The Boy at the Beach Read online

  The Boy at the Beach

  The Meet Cute Series

  KATEY LOVELL

  A division of HarperCollinsPublishers

  www.harpercollins.co.uk

  HarperImpulse an imprint of

  HarperCollinsPublishers

  1 London Bridge Street

  London SE1 9GF

  www.harpercollins.co.uk

  First published in Great Britain by HarperImpulse 2015

  Copyright © Katey Lovell 2015

  Cover images © Shutterstock.com

  Cover layout design © HarperColl‌insPublishers Ltd 2015

  Cover design by Books Covered

  Katey Lovell asserts the moral right

  to be identified as the author of this work.

  A catalogue record for this book is

  available from the British Library

  This novel is entirely a work of fiction.

  The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are

  the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to

  actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is

  entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved under International

  and Pan-American Copyright Conventions.

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  written permission of HarperCollins.

  Digital eFirst: Automatically produced by Atomik ePublisher from Easypress.

  Ebook Edition © October 2015 ISBN: 9780008166427

  Version 2015-10-26

  For my Mum, who has always believed in me

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  The Meet Cute Series

  The Boy at the Beach

  Acknowledgements

  Coming Soon from Katey Lovell …

  Also by Katey Lovell …

  Katey Lovell

  About HarperImpulse

  About the Publisher

  The Meet Cute Series

  The Boy in the Bookshop

  The Boy at the Beach

  The Boy at the Bakery

  The Boy on the Bus

  The Boy with the Board

  The Boy with the Boxes

  The Boy at the BBQ

  The Boy under the Mistletoe

  The Boy and the Bridesmaid

  The Boy at the Beach

  ‘I don’t meet up with strangers every day, you know. In fact, I’d say it’s pretty out of character. Although it doesn’t feel like we’re strangers, does it? I feel like I know you already,’ I babbled.

  I was fidgety, restless. I ran my fingers through the coarse, golden sand, the grains slipping between the gaps in the comb-like shape my hand had made.

  ‘Well, you sort of do know me already,’ he said with a shrug. ‘It’s an unusual situation, to be fair.’

  ‘I bet it’s not that unusual these days,’ I answered thoughtfully. ‘There must be loads of people who’ve met up through the internet. Twitter, Facebook, all those online dating agencies…it’s becoming a normal way to meet people. It’s one way of finding out whether you like someone before you meet them I suppose, a kind of ‘try before you buy’.’

  He smirked, his eyes twinkling mischievously in the hazy Mediterranean sunshine. ‘So, you thought I was worth meeting up with then? Interesting.’ The last word was drawn out, almost languid. ‘So, answer me this Lauren Jordan, am I what you expected?’

  ‘I knew what you looked like already from the pictures, so that wasn’t a surprise, although your hair’s a bit shorter now. It suits you actually,’ I replied. ‘And we’ve had plenty to talk about, and I thought that we would. So yes, I suppose you are what I expected. What about me? Do I match up to with how you’d imagined me in your head?’

  ‘You talk as much as I thought you would, that’s for sure. You’re a proper little chatterbox!’ he joked and I swatted his shoulder playfully with my hand. It was the first time we’d touched. It felt both natural and strange in equal measure.

  ‘Oi! What do you mean chatterbox? I don’t talk that much. In fact, some of those emails you sent me were mammoth, like War and Peace on steroids, so don’t you dare make out I’m the only chatterbox around here!’

  ‘Little Miss ‘why use one word when ten will do?’’ he quipped, laughing. ‘I have nothing on you. Sure, I can talk. But you? You could win awards for it. Break records. Olympic champ.’ He grinned as he spoke. It was infuriating. He teased me constantly, yet I couldn’t help but laugh along with him. It was the cheeky smile, I decided. Something about it was so adorable that I couldn’t keep the mock pout fixed on my face for long.

  ‘It’s funny though isn’t it, when you meet someone for the first time and it feels like you’ve known them forever?’ I pondered, scrunching my toes into the dry, golden sand.

