Gus gives me a look. “There’s no way you don’t know that was fake merch.”
“Is that why you got all offended? Because you won’t get your tiny cut in the sale?”
He makes a tutting sound. “Please. Big of you to assume I get anything from merchandise with my face on it.”
I wait for him to put his rubbish, flimsy disguise on before we board the coach. By the looks of it, it’s mostly full of hungover backpackers and tired travellers. I doubt they’re going to have any interest in Gus.
I allow him the window seat to tuck himself away out of sight from the other passengers and must end up falling asleep because the next thing I know he’s nudging me awake with his elbow.
“Hey, sunshine,” he whispers. “You’re snoring and attracting attention.”
I sit bolt upright, glancing around to see one girl, a bit younger than me, quickly turn away. A fresh panic rushes through me. If I’m snoring, then I’m probably dreaming, which means… I shake myself out of it.
“I don’t snore,” I tell him.
“Ok. Sure. Then you bark in your sleep.”
“I do not,” I whisper back at him.
“I wouldn’t have woken you, except I’m trying to keep a low profile here and you’re rattling the coach chassis.”
I frown. “Thisis why I don’t share rooms.”
“Because you snore?”
I stare at him for a moment, scrutinising his expression. When I don’t look away, he raises an eyebrow.
I sigh. “Notjustbecause I snore, but a little bit that, yes.”
“I see. Was it because of the sleep talking?”
I tense all over, clenching my hands into fists. Gus’s eyes drop to my hands, and he takes a deep breath.
“I’m just messing with you, Sara. It’s all good. I wokeyou before people started to notice.” I breathe the tension out of my body slowly and blink back the pressure behind my eyes. I’m good at pushing emotions back, I’ve had plenty of practice. It’s just there’s nothing attractive about a twenty-nine-year-old woman who cries out for her mum in her sleep.
“Don’t let me sleep again, please.”
We share a moment of prolonged eye contact, his light brown irises almost golden in daylight. I feel a rush of energy sprint down my spine. “I’m sorry,” he says even quieter. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”
“No, it’s… Thank you for waking me. Please don’t let me snore again.”
He presses his lips together, a notch forming between his brows. He doesn’t say anymore but gives me one solid nod instead.
The journey moves slowly. I half expected to be on a wild coach trip like that one time Hattie and I went clubbing in Malia and nearly died twice on the shuttle from the airport to our hotel, the driver running stop signs and letting its back wheels hang over the edge of sheer drops. At least that driver would get us to Dubrovnik with plenty of time to spare. It’s bad enough, I’ve resigned myself to seeing very little of the city, now I must be on the most sluggish coach journey of my life just to rub it in.
About two hours into the drive, the coach pulls into the one and only stop between the cities. A small town on the main road along the coast of Croatia. The driver hops out of the coach and stands there for a few moments smoking a cigarette.
Fine. We all need breaks, I suppose.
But then, a taxi shows up and he gets in. I watch it leave, flying back the way we came.
Oh, so now he can go fast!
Are we being stranded here? I let out a strangled laughed.
The main door to the coach has been left wide open and some of the passengers have gotten out to stretch their legs, far too relaxed about this. I leave Gus and head outside. He doesn’t ask after me, but once I’m on the tarmac, I peek back to see him watching me curiously through the darkened window.
“Hi,” I say to a young blonde woman wearing a baggy white Nike t-shirt, her hair pulled into a long, high ponytail. “Do you speak English?”
