Summer serenade

He navigated chopsticks beautifully. I was always in awe of people who used chopsticks like they were born with them at the end of their hands. I usually ended up roughly stabbing the food with one end of a singular chopstick and getting a bare minimum, cussing at their existence but persevering anyway. But here he was, doing the chopstick dance from bowl to mouth with an aptitude I could only respect. Just then something awful happened. He laid the sticks down and looked up directly at me. My mouth agape, still mesmerised. He smiled at me. He was beautiful.

I looked away quickly, feeling my cheeks heat up but couldn’t help but look back at him. I was sitting with my parents in a Chinese restaurant on our annual summer holiday in Malaga, Spain. We were sick of the English food put in most foodie places to indulge the many tourists from the UK. We’d also dined at many tapas bars, so this was a change I welcomed.

I was an only child, so much of the discussion and focus was on me at meal times. I heard my mum chinwagging to Dad and me about catching the ferry to Tangiers and hoped Dad would respond so I could keep admiring the boy at the opposite table without interruption, or worse still, without it being noticed.

As I stole another glance at him, he stood up and walked over to our table. My heart pounded in my chest, and I tried to act casual, but I could feel my face getting hotter by the second.

‘Hi,’ he said with a friendly smile. ‘I'm Alex. I couldn't help but notice you struggling with the chopsticks. Would you like some help?’

My parents stopped talking and looked at me, waiting for my response. I was mortified and thrilled at the same time. ‘Uh, sure, thanks,’ I managed to stammer.

Alex pulled up a chair next to mine and took one of the chopsticks from my hand. ‘Here, let me show you,’ he said gently, guiding my fingers into the correct position. His touch was warm, and I felt a strange sense of calm wash over me.

‘That's better,’ he said, demonstrating how to pick up a piece of sushi. ‘Now you try.’

I attempted to mimic his movements and, to my surprise, managed to pick up a piece without it falling apart. ‘Wow, it worked!’ I exclaimed, feeling a surge of confidence.

Alex grinned. ‘See? It's not so hard once you get the hang of it.’

My parents exchanged amused glances. ‘Thank you, Alex,’ my mom said. ‘It's very kind of you to help our daughter.’

‘No problem at all,’ he replied. ‘It's always nice to meet new people. Are you all here on vacation?’

‘Yes, we are,’ Dad answered. ‘We come to Malaga every summer. How about you?’

Alex nodded. ‘Same here. My family has a summer home not too far from here. We come down from Madrid every year.’

As they chatted, I couldn't help but feel a growing curiosity about Alex. He was confident and friendly, and there was something about him that drew me in. When our parents eventually returned to their own conversations, Alex and I found ourselves in our own little bubble.

‘So, do you like Malaga?’ he asked, turning his attention back to me.

‘Yeah, I love it here,’ I said, feeling more relaxed now. ‘It's so different from home. And the food is amazing.’

He chuckled. ‘I agree. And the beaches are incredible. Have you been to Playa de la Malagueta yet?’

‘Not yet,’ I admitted. ‘We've been meaning to go, though.’

‘Maybe we could go together sometime,’ he suggested, his eyes twinkling.

My heart skipped a beat. ‘That would be great,’ I said, trying to sound casual. ‘I'd like that.’

From that moment on, Alex and I were inseparable. We spent the next few days exploring Malaga together, visiting the beaches, trying out local foods, and wandering through the narrow streets of the old town. We discovered hidden cafes, beautiful parks, and quaint shops, each adventure making our bond stronger.

One evening, as we watched the sunset from a quiet spot on the beach, Alex turned to me and said, ‘This has been the best summer of my life. I'm so glad I met you.’

I felt a lump in my throat and managed to whisper, ‘Me too.’

He reached out and took my hand, and for a moment, everything else faded away. It was just the two of us, the sound of the waves, and the warmth of the setting sun. We didn't need words to express how we felt; it was all in the way we looked at each other, the way we laughed together, and the way we held hands.

But as the days went by, a sense of impending sadness crept in. We both knew that our time together was limited. Our families would soon return to their respective homes, and the magic of our summer romance would be just a memory.

On our last day together, Alex and I made a promise. We exchanged phone numbers and email addresses, vowing to stay in touch no matter what. ‘We'll find a way to see each other again,’ he said, his voice filled with determination.

‘I hope so,’ I replied, fighting back tears. ‘I don't want this to end.’

‘It won't,’ he assured me, pulling me into a tight hug. ‘We'll make it work. I promise.’

As I watched him walk away for the last time, I felt a mix of emotions—happiness for the time we had spent together and sadness for the uncertainty of the future. But deep down, I knew that our story wasn't over. It was just the beginning of something new.

Back home, life returned to its usual rhythm. School started, and I was back to my routine, but my thoughts often drifted to Alex and the summer we had shared. We kept in touch through texts and emails, sharing our daily lives and dreaming of the next time we could be together.

Months passed, and our bond grew stronger despite the distance. We made plans to visit each other during school breaks and holidays, counting down the days until we could be reunited. Each message, each phone call, was a reminder of the special connection we had, a promise of more adventures to come.

When the next summer finally arrived, our families agreed to meet in Malaga again. The moment I saw Alex waiting for me at the same Chinese restaurant where we had first met, my heart swelled with joy. It felt like no time had passed at all, and we picked up right where we had left off.

As we sat down for dinner, I couldn't help but smile as I watched Alex navigate the chopsticks with his usual grace. He looked over at me and winked, and I felt that familiar warmth in my chest. This time, I was ready. I picked up my chopsticks and, with a bit of effort, managed to eat my meal without any major mishaps.

‘Looks like you've been practicing,’ Alex teased.

‘Maybe a little,’ I admitted with a laugh.

That summer was even better than the last. We explored new places, made new memories, and grew even closer. Our relationship had weathered the challenges of distance and time, and we were stronger for it.

One evening, as we sat on the beach watching the sunset, Alex turned to me and said, ‘I know we still have a long way to go, but I believe in us. I believe we can make this work, no matter what.’

I looked into his eyes and smiled. ‘I believe in us too.’

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a golden glow over the water, I knew that our summer love story was far from over. It was a tale of two hearts that had found each other in the most unexpected place, a story of perseverance, and a promise of many more summers to come.