  ‘I think it’s pretty amazing’ he replied.

  And to be honest, I did too.

  *

  Applying to be a club rep had been a last ditch attempt to cling on to my party lifestyle. My friends had all gone away to University, but I was never academic enough for it to be an option for me.

  But there was no way on earth I was going to stay in Longthorn, the sleepiest village in Britain. No. Way. I was coming to the end of my gap year (for ‘gap year’ read ‘lying in bed until lunchtime’ year), and my parents were sick of me moping around the place complaining about having no one to go out with and the lack of excitement, both in Longthorn and my life in general. When I saw the advert looking for holiday reps in Magaluf I filled in the form like a woman possessed. After all, what did I have to lose?

  I never expected to get the job, but when I was offered a place for the up-coming summer season I jumped at the chance. I was going to be free! Partying in the sunshine! And be paid to drink shots and snog hot boys! It was going to be perfect.

  I told anyone who’d listen that I was jetting off to Majorca, escaping the confines of country life and heading off for sun, sea and hopefully super-hot sex. Living with your parents in the back of beyond hardly offered opportunities for that kind of thing, especially when everyone in my age group had buggered off.

  In fact, it was because of my dad that I’d met Toby in the first place. He’d been talking to one of the customers in his corner shop, proudly telling them his daughter was jetting off to work abroad for the summer. He told everyone that came in, I think through surprise that I’d managed to get a job at all. I’d always been a bit flighty. It turned out her son was a DJ who’d just got a residency at one of the big clubs in Magaluf, and she left her email address with Dad, encouraging him to get me to contact her so she could pass on my details to her son.

  I emailed her, reluctantly. Very reluctantly. Being honest, I probably wouldn’t have done it at all but for Dad insisting, saying it would be ‘downright rude’ to ignore her when she was trying to help me make new friends. I wanted to flippantly tell him the whole point of going out there was to make new ‘friends’, but I bit my tongue and sent a short email saying that yes, it would be nice to know more about her son.

  Later that evening, I had a reply.

  Dear Lauren,

  I am so pleased you decided to email me. My son Toby is a
DJ at Pulse nightclub in Magaluf, and I’m sure he’d be glad to show you around the town when you arrive. From what he tells me his days are often quiet as he obviously works nights.

  To be honest, I’m a bit worried about him. He’s always been a bit of a homeboy and I don’t think he’s met many people out there yet. Maybe, once you’ve settled, the two of you could spend some time together? You’ll be able to find out more about his club nights on the Pulse website, if you’re interested.

  If you’d like me to pass on your details to Toby, do say. I’d sure he’d be delighted to meet you.

  Sincerely,

  Mrs Riley (Barbara)

  Curiosity got the better of me. I was compelled by the overwhelming urge to look at the website and see what information I could glean about the mysterious Toby Riley. I scrolled past the images of drunken tourists downing violently coloured shots and then, at the bottom of the page, there it was.

  Toby Riley, resident DJ bringing you your favourite dance classics and the newest chart anthems.

  But it was the picture alongside it that made me catch my breath. He was gorgeous. His hair was light brown, scruffily spiked up on his head and he had a face which looked much younger than he must have actually been. He was boy band cute. His eyes were pale, almost indistinguishable in colour, somewhere between blue, grey and green, and his mouth was toying with the thought of smiling, curling up ever so slightly at the corners. My stomach flipped, a mixture of fear and excitement.

  In that instant I knew I’d be emailing Mrs Riley back.

  What followed was a tennis rally of emails back and forth between me and her, and then eventually Toby himself. I knew all about him, how he’d loved music since he was a toddler, that he hated the rain (which was why he’d looked for a residency in Majorca), that he thought the world of his younger sister Megan. I also knew the most random facts about him through our emails – that boiled eggs made him gag, that he’d cried when his first pet (a goldfish called Donny) had died, how he’d once dyed his hair purple for a bet.

  And with every email I knew. I knew I was falling for him, even though I didn’t know him.

