Water droplets run off my body as I climb my way back up the stern of the boat. Whilst I’ve been taking a dip in the perfect Italian waters, you’ve been reading and sunbathing on the yachts deck.

I sink down beside you, disrupting your peace as I lower the book in your hands. Leaning in, I place a kiss on your lips, letting the excess water drop from me onto your tanned skin. You laugh and push me away, muttering something about ‘getting you wet’.

But that’s when I hear it. You’ve said it’s my spidey sense, but I say it’s the aftermath of being in the public eye for as long as I have. You can spot, hear, and catch a camera shutter from anywhere.

You and I have been trying to keep our relationship private. We don’t want the medias input, since they always seem to always have one. But you’re different.

You don’t have a public presence at all. You’re not a model, a musician, or anything that has to do with the industry I’m in. The internet doesn’t know a single thing about you, and we’d like to keep it that way.

Especially since, well… Since you’re only 21. Not sure how the internet would perceive me, a 28 year old, being with you. Cause, Lord knows, they’ve had something to say about the previous age differences in my relationships.

I immediately cover you with my body, trying to shield you from any possible pictures being taken.

“That’s just fucking great,” I grumble, reaching out for the towel beside you to wrap you up in it. I quickly get us up and move us inside, and you’re already on your phone, checking for the evidence. I have no doubt the internet sleuths have found you already.

I come up behind you as you scroll through your phone, wrapping my arms around your waist. From just the quick glance at your screen, I spot so-called ‘fans’ already speaking their minds. I snatch your phone and toss it on the small couch.

“Don’t pay attention to it. They’re all just miserable people… I don’t care what they have to say. I’m happy, that’s all that matters.” I press a kiss to your bare shoulder.