Gus smirks. “What are you doing?”
I drop my shoulders. “What? It’s how I think when I’m stressed.”
“Hear me out.” He waits for me to look at him, so I finally allow myself to.Whoops, there goes my stomach.“We’ll find a place to stay tonight and make a plan. You’ll be able to charge your phone so we have money and ways to get to Dubrovnik, and then we can sleep, eat, and rest so we’re in the right frame of mind to sort ourselves out tomorrow.”
I blink. “That was a weirdly sensible solution.”
“Thank you?”
“Fine. How do we find somewhere with two rooms to spare on short notice in peak season?”
“You’re once again forgetting I have access to the internet.”
I follow him to a bench by a small park, where he sits and types into his phone. I do not enjoy being at the mercy of an unknown man. It’s like allowing a child to pick out your outfit for an important meeting.
Ok, so he’s an adult. Yeah, yeah. But he’s also a popstar and it sounds like he’s not used to running his own life.
After five minutes of people watching of what I can only assume is rush hour in Croatia, he clears his throat. “Ok, there’s a place in the Old Town which could work.”
“Won’t that be really expensive?”
“Apparently not. It only accepts cash. It doesn’t have a website. It’s just recommended on this travel blogger site for cash-strapped backpackers.”
“That sounds dodgy.”
“It’s a family run BnB apparently. This guy says he uses it whenever he’s in Split and they rely on word of mouth.”
I sigh, closing my eyes. “This feels so surreal. I don’t even know you.”
“Ah, but you knowofme.”
“Right. But I don’t knowyou. And I really only knewofyou a few days ago,” I remind him. “What if you’re a total creep?”
He scoffs. “You can google me if you want,” he says, offering me his device. I don’t take it. I’ve already done my research. “The only stories you’ll find about me being ‘creepy’ are fanfiction. And in all of those,” he says, grinning proudly, “they actively encourage it.”
I make an unimpressed face. As a teenager,Twilightfanfiction filled an Edward-Cullen shaped void for many years in between film releases and rereads of my battered, overread books. So, I can’t exactly judge him – but… “Hold on, you read fanfiction aboutyourself?”
He shrugs. “Some of it is really good.”
“But it’s aboutyou!”
“Yeah. And it’s funny. And kind of hot.”
“What?” I bark out a laugh.
“I’m not saying I… er, you know…”
I do know, but I’m not going to make this easy for him. Making men squirm is one of my favourite hobbies. I tilt my head thoughtfully. “No? Do explain.”
His lips do that thing again, like he’s trying not to smilebut they’re betraying him. “What I’m saying, is I liked reading about myself through fiction. It’s a weirdly good escape. They make me someone I’m not. Usually better. Sometimes worse. Nearly always less boring. And sometimes I send my sister screenshots to wind her up.”
His eyes catch on mine, and I look away just as fast. “You have a sister?” I actually did learn this in my research, but I don’t want him to know that. Besides, I’d like to hear his side of things.
“You’re not very online, are you?”
“I’m usually working. I don’t have time for apps. I’m barely on Instagram.”
“Yeah. Figures. You’d have heard of my sister if you were.” We fall into silence, and I readjust my legs before forcing myself to look at him. He’s staring at me, expectantly.
