Someonein particular. One spots Austin, and she grabs her friend and points to him as he pulls a drink from the refrigerator and heads toward the checkout.
They hurry to him, speaking fast German as he stops short, blinking at the suddenness of it all. One of them swipes her phone to open her camera, then looks around.
Her eyes fix on me. She hurries over and starts speaking what sounds like rapid gibberish to my uncultured ears. But I get the gist.
I take the phone, and she smiles and thanks me.
“You going to start paying me extra as your official tour photographer?” I ask Austin as the girls cozy up on either side of him.
“I just bought you a candy bar,” he says.
Through the phone screen, I watch as one of the girls places her hand on Austin’s chest.
My gaze shoots to his face, but he doesn’t do anything.
“One, two, three.” I press the button a few times, then hand the phone to the girl.
Once they’ve left, Austin meets my gaze. “What?” he asks.
I open my eyes, wide and innocent. “Nothing.”
He chuckles and starts walking toward me—no, toward the checkout. “Come on, Mia. Just say it.”
“Hey…” I put up my hands and move toward the doors. “It’s none of my business.” Austin Sheppard can have as many strangers’ hands on his chest or as many strangers’ lips on his as he wants. He can declare himself the next Blarney Stone for all I care.
I push open the door and wave over my shoulder. “See you in Venice.”
A text comes in as I reach the tour bus.
Gemma
How’s the tour?
Just kidding. I’ve been stalking you on social media like the good, protective older sister I am, so I already know how it’s going.
Mia
And what’s your assessment?
Gemma
You’re the next big thing.
Mia
What a lovely, unbiased report.
Gemma
How’s it been, though, really? Are you glad you said yes? How have your hiccups been? Is Austin as bad as you thought he’d be?
Mia
Amazing. Yes. Annoying. No comment.
Gemma
You’re the worst. I demand comment. Is that a falling-in-love-with-him no comment? Or an I’m-about-to-strangle-him no comment?
