"Claro, Rubén, mañana mismo le enviaré el correo. (Of course, Ruben, I'll send the email tomorrow itself,)" I replied to my boss, tearing my gaze away from my computer screen for a moment to glance at Erik. He was sitting on the sofa, engrossed in a book while I finished my meeting.

"Andrea?" Ruben called me, and I turned my attention back to the screen. "Buen trabajo. Te enviaré el nuevo manuscrito. (Good job. I'll send you the new manuscript.)"

I nodded, wondering what kind of story awaited me this time. I just hoped it wasn't another drama of toxic loves or violent situations.

"Lo revisaré mañana. (I'll review it tomorrow)," I smiled, and after saying our goodbyes, I hung up the call. I lowered the laptop screen and let out a sigh. The call hadn't been long, but I always got nervous at the prospect of being called out, and not in a positive way.

"Finished?" Erik asked.

I nodded, shrinking at the sound of the lightning that streaked across the sky outside. The storm didn't seem to be easing up, quite the opposite. I sighed softly, looking out the window with a hint of worry.

"Are you scared of storms?" Erik asked, and I looked at him, shaking my head.

"I don't like, but no, I'm not scared," I replied. It wasn't entirely a lie, but it wasn't entirely true either. They had never terrified me, but the idea of being alone during a storm like that didn't thrill me. And if the storm didn't let up, Erik wouldn't be able to take me home.

I got up and headed towards the window, watching as the sky darkened even more. Something hit the glass and I startled, taking a step back and bumping into Erik's hands.

"I'm here, you don't have to worry," he smiled, gently rubbing my back. "Do you want some tea or coffee?"

"Coffee, thanks," I rubbed my arms, feeling a shiver, although the dining room remained warm thanks to the fireplace Erik had lit. "You don't have a television," I remarked, now realizing it.

"I don't need one," he said, preparing a coffee maker.

"You don't... watch movies?" I moved away from the window and approached the fireplace.

"I prefer reading. Books are always better."

"And you are not bored here always alone?" I rubbed my hands in front of the warm flame, being careful not to touch the glass to avoid burning myself.

"What makes you think I'm always alone? I have friends," he laughed, coming closer and rubbing my hands. Those kinds of gestures were what I loved about him. He was never intrusive, always there to comfort me.

"Really? I don't believe you," I joked, teasing him a little.

"Of course I have friends... just not on this island," he shrugged. "They're in Glasgow."

"Glasgow is far," I remarked, knowing it was considerably further south.

"I know. I used to live there," he surprised me with that information. I had assumed he had spent his entire life on this island. I had many questions, but I didn't know how to broach them, or if I really wanted to pry into his privacy. But curiosity nagged at me.

"Is your family in Glasgow?" I asked, trying not to sound too nosy. I noticed his gaze dimmed and turned sad suddenly. He shook his head and walked to the kitchen to retrieve two cups from the cupboard. I felt like I had touched on a delicate subject.

"Angus, Anne, and Nora are my only family," my heart sank, and as if the pieces of the puzzle aligned in my mind, I inferred that his parents or siblings or some other loved one had lived in Glasgow with him, but something happened, and he moved to this island. I doubted a simple argument would have distanced them so much, although... well, there I was. Far away from my home too.

"I'm sorry," I apologized.

"It was a few years ago, but it still hurts," he added sugar to my cup and turned to look at me. "Don't worry."

The sound of the coffee maker indicated that the coffee was ready. He poured it into two cups and approached the fridge to get milk for me. He knew how I liked my coffee and I only had to tell him once. I sat on the sofa and Erik approached, placing both cups of coffee on the wooden table in front of me.

I was about to say something when he gestured with his finger for me to be quiet and turned his head towards the door, as if he had heard something. With a pensive expression, he left the dining room, opening the door and letting the cold in like a winter hurricane, making me shrink a little.

It was only a few seconds, but when he closed the door, he was already by the fireplace, trying to warm me up.

"What's happend?" I asked, watching him return to my side with a trembling ball of fur in his arms.

