New Feelings in Portugal
The Algarve sun warmed Sarah’s face as she traced patterns in the sand with her toes, the rhythmic crash of the waves was a soothing balm to her ever-present anxiety; this holiday to Portugal was supposed to be a break, a chance to recharge before diving back into the soul-crushing monotony of her London office job – Instead it had become something…more.
It was Íris; Of course it was Íris.
Sarah sighed, raking a hand through her long, raven-dark hair. She knew she looked young, almost ethereal; her angelic appearance had always been a double-edged sword, it charmed, certainly, but it also attracted a certain type of man; the kind who saw her as delicate, needing protection, or worse, as a blank canvas for their fantasies.
She was so used to the predictable, almost childish nature of their affections that genuine connection often felt like a foreign language.
Then she met Íris.
Íris was sunshine personified; with her infectious laugh, her boundless energy, and her obvious love for her homeland, she was a whirlwind of warmth – Sarah met her at a small, family-run restaurant tucked away in a cobbled alleyway in Lagos; Íris, noticing Sarah’s hesitant attempts to order in broken Portuguese, had intervened, translating with a smile that could melt glaciers; they’d been inseparable ever since.
Now, a week later, Sarah found herself hopelessly, and somewhat helplessly, drawn to her new friend, it wasn’t just Íris’s sun-kissed skin or the way her dark eyes sparkled when she talked about the best surfing spots
It was her genuine curiosity, her sharp wit, and the way she seemed to see past Sarah’s perceived innocence, recognizing the quiet strength that Sarah herself often doubted.
Íris was everything Sarah wasn’t: confident, adventurous, and unapologetically herself; and yet, Íris had made her feel seen, understood, and…safe.
“Lost in thought?” Íris’s voice, laced with amusement, broke through Sarah’s distracted mind; she sat down beside her on the sand, the setting sun painting streaks of gold across her face
Sarah blushed, heat rising in her cheeks “Just…, admiring the view.”
Íris followed her gaze, taking in the dramatic cliffs and the vast expanse of the Atlantic “It is beautiful, isn’t it?, But Lagos is only the beginning. You should see the Douro Valley; Or the Peneda-Gerês National Park, Portugal has so much to offer.”
“Maybe…, maybe I should come back,” Sarah stammered, the words tumbling out before she could stop them
Íris grinned, a flash of white teeth against her tanned skin “You would be very welcome” She paused, her gaze softening. “You know, Sarah, you seem…different since you arrived; More relaxed, more…, yourself.”
Sarah averted her eyes, picking at a loose thread on her sundress “I guess I am; It’s been nice to escape everything for a while”
“Escape is good,” Íris agreed “But don’t forget to bring what you find back with you”
The silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken words, Sarah desperately wanted to tell Íris how she felt, to confess the dizzying effect she had on her; But the fear of rejection, of ruining their friendship, held her back – What if she misread everything? What if Íris didn’t feel the same way?
Unbeknownst to Sarah, Íris was acutely aware of the butterflies fluttering in Sarah’s stomach, She saw the way Sarah’s eyes lingered on her, the almost imperceptible blush that crept up her neck whenever they touched; Íris had navigated these waters before, She recognized the signs, the hesitant glances, the unspoken longing.
Íris found it endearing; The British girl, with her delicate features and her quiet vulnerability, was a breath of fresh air – Íris appreciated Sarah’s gentle spirit, her genuine kindness, and the way she listened with such rapt attention.
But Íris also knew that Sarah needed to find her own courage, to articulate her feelings in her own time.
So, Íris waited; Patiently, Offering subtle encouragement, creating opportunities for connection, but never pushing, never pressuring; She knew that true affection couldn’t be forced – It had to blossom organically, nurtured by trust and mutual respect.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and purple, Íris stood up, offering Sarah her hand. “Come on” she said, her voice warm and inviting, “I know a place with the best seafood in town”
Sarah took her hand, feeling a jolt of electricity pass through her; Maybe, just maybe, she was brave enough to take a leap of faith
Maybe, just maybe, this holiday romance could turn into something real.
As they walked hand-in-hand towards the twinkling lights of Lagos, Sarah knew one thing for sure: she was falling in love with Íris; and she knew, with a quiet certainty, that Íris was giving her the space, and the grace, to find the words to say it.
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