Free Ibiza Summer by Anna-Louise Weatherley

beeped.
    NO WAY ! WHO IS HE ? W X
    I tapped back furiously. A DJ . OWN MOPED . 100% GORGE . IZ X
    If that didn’t get her to call me, nothing would, and sure enough only a minute or so passed before my phone lit up and I heard that familiar ring tone.
    ‘Can’t talk for long, got zero credit and off to the piccies with Chantal now . . .’
    ‘Oh!’ I said. ‘Who’s Chantal?’
    ‘Never mind that! Who is this DJ bloke with his own moped? You little minx!’
    ‘Oh Wils,’ I wailed, ‘I don’t know where to begin . . .’
    ‘Er, try at the beginning,’ she said.
    And so I did my best to tell her the story of how Rex and I had met, and that he was this twenty-six-year-old DJ with his own moped and house in Es Cana, and that he’d taken me to the
beach and fed me grapes, and that he wanted to see me again, but that I hadn’t told him how old I really was. Willow had oh-so-casually said, ‘Well, just don’t tell him,
then.’ After all, she had pointed out, I was only in Ibiza for three weeks, and in all likelihood I would never see him again, and I should just enjoy having a holiday romance and stop being
a stress-head, because it wasn’t as if I was going to marry the guy, was it?
    ‘Listen, what he doesn’t know can’t hurt him,’ she said, resolutely. ‘Besides, it’s about time you had some fun and romance in your life.’
    I wished I could be more like Willow. I always managed to over-complicate everything with all my ‘what ifs’ and major stress-outs about everything.
    But she was right. Where could it all go? I was here for a three-week holiday and he was here for ever – Ibiza was his home – and eventually I’d have to say goodbye,
even though the thought of it already paralysed me with dread.
    ‘You know what, you’re right,’ I said, suddenly full of determination. ‘Maybe I should just go for it and enjoy the moment. I mean, what’s the worst that could
happen?’
    ‘Atta girl!’ Willow said, sounding pleased that I’d taken her advice. ‘Anyway, listen babes, got to run, Chantal’s waiting for me and I can’t be late. I have
to hear more about DJ boy though – sorry – man, ’ she said, giggling. ‘Call me when you can, Stan,’ she said, doing that rhyming thing she sometimes does at the
end of sentences. ‘And Iz, try not to blow it all by letting that mahoosive conscience of yours get the better of you. Just enjoy yourself and have a giggle. It’s only three
weeks, and just think how you can make Toby Parker suffer by blabbing about this faaabulous superstar DJ with a moped you snogged while you were in Ibiza . . .’
    ‘OK, I’ll let you know how it all goes,’ I promised.
    ‘Defo. And get a tan for me pleeeeease !’ she giggled.
    ‘Love you, Wils,’ I said.
    ‘You too, Barney Magoo,’ she said, adding, ‘Twenty-six! Can you believe it? You lucky cow! ’ before she hung up.
    I momentarily thought about our conversation and this Chantal girl and how it had sounded a bit like Wils had wanted to get off the phone to meet her. I wondered if I was just being paranoid,
because I’d only been gone a few days and surely Wils wouldn’t have suddenly found a new best friend in that time, would she? I didn’t have too long to dwell on it though because
suddenly Ellie burst in the room.
    ‘Don’t bother knocking,’ I said sarcastically. ‘I could’ve been naked.’
    ‘I won’t and you aren’t,’ she shot back. ‘Listen you’ve got less than an hour to get ready and then we’re going to La Tropicana for dinner, so get a
move on, lazy arse.’
    I saw the others through the door; they were all looking at a magazine and pointing to something and laughing.
    ‘Actually, Els, I feel a bit sick,’ I said, clutching my stomach and feigning illness. ‘I think it must be something I ate.’ I had to try and convince her to go out with
her friends without me. It was my only hope of getting to meet him. I knew they were planning to go to Galaxy, this