“It’ll be fine,” he says, waving a dismissive hand. I can’t quite describe the feeling I experience, but the closest I can get to it is – I imagine this is how a wasp feels seconds before it uses its stinger. “Don’tsay that.”
“Say what?”
“That! Don’t be so dismissive of this situation. We need to get on that cruise! Intwohours! It leaves in two hours.” I look away, running a hand through my hair and dropping my bag at my feet. “We’re so screwed.”
I plonk myself down beside Gus and press my face into my hands with a groan. I’m tired, sweaty and aching from sitting on that coach for nearly four gruelling hours and now I’m almost certainly going to miss my dream cruise again.
“We could walk,” Gus suggests.
I laugh at his joke because it’s either that or cry.
“No. Really. It says it’s an hour and thirty minutes’ walk from here to the port of Dubrovnik.”
I look up, squinting at him. His gaze is focused on his screen, so he doesn’t catch me taking in his side profile, loose curls falling over his forehead, that strong manly nose, full lips and prominent triangle in his throat. It happens to be one of my minute attractions in a man. A really good Adam’s apple.
Clearly, I’m having a moment because staring and lusting after a popstar who is used to models and beautiful actresses as his dates when I’m but a lowly randomer is definitely not a helpful use of my time. Albeit a decent distraction.
He turns just in time to stare at me as I realise what I’m doing, and heat rushes up my neck and into my cheeks.Honestly. What am I? A schoolgirl? A rampant Just4Summer fan? Absolutely not.
“Sara?” he asks, blinking.
“Hmm.”
“Did you hear what I said?”
“I did. We could walk.”
He nods. “An hour and a half. It’s two now. When did you say the cut off is?”
I look away, my breathing a bit heavy. I swipe a bug off my clammy skin and clear my throat. “Four.”
“Then this could work. We’ll have thirty minutes to spare.” He jumps to his feet, holding out a hand for me to take. “Let’s go. God knows how long it’ll take to sort the coach. There’s no time to spare. Let’s get you back on that luxury cruise.”
I let him pull me up but don’t immediately race off. Well, because… “I’m in a dress and strappy sandals. You’re hardly dressed much better. And, well, I don’t know. It feels risky.”
He twists his lips, considering. “If you’d rather wait, then we’ll wait.”
But I long for the luxury cabin with the air conditioning and large walk-in shower. I’m desperate to change into new clothes and wash my hair properly. I have a face mask waiting for me on my dressing table. And I can’t do another night sharing a room with Popstar, especially as I’m already embarrassing myself.
I bite my bottom lip and groan. “Ugh. No. You’re right. I’ll suck up the blisters. Come on.”
Ten minutes later we realise this was a terrible idea. The road along the coastline is not designed for walking. Cars rush by, beeping their horns, drivers throwing their handsup at us out of the window because they had to suspend a few seconds of their brain capacity to overtake us without running us over. Poor souls. As they pass, the wind blows dust and sand everywhere. Thankfully, we have sunglasses on to protect our eyes, but my sweaty skin is now layered with dust too and my mouth tastes like I’ve been chewing dried mud.
Good. Fine. Whatever.
Gus pulls out his phone now and again, especially when we reach a layby or a safer section of the road, to look for better routes. But there’s nothing. It’s an hour on this road, then we’re near enough to the city for footpaths all the way up to the port.
“I’ve already got a blister,” Gus informs me up ahead.
“You beat me.”
“I don’t think getting a blister first is a prize I wanted to win.”
“You think we made a bad choice?” I ask.
“Nah. We need to get you back, so, we’ll get you back.”
“Oh. I have plasters if you want one?” I bloody knew they’d come in handy!
