The blond hair on her tanned thighs had always been her symbol that it was the end of vacation. It meant that summer had worked its magic.

The dark green flip-flops by the bathroom door were dirty and almost completely worn out. The scratches on her instep had not yet fully healed and, on contact with the bubble bath, they burned a little. The water, which created a small swirl before disappearing into the drain of the bathtub, was washing off the salt and the fatigue of the day. She had dried herself with the blue terry cloth bathrobe, hanging beside the light blue one he was using. Her long brown hair had not seen a hair dryer in a month, and the lilac nightgown she had slipped on to sleep in was already wet.

Alessandro was sitting in the front of the house. Bermuda shorts, flip-flops, bare chest. He wore the weariness of the four months of peak season, now at an end. His head leaned to the wall behind him, his relaxed gaze turned toward the dark sky, smoking. Olympia had placed a kiss on his lips. He tasted like smoke, she didn’t like it, but with him it was impossible to stop, and, dragged by desire, she sat in his lap. He kissed her neck and the slightly raised nightgown left her bottom exposed.

Suddenly they heard the roar of an approaching engine. He tried to cover her with his hands and the car stopped. She felt like laughing. She kept her face hidden behind his neck, with the same conviction that children have when they think they can avoid being seen simply by covering their faces with their hands.

“Alessa’.”

“Oh!”

“Ah, stay busy, see you tomorrow.”

The car started up again.

She came out of her hiding place and looked Alessandro in the eye. She was blushing, but the yellowish light of the street lamp did not give it away.

“He definitely saw my underwear. At least I wore the good ones.”

They burst out laughing. They had reached a level of complicity that Olympia had ever shared with anyone else before. They intertwined with laughter, and he played with her hair.

“I didn’t think I would get so attached to you.”

Olympia stiffened. He could not tell her these things. That wasn’t the deal. Or at least that was not the covenant she had made with herself. He could not be hers, and this she knew well. He was of hers only on this black island, with the unpredictable sea, the fierce sun, the relentless wind, the seasonal tourism.

She didn’t answer him, kissed him hard instead. They fell asleep with their lips still touching.