  I wasn’t sure how it was possible to care so much for someone who was unaware of my existence, but he took over my every waking thought, causing an uncontrollable pain that nagged away deep in my chest.

  I finally plucked up the courage to email Toby himself the week before flying out. It took me over an hour to write a three line email, because I so desperately wanted him to like me. I couldn’t bear the thought that he might read it and press delete without a second thought. Surely he wouldn’t? He sounded sweet and sensitive, and that picture of him on the website – he’d looked normal, and kind, and ridiculously cute and sexy all at once. I held my breath as I clicked send.

  Please, please, please let him reply…

  *

  And now here we were sat on the beach, enveloped by the warmth of the evening sun. The sky was a brilliant, beautiful blue, free from the wispy white clouds which were an ever present of summer back home. The waves lapped the shore leaving a thin, foamy trace of white froth on the blanket of yellow-gold sand. There were people all around us – some topping up their tans, others playing beach volleyball or frolicking in the sea. The gentle breeze rustled the leaves of the palm trees that lined the beach and the bass line of the surprise hit of the summer travelled through the air from the nearby beach bar, and yet all I could hear was Toby. I was oblivious to life going on all around me.

  ‘As soon as Mum told me about you, you were all I could think about. It was weird. And then we started emailing, and texting, and I kept imagining what it would be like when you arrived, how I could take you for a drink or to listen to my set…And now you’re here I can’t find the words to say what I want to.’ He sighed, his eyes staring out towards the distant horizon.

  ‘I was all you could think about?’ I repeated expectantly. My heart pounded rapidly within my chest, thump, thump, thump, as I waited for him to reply. I couldn’t cope if it was one of his jokes.

  ‘It sounds crazy, I know, but…’ He paused and inhaled, and although it was surely only a second, it felt like an eternity, ‘I really like you, Lauren’.

  I was sure his lip wobbled ever so slightly as he waited for my response, and I felt a desperate need to lean in and kiss it.

  ‘It doesn’t sound crazy, I feel the same. You got into my head, and the more I heard about you, the more I liked you. But I thought you’d think it was strange. I’m not a psycho or anything, in fact I haven’t had these feelings for anyone for a long time, and even though we’ve only just met I feel so comfortable around you, and…’

  ‘Chatterbox, can you just shut up for a minute and kiss me?’ he laughed, edging closer.

  I didn’t need asking twice.

  Acknowledgements

  With thanks to my wonderful clique for suggesting the settings for some super sweet ‘meet cute’s’- Amy, Anne, April, Mary and Svenja – you girls shine brighter than Harry’s gold boots. Extra special thanks to Anne for coming up with the series title, and also to Louise who asked for daily updates on my progress whilst writing this series. I can’t imagine not knowing you all. One Direction have a lot to answer for.

  Coming Soon from Katey Lovell …

  Tap the cover to pre-order now.

  Also by Katey Lovell …

  The Boy in the Bookshop

  Katey Lovell

  I grew up in South Wales and now live in Sheffield with my husband David, son Zachary and our friendly moggie Clarence. If I’m not writing, I’ll most likely be found with my nose in a book or reviewing on my blog Books with Bunny.

  www.kateylovell.blogspot.co.uk

  @katey5678

  About HarperImpulse

  HarperImpulse is an exciting new range of romance fiction brought to you from the women’s fiction team at HarperCollins. Our aim is to break new talent from debut authors and import the hottest trends from the US, bringing you the very best in romance. Whether that is through short reads for your mobile phone or epic sagas that span the generations we want to proudly publish romance fiction that gets everybody talking.

  Romance readers, come and meet the team at our website www.harperimpu‌lseromance.com, our Facebook page www.facebook.com/HarperImpulse or follow us @HarperImpulse!

  Writers, we are simply looking for good stories! So, what are you waiting for? To submit, e-mail us at [email protected].

  About the Publisher

  Australia

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  United Kingdom

  HarperCollins Publishers Ltd.

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  Katey Lovell, The Boy at the Beach

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