His eyes dance under the glow of the festoon lights hanging above our heads. ‘She’s a manga character.’
‘You think I look like acartooncharacter?’ I ask with faux outrage.
‘Well, no.’ He frowns, but his lips continue to curve upwards at the corners. ‘More like a comic-book character.’
‘Is there a difference?’
‘Yeah. My friend Taran used to be into manga. He could have talked your ear off about it.’
‘Is this the same friend who likes fantasy?’
‘The very same,’ he confirms with a nod and a small smile.
‘You know you’re going to have to show me this character you’re talking about, don’t you?’
I’m trying to sound flippant, but I’m still feeling a bit jittery about his earlier comment:he can’t stop looking at me!
He shrugs. ‘I don’t have a phone, so I can’t look her up.’
‘Ah, butIdo.’ I get it out and unlock it before passing it to him.
He smirks as he taps something into the search engine and scrolls for a moment before handing it back.
I stare at the character on the screen. She has flame-red hair with golden highlights, huge blue eyes framed by long dark lashes and a pointed chin that is almost pixie-like. She’s stunning.
I glance up at him.Is this how he sees me?
‘Okaaay,’ I say with a laugh, screenshotting the image.
We meet each other’s eyes again, just as the bartender finally materialises to take our order. My every nerve ending is on alert.
As Ash turns towards the bar, I become aware of just how hemmed in we are, how many people suddenly seem to be clamouring for space. A trickle of panic starts below my ribcage as someone presses against me from behind. I go rigid. I can’t see his face, but I know it’s a man.
Ash looks over his shoulder at me and freezes. ‘What’s wrong? Hey, can you back up?’ he asks sharply, looking over the top of my head at whoever is crowding me.
‘Where am I supposed to go?’ I hear a deep voice retort.
I come to life, making a break for it. There’s a group of potted palms and tree ferns by the railings and I head straight for them through the crowd.
‘Sorry,’ I gasp as Ash joins me.
‘Are you all right?’ he asks, touching his hand to my lower back.
I flinch and he immediately retreats, which makes me feel even more wretched.
‘I just got a bit claustrophobic,’ I try to explain, struggling to catch my breath.
‘Do you want to leave?’ he asks.
I nod. ‘But we need to pay for our drinks,’ I say weakly.
‘I’m sure they’ll give them to someone else.’
‘I’m going to head back to the hostel, but you don’t have to come.’
He scoffs. ‘Fuck that. I’m walking you back.’
My stomach warms at his protectiveness, but I point out: ‘I’ve been backpacking around Europe on my own for almost three weeks.’
