Chapter Nine
“Why did you thank the woman for saying we looked like a nice couple?” I ask, frowning at Gus. “No wonder they’ve put us in a shared room. There’s only one bed for fuck sakes!”
“It’s for fuck’s sake.”
“And? It literally doesn’t matter. What matters is the fact we only have one room.”
“I’ll sleep in the hall if you’d prefer.”
“Fine,” I say, nodding. That is an acceptable solution.
He scoffs, but his eyes are alight with humour. “You’d totally let me sleep out in the hall, wouldn’t you? What if that doll in the window murders me?”
“Then I’d say you shouldn’t have missed your cruise.”
“You’re incredibly mean.”
I roll my eyes. “Please. I’m realistic. Besides, I’m a single woman travelling alone. You can’t just impose yourself on me. What’s to say you didn’t hold back on purpose?”
Gus bites his bottom lip as he places his sunglasses on a side table with a tile decoration on top. “I’m pretty sure you trust me already. If you didn’t, you wouldn’t have agreed to let me join you.”
I twist my lips, because for some reason they’re attempting a smile. I would hate for him to think I’m relaxed in his presence. It would ruin my whole argument and I’m not ready to admit defeat yet. “Why did you miss the cruise anyway?”
“I kept checking this phone because I thought it automatically updated. But unfortunately, it’s a piece of shit that’s stuck on London time. So, I was an hour behind schedule.”
“Why didn’t you use the clocks in the city?”
“I thought I was being clever.”
“Wow.”
“Yes. I see now that I was being the opposite of that.”
I sigh, raising my arms. “Well, I decided to forego the tour and wander alone, lost track of time and didn’t realise my phone was practically bleeding to death in my bag. So, I didn’t get the cruise updates.”
“I probably did. But those messages went to the phone hidden under my pillow.”
“Aren’t your team going to grow suspicious if your phone never moves?”
Gus shrugs. “Probably. But for all they know, I’m leaving it in my room on purpose. And technically, it is moving.”
“You really care about doing this alone, don’t you?” His expression sobers before he clears his throat. He looks away, running his thumb and forefinger down his nose. I’ve seen him do that before – maybe it’s his giveaway.
“I’ve felt very hemmed in for the past twelve years.
We formed the band when we were still kids and although we aged with it, the team still had a way of handling us like children.
They don’t literally lock us in our hotel rooms anymore, but they still treat us like prized assets.
I just want to pretend for a moment that I’m a normal twenty-eight-year-old man. ”
“And not a giant baby?”
His smile bounces back. “Exactly.”
I take a moment to examine the room. It’s… cosy. But it’s clean and there’s a plug in the wall by my bed. I practically launch myself at it, taking the charger out of the packaging and plugging my phone in.
“You know, we’re lucky this charger only cost me ten euros, otherwise we might not have even had enough for this room.”
“So, what you’re saying is you have ten euros left to buy food?”
“No, I didn’t say that. We need to keep every penny we have just in case. And although I’ll have my phone to pay soon. I haven’t tried it abroad yet. What if it doesn’t work?”
“Right,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. He looks around like he’s trying to find a place to set up. He settles on a part of the tiled floor closest to the window, where a slight breeze blows in. As he sits, I hear a grumbling sound. He rolls his head back, pinching his eyes closed.
There’s no doubt that was his stomach but the fact he isn’t saying so and is deliberately choosing to suffer in silence, only betrayed by his own anatomy, layers me in a whole new level of guilt.
Dammit. Besides, I can’t deny I’m also a little peckish. I tap my phone screen but it’s still dead. It dawns on me that I’m also starving, and waiting for the phone to charge might take a while.
“What would ten euros even get you around here anyway?”
Gus opens his eyes, his expression cautious. “Probably pizza.”
*
As I take the first bite of cheap, cheesy pizza, I’m grateful that we had ten euros left over.
It only afforded us two large slices each but it’s enough to sustain.
The mozzarella stretches and falls down my chin.
I moan in satisfaction as the rich, tangy tomato sauce overwhelms my tastebuds.
Gus is back in his spot, camped out on the floor below the window, his curls ruffling in the breeze.
“Good?” he asks, grinning at me with his mouth full.
“So good. Damn.”
“How’s your phone?” he asks.
“She’s coming back to life.”
“Good.”
“Actually, I booked two tickets on a coach to Dubrovnik that leaves in the morning.”
