She smiles wryly. “Women guests,” she explains. “Girlfriends from past.”
I bite my bottom lip and nod at her politeness. I could be severely weirded out right now (and probably should be?!) but as Gus said earlier, when in Rome.
Aline shows me where to forage makeup, hair styling tools and whatever I might need to smarten up. I pinch a brand-new razor and head to the shower, hanging my borrowed dress on the back of my door.
An hour later, I take the main stairs down to meet Gus, hoping he knows where we’re going. I spot him first, the white shirt a little long on him and buttoned low but, somehow, he makes it work, especially with the dark trousers he’s rolled up at the ankles. When he hears my footsteps, he does a double take, his eyes landing on my waist, then lower to the split, the tease of my thigh.
His reaction sends a thrill right through me. I really wish I would stop reacting this way to him. I keep telling myself that he’s a popstar and our worlds do not mesh. Once we’re back on the cruise, or back to real life, there’s nothing here that can last. It’s not plausible. It’s not sensible.
Whose to say I’ll ever be able to trust again after everything that happened with Mike?
If only my stomach wasn’t jittery every time he looked my way. Especially since he’s been looking plenty. I’m practically high on the feeling at this point.
He finally corrects himself, clearing his throat and smiling. “You look…”
“Is it ok?” I interrupt. “Not too much? I can wear something else, there were—”
“No, no, don’t change, it’s—” I don’t know why but I don’t want him to finish the sentence.
I point at his suit. “You look smart.”
It’s awkward. I can tell by the press of his lips and the telling glint in his eyes, that he too, thinks I’m being supremely weird about this.
The problem is a compliment from him, right now, would hold too much weight. Which is ridiculous because I never felt like that with Mike but, then again, when was the last time Mike complimented me? I can’t honestly remember. I’m not the type of person who needs words of affirmation because if nothing else, they don’t feel true. So, in fear of his words installing some kind of panic in me, I drive them away.
He blinks down at himself, presses his lips together in thought, then gestures towards the door. “Shall we?”
It’s still light out, but the sun is dropping fast, the city immersed in an orange glow, sharp shadows at every corner. I’m thankful for the slit in my dress, allowing me to straddle the Vespa, as I hang onto Gus, confidently navigating the busy streets towards our destination. My hair beneath my helmet rustles in the breeze.
Fifteen minutes later, he parks us down a narrow street between tall, light-coloured buildings and immediately swaps his helmet for his black cap and sunglasses. He anxiously glances around before taking my hand (an act that’s beginning to feel like it’s second nature) and guiding me towards the promise of music and good food.
As we turn another corner, we’re greeted by a rich aroma of Italian cuisine, fairy lights hung between buildings in a small closed off courtyard with tables and awnings. “Have you been here before?” I ask, since he strides in so purposefully.
He slows a touch, glancing over his shoulder. “Oh yeah.This is one of Cole’s haunts. He’s related to the owner, second cousin or something like that. Hence the hat and shades, in case you were wondering. I’d prefer not to be spotted.”
I check the surroundings for prying eyes.
“Don’t worry,” he adds, squeezing my hand. “We’ll have a spot out the back.”
As soon as we enter the main restaurant a man shouts, “AUGUSTUS!” I almost jump out of my skin but Gus laughs, patting the man on the back and pointing towards a set of stripped curtains behind the bar.
“Sì, sì. I bring you and your beautiful woman drinks right away.”
I look at Gus, waiting pointlessly for him to correct this eccentric man but he just smiles, nods and heads towards the curtains, towing me with him. The delectable waft of garlic, basil and onions has my tastebuds watering.
It’s not until we emerge from the other side that I feel a sudden wave of nerves. This is it. I – Sara Stirling – am about to have dinner in Rome with a world-famous superstar… and Gus (also world-famous but arguably less cool).
It’s absurd. I’m almost lightheaded.
The balcony is a decently sized, private space overlooking a busy roundabout below, surrounded by ancient buildings and beautiful roman architecture. Bougainvillea hangs almost romantically from the floor above and candles are burning on the table set for four.
I almost stumble when I spot Cole and his date.
Gus halts too, blinking. “For fuck’s sake,” he grumbles, eyeing the blonde woman. “Really?Must you turn up everywhere I go?”
The woman, who is absolutely gorgeous, beams at Gus. She stands up to greet us and Gus turns on his heel.
I’m having one of those high-stress, out of body experiences – this will be an ex, or former lover, or something that complicates the feelings I shouldn’t even have for this man and just reinforces the fact that this weird little crush (if we’re calling it that!) is wholly delusional and entirely misplaced – I don’t want to hear the next part because, honestly? I’ve been enjoying this whole adventure, this daydream.
