“No. Let’s just keep going.”
We navigate the busy road, trying not to become roadkill and taking occasional breaks for foot resting. I can already feel my ankles swelling. Sometimes they do this in the heat, so adding intense walking into the mix, almost definitely won’t help. There’s a reason I don’t run anywhere.
We’re about thirty-five minutes into our gruelling hike when a louder horn blares for us to move out the way. Before I know what’s going on, I find myself pinned against Gus,as he uses his own large torso as a human shield, pressing me against the cliff edge, wrapping around the road. I can feel my heartbeat pulsing in my neck. I can’t tell if it’s from the adrenaline of nearly being hit by a massive vehicle or because he’s holding me like some kind of furious alpha cowboy from one of Hattie’s smutty romance novels.
It whooshes past us, the skirt of my dress rustling around Gus’s legs.
He softens his hold once it’s passed and looks me over, his face so close to mine I have to swallow to right myself. “Are you ok?”
“Fine,” I squeak, which…Sara, you need to get a grip.I clear my throat and step fully out of his hold. “I’m fine. That was a totally unnecessary reaction. I was fine. I had loads of room. And…oh no.” I stare wide eyed at the road ahead of us.
“What?” is his breathless reply, hands on his hips.
I point. “Is that our bloody coach?!”
Gus stares in that direction now too, his lips falling apart in disbelief. “You’rejoking.” He takes off sprinting, waving his arms like they might see him and stop for us. He looks incredibly gallant chasing after the bus, it’s actually kind of sexy. Again, I think about Hattie’s fictional cowboy boyfriends she frequently updates me on.
I need an ice-cold drink and a fan. Maybe a dip in the sea.
I blame the heat. Yeah. Must be that.
“Gus!” I yell at his retreating figure. “They’re not coming back. It’s no use.”
Ok and now I’m starting to sound like a damsel in distress. It’s the corner for me as soon as I’m back on thatdamn boat. Time out for at least a solid twenty minutes until I sound like myself again.
He evidently agrees as he stops, dropping his arms at his sides. “Fuck!”
I take this pause to pull the t-shirt off and stuff it back in my bag, adding a plaster to my heels and offering Gus one too, who once again refuses.
ElevenCruise Location – DubrovnikNext Port – KotorTime of Departure – 16:00 (GMT+1)
“All we can do is keep walking,” I say once I’ve caught him up, panting. It’s an obvious statement, of course, but it feels required. “And quickly.” The ache in the balls of my feet are burning, the blister on the back of my heels are raw and my ankles have weakened to the point it feels like my legs and feet are connected by some of kind of spongy material.
But we have no other options.
Neither of us have signal yet to call for a taxi or any kind of help.
In hindsight, I’m smarter than this.
This was a rash decision. I’m blaming it on Popstar.
And so, we walk, walk, walk until the city skyline starts to come into view, boats and ships appear on the horizon out on the peacefully, choppy sea. The sky is spotless, the sun so bright it turns my vision golden and speckled whenever I look up.
“You know, I’m sort of gutted I won’t get to see Dubrovnik. It was one of my highlights for this trip,” I tell Gus, head down, trying not to trip on one of the loose, fallen rocks at the side of the road.
He hums in agreement. “Yeah. Me too,” he says. “If I tell you I’m aStar Warsfanatic, will you be mean to me?”
“No,” I say. “I reserve judgement for people with a lack of interests.”
Something about this statement makes him laugh. “Star Warswas pretty much the only thing my dad and I had in common growing up. And more recently too. Trying to get back into his life was easier with the lure ofStar WarsPremiere tickets. Perks of being famous, I guess.”
“What, like, the actual red-carpet events?”
“Yeah. Dad always went right in, and I’d do a circuit in exchange for tickets. But nobody really cared that I was there because I wasn’t in it.”
“So, you mostly did it to see your dad?”
“Yeah. He can be tricky. He’s a countryman. Likes his garden and walks through fields but I rarely get home these days, so I wasn’t seeing much of him. He doesn’t really understand the whole music thing. He’s never even been to one of my concerts.”