Gus manages to drag all the cheese off his next slice and takes a minute to right himself. “Fuck. That’s hot. Sorry. What did you say?”
“I booked us a coach.” Thankfully I could book it online using my payment app.
Although, upon checking my account, with my savings pillaged, I barely have five hundred quid left before payday, which is still a fortnight away and my credit cards are virtually maxed out thanks to my non-existent wedding.
“Wow. You’ve booked for me too?”
I shrug, choosing not to make it a big deal. “I felt sorry for you.”
He laughs, short and sharp. “I am but a pauper’s son.”
“I mean, I assume you’ll pay me back at some point?”
“Absolutely. I thought that was a given. Of course, I’ll pay you back, plus interest.”
I scoff. “That’s completely unnecessary. I just need you to pay for you, that’s all.”
“At least 50 per cent interest on top – minimum,” he mumbles.
“No,” I say, taking another bite full of pizza.
“Fine. One hundred per cent.”
“That’s literally not how you negotiate.”
“No, really?” he asks, but I can tell he’s messing with me. “Let’s say two hundred per cent and call it quits.”
I sit taller, frowning. I’m so onto him.
I hate the thought of owing people. I don’t want his money.
It’s why I’ve always worked myself to the bone.
It’s this innate need to be able to stand on my own two feet and support my family if I need to.
The thought of this man paying for me once he has access to his money again and more, lots more, doesn’t sit well with me at all.
“What’s in it for you?” I ask, narrowing my eyes at him.
He makes a semi-outraged face like the answer is obvious. “You’re saving me from being outed to my team? You’re paying for me to travel with you out of your own bank account? You’re being sort of nice to me?”
“I’m not being nice to you,” I say, but saying it out loud seems so silly I have to muffle a laugh.
He grins. “I stand corrected.”
I swallow thickly, a ball of anxiety settling in my stomach. “I don’t need your money. I don’t want it. I just want you to fund your part.”
He chews on his bottom lip, watching me curiously. “I feel like what I’m asking you to do is actually quite a big ask. I’d like to pay you more than you’re spending.”
“Why’s it a big ask?”
“Because I’m…” He sighs, glancing away. “I’m going to sound like Ron from Anchorman.”
“You’re kind of a big deal?”
He laughs. “Well, yeah.”
“Ok, well, sorry to sound like a broken record, but I’d hardly heard of you until a few days ago and I’m sure most of Croatia are in the same boat.”
“What a metaphor to apply to this situation.”
“Can you be serious?”
“Not really, no.”
“Oh my God,” I squeal, before realising I sound like I’m flirting. Am I flirting? Absolutely not. Don’t be ridiculous. I clear my throat. “You’re quite annoying.”
“Hey, I got us pizza! Surely that’s worth some brownie points?”
“With my money.”
“Which I’m going to pay you back at two hundred and fifty per cent interest.”
“No, you’re not!”
He laughs while trying to chew on another bite.
“All I’m saying is there is a risk you’re seen with me, and my fans make you an unhealthy obsession.
It’s why I don’t usually date normies. Easier if they already know exactly who the person is.
Worst case, they get some PR out of it. Best case, it raises their profile. ”
“Normies.” The word sounds so derogative.
He scrunches his face. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I just mean, it’s easier for people who are already in the spotlight. You know?”
“Why, what would they do to me?”
“Well,” he takes a second to chew before continuing, “they’d probably just find out who you are, where you’re from, who your family is, what your hobbies are, national insurance number… That sort of thing.”
I don’t know why I find this funny but I do. “You’re joking.”
“I wish I was.”
I sigh. “Well then. Enjoy travelling to Dubrovnik alone. Count me out.”
His eyes widen. “I’m not selling it very well. You also get great company?”
“Is someone else joining us?” He doesn’t even fight his smile this time, instead he stomps his feet and bursts out laughing.
“Buuuuuurn. Oh, you’re so mean. Stop it, or I might fall in love with you.”
“Shut. Up. Right, you can definitely sleep in the hall.”
“No. I’m sorry. I take it back,” he says, straight-faced, swallowing another laugh. “I’m going to be good now, I promise. Shall we talk about something more sensible?”
“Maybe we could be silent?”
He takes another bite of pizza and chews quietly for about five seconds before saying, “Nah. I’m not adept at silence. Tell me why you’re cruising the Med