"He was outside," he said, sitting on the floor by the fireplace. "Can you bring me a towel from the bathroom?" he asked. "Towel," he added more slowly and clearly.

"Yes," I headed to the bathroom, grabbed a towel, and returned, handing it to him.

He quickly covered whatever it was between his legs and tried to dry it off. As soon as the animal poked its head out from one side, I saw it was a dark-haired puppy.

"Is it a dog?" I asked, crouching down and offering my hand for it to sniff.

"A puppy. Must have gotten lost in the storm, poor thing," he said, getting up and gesturing for me to take care of it while he went to the kitchen to get water and some bread. As soon as he put it in front of the puppy, it began to drink desperately.

I had to admit I wasn't much of a fan of dogs. I had never had one, and they were too much responsibility, but that dark furball was really adorable.

"Hola," I said in Spanish, petting its head. The poor thing was freezing and completely soaked despite Erik having rubbed it with a towel. The puppy whimpered in fear, trembling and hiding under the towel when a new thunderclap echoed through the house.

Erik grabbed some bread and tucked it under the towel in case it wanted to eat while feeling more protected.

"When I take you to the village, I'll give him to Alec," he said, as if the puppy understood him perfectly.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

He got up, leaving it covered with the towel, and extended his hand to help me up too. I stood up, and we went to the sofa for the coffee. I took my cup in my hands, warming them with it. There was barely any light now, except for the candles and the fireplace.

"You are wet," I said, seeing his damp sweatshirt. Erik, who seemed not to have noticed that until I mentioned it, immediately took off his sweatshirt.

Damn, he was wearing a black T-shirt underneath. I swallowed and tried to act normal, looking at the trembling lump by the fireplace.

"If it doesn't stop raining, you can sleep in the bedroom," he offered, taking his cup. "I'll sleep on the sofa." I glanced at him.

"Okay."

"If it bothers you, I can go to the lighthouse," he offered, I looked at him and shook my head.

"No, it's not that," I said quickly. He rested his elbow on the back of the sofa and turned a bit to look at me, so I did too to be a bit more face-to-face. "I don't have pajamas."

Erik burst out laughing and I punched his arm lightly so he wouldn't laugh at me.

"First my coat, then my pajamas... Andrea, you ask for more than a girlfriend," he continued laughing.

"Oh, shut up," I turned to face him, sipping my coffee.

"Don't choke," he said, and true to his word, I began to cough because of him, leaving the coffee on the table and coughing while he ran his hand down my back without hitting me.

"It's your fault," I reproached him.

"It is," he ran his thumb over the corner of my lip, wiping it gently.

My eyes, trapped in the curve of his lips, made me want him more than ever. I had thought many times about the taste of his lips, about what it would be like to kiss him and what I would feel when I did. But one thing was to fantasize and quite another was to wish to feel it for real.

His hand slid just a couple of centimeters towards my neck. It was warm and pleasant. I turned my head slightly, adjusting to his touch. I closed my eyes softly, breathing calmly, not feeling like the world was going to end because of that soft and complicit caress. His thumb, caressing the profile of my jaw, also brushed my cheek when I turned my head a bit more, until my lips planted a timid kiss on his palm.

I opened my eyes to look at him. He was staring at me with shining eyes. I could almost see the flames from the fireplace reflected in them. He didn't move closer or try to kiss me, probably fearing my reaction like hours before. I opened my mouth to say something, but he stopped me by gently placing his thumb on my lips.

"Shh. Everything is fine. Nothing's going to happen," he whispered, removing his finger from my lips and continuing the pleasant caresses on my jaw and neck. "Come here."

He lifted his arm for me to snuggle up beside him, and I did so without hesitation, embracing him and nestling against his ribs, resting my head against him in such a natural way that it seemed like I was made to hug him.

"Andy, I really like you," he said, and I widened my eyes, unmoving. Because if he intended for me not to understand, he completely missed the mark. I understood him perfectly.

