply.

That damn eye contact has just kicked in. I'm trapped in his gaze.

"You think I can't act like I'm into you?" He asks in a whisper. He reaches out, and strokes a finger down my cheek, and I feel myself shiver at the touch.

"You think I can't convince everyone that I have feelings for you?" His eyes are darker than ever, and any sign of a smile has now vanished. The only word I can think right now to describe him is "smouldering". I have searched many great romance novels (and even more sub-standard ones), and I am yet to find a better synonym for that particular word.

And why have I never noticed before how amazing he smells? Like the sea! I am melting . . . Melting!

He dips his head down. I'm doing nothing. I refuse to do anything. I can't let this affect me. Last time he was this close, I humiliated myself. That cannot happen again. But, against my will, my own head tips slightly towards him.

He presses his forehead against mine, nuzzling my nose lightly with his own. His lips are a mere centimetre away. His breath smells of mint with the slightest hint of beer. His stubble brushes against my cheeks.

"Do you think they'd be persuaded yet?" He murmurs against my mouth. My eyes flutter shut involuntarily as his hand slides down from my waist and rests momentarily on my bum. He pulls me even closer, fingers sliding into and tugging on my hair, tilting my face up further.

And then . . . His lips gently, tentatively, close over mine. Soft, warm, full . . .

It's over almost before it's even began.

A shorter kiss even than my failed attempt.

Ric has pulled away. Managed to extricate himself fully from me in a fraction of a second. I open my eyes, my vision blurry, my breath coming fast. I'm ridiculously turned on, and more than a little frustrated. I'm in mourning for the loss of the rest of that kiss; for the potential of what it could have turned into.

"Did I convince you?" He asks quietly, shoving his hands in his pockets. His face is expressionless. "Do I land the role?"

I blink. "I think you get an A plus for effort . . . And for acting," I eventually manage to say.

It looks like that smirk is about to form on his lips again, but it doesn't quite make it fully there, and his mouth just sort of twists instead. "Good." He backs away, breaking eye contact. "Just send me on the details when you get a chance, okay? I'm free that day, so it's no bother."

"Thanks Ric." I'm amazed he said yes. I'm more awestruck at what just happened though. Maybe the guy should be in Hollywood. My legs feel like jelly as I dissolve back onto the step.

Okay . . . So maybe my crush has now sky-rocketed past the moderate stage and is careering uncontrollably towards critical threat levels. But, even though it's not mutual, at least Ric has proved he'll be able to make it look like it is.

When I finally manage to pick myself up and go back inside a few minutes later, I'm informed that Ric has gone to bed.

It's only 8.30pm . . .

I know I like a slow-burn but I felt like I had to give the readers something . . . Hope you enjoyed! 😉