Petrichor - A sweet smell that is produced after rain falls on parched ground

I saw her first.

At least, I'm almost sure I did.

The reason escapes me as to what made my gaze linger on her for longer than it usually would - women haven't ever exactly been my thing. Not really. I mean, yeah, sure, I've looked at them before and been able to appreciate and admire their beauty, but with her it was more than that. It was different. I was instantaneously captivated by her.

This woman, whoever she is, caught my eye from the other side of the pool. Walking close to the edge with her friend. Square, black rimmed glasses framing her eyes and laughing at whatever that friend of hers was saying. The black of her bikini matched her raven hair, contrasting perfectly with the pale of her milky white skin, and I was almost positive I could make out some sort of large tattoo on her thigh, through the sheer material she had wrapped around her waist.

I wondered what it was. I wondered what it looked like up close. I wondered if I'd ever have the confidence to pull off a tattoo like that.

Not that I don't have confidence. I do. I know that my blonde hair and slender figure make me desirable. Ever since high school I've had men chasing me. I know I look good. Adorable, even. That's what I've been told. It's a timid confidence, however - a shy kind.

But this girl… she oozes confidence. Every fibre of her screams it.

It's in the way she walks, tall and with purpose. It's in the way she runs her hand through her hair and the way she wears that shockingly red lipstick so fucking well. The way she puts a possessive arm over her friend's shoulder…

Shit. That must be her girlfriend.

My gut clenched and I couldn't explain why. It was a feeling I recognised but didn't expect to feel right now. I was jealous. Jealous of a woman I didn't know being close to another girl I didn't know. It was completely preposterous, and yet the jealousy was very, very real.

Only when her path along the edge of the clear blue swimming pool took her almost directly opposite me, did she glance in my direction. My stomach flipped as our eyes locked. A corner of her mouth curled into the smallest of smiles and I felt heat rush to my cheeks. It burned. Not just my face but that look she gave me. It forced me to look away. I couldn't hold it, but I could still feel that burn still on me. Lying there in my tiny bikini, I suddenly felt exposed. Vulnerable.

When I looked back she was almost at the other end of the pool. Arm no longer around her partner but her partner's now hanging loosely at her waist.

Lucky bitch.

If I'd said that out loud my best friend, Polly, soaking up the Mexican sun in the lounger next to me, would be as surprised to hear it as I was at thinking it.

My gaze flutters up to her long wavy hair and the way it sways against her pale back as she walks. I didn't realise I was staring until she flipped her head around and her eyes were on mine again. A wide smile spread over her face. Like she enjoyed that she'd caught me staring at her. Again.

Fuck!

Once more that heat rose to my cheeks and I quickly averted my eyes. Embarrassed.

And then she was gone. Through the crowd of sunbathers, past the pool bar and through the doors to the hotel.

Disappointment eased through me. Slowly. Unsure if it should even be there at all. Why should I be disappointed? What was I expecting to happen? What did I want to happen?

Fuck if I know. All I know is that girl sparked something in me - something deep, something I wasn't sure existed - and I don't think I'll ever see her again.

"Piper!"

The bark with which my best friend said my name snapped my attention to her.

"What the fuck? I said your name like three times."

I shrugged and lay back against the cushion of the sun lounger, sliding the sunglasses from the top of my head on to my face. "I was daydreaming."

"Whatever. I'm going to the bar, what do you want?"

"The bar? It's not even noon!"

"We're on vacation, Pipes. All day drinking is expected. In fact, it's recommended."

I couldn't help but laugh, "Oh yeah? By who?"

"By me! 'When in Rome' and all that. We're in fucking Cancun! If we aren't getting drunk then what's the fucking point in being here!"

She had a point.

"I'll have a margarita."

Days passed, and I could say that the mysterious girl I'd seen at the pool never crossed my mind again, but I'd be lying. I'd love to say that I didn't put a little more thought into what I wore to the pool and apply just a little more make-up on the slight, minuscule chance that she might cross my path again, or that I didn't look out for her on every trip to the bar, or every visit to the beach or every walk in the city - but I can't.

Which is stupid because, well, frankly, I'm not a lesbian. It doesn't make sense to me that I'd want to look hot just in case I saw her, because it's not like I'd ever want to.. you know, be with her.

I like guys. I've always liked guys. Since my N'Sync loving days, where shirtless posters of Justin Timberlake hung proudly on my bedroom wall, to now, where I have a boyfriend who I'm not only attracted to - I love.

Well at least I think I do… Maybe.

It's always been that way. Not once have I ever imagined being with a girl. It's just not my thing…

So why does this woman keep forcing her way into my head? Why can't I stop looking out for her, wondering what her name is and where it is she comes from? Why do I think so much about a girl I've never even met? Even Polly has noticed I've been distracted, and no matter how hard I try to tell her it's because I'm missing my boyfriend back home, she knows me too well to believe it.

It's as I'm walking on the beach one night by myself, right at the shore so the tide rises just enough to wash over my feet, with my heels dangling from one hand and an almost empty bottle of white wine in the other, thinking of her, thinking about how the sight of her in that black bikini made me feel, that I see her.

And this time she's alone, too. Legs crossed in the sand and eyes focused on a book in her lap. My heart stills as I'm about to pass her, unsure if I wanted her to look up and notice me or to quietly turn back before she does, and then, just like that, she becomes aware of someone around her and looks up.

A note of recognition sparks in her eyes and a smirk crawls over her lips as she closes her book and slides her glasses back on her head.

"Well, hey, you ."