"Why?" I asked, my voice trembling.

"You wouldn't understand," he said, rubbing my arm and pulling me closer to him before moving to look me in the face. "But nothing's going to happen that you don't want. I promise you." It took me a few extra seconds to process what he was saying. "You're the boss. You're in control."

"Me?"

"You."

I nodded, wanting to gather the courage to tell him that he also made me feel things, that every time I saw him my legs shook, and there hadn't been just one or two nights that I had dreamt of him. That just seeing him in the pub my first night on the island, he seemed like the most attractive man in the world, but his incredible and shining character was a thousand times better.

I wanted to tell him how much I laughed with him, how much I enjoyed the time we spent together, and how scared I was that everything was happening so strongly, so quickly.

But I didn't say any of that, I just bit my lower lip and sighed softly. I didn't want to confuse him, it was enough that I was confusing myself.

"I need time," it was the only thing I managed to say.

He hugged me again, kissing my head and resting his cheek against the top of my head.

"I have all the time in the world," he assured me. "And if not, I'll live with it, but let me be your friend." I didn't quite understand that.

"Can you send it to me by text?" I asked, with a playful smile, making him laugh too.

"No. Learn English," he retorted. "Do you want to tell me something in Spanish?" I lifted my face, looking at him inches away, and nodded.

"Are you sure you don't understand me?"

Erik leaned his head back amused and looked back at me.

"Unfortunately."

"Okay," I said, starting to open up in Spanish. "Me haces sentir muy bien. Tengo muchos miedos, pero contigo me siento… diferente. Bien. (You make me feel really good. I have a lot of fears, but with you, I feel... different. Good.)"

I saw in his eyes trying to catch words, something that made sense to him, without much success it seemed.

"Me asusta sentir algo de verdad y que me hagas daño. (I'm scared of feeling something real and you hurting me)," he might not understand my words, but he must be understanding the way I looked at him, because he gently squeezed my hand against my arm, giving me confidence. "Necesito tiempo, para conocerte un poco más y saber que no estás jugando conmigo. (I need time, to get to know you a little more and make sure you're not playing with me)." The knot in my throat returned.

"I like it when you smile. I don't want to see you sad," he murmured with sorrow in his words.

"I'm not sad," I assured him.

"Are you happy?"

That question caught me completely off guard. Was I? Had I been in recent years? I was a cheerful person, but was I happy?

"I don't know," I said, realizing a truth that was too painful.

"Can I help you be happy?" he asked, and I didn't understand why me, why he wanted to make me happy.

"Why?" I asked again, confused.

"You wouldn't understand," he said with frustration, running his free hand over his face, but not letting go of me with the other.

"Try," I pleaded.

"Barcelona. Five years ago," he nodded. "Port Aventura," I frowned. Wait... what?

"Continue," I asked, my heart racing.

"I saw you at Port Aventura, with a friend, I think. Tall, brunette," he tried to explain. Yes, I had gone with Vir to Barcelona for a few days to celebrate her divorce from her jerk of a husband, and there, on a whim, we decided to go to Port Aventura to relive our teenage years.

"And you remember me?" I couldn't believe it.

"Your laugh. How happy you looked," he denied. "I was very sad. I saw you laugh with so much joy that you made me smile, for the first time in months."

Oh, come on, these things only happened in love novels. But how could he make something like that up? I was going to ask if he was sure it was me, but damn. It was me! I was there, with Vir. He couldn't know if he hadn't seen me.

"When I saw you at the Westray Inn, I swear..." he took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "It was like the sun came out. You are the sun."

I opened my mouth, not knowing what to say. I doubted that anyone had ever told me anything remotely similar. I felt my cheeks burning, and my heart had been racing for a while.

"Joder. I mean... Joder..." I covered my mouth to keep him from seeing my incredulous expression and laughed out of pure nerves. I couldn't believe it. It was too... otherworldly.

"That time, I didn't dare to thank you," he hugged me affectionately. "Thank you for making me smile that day and knowing that I could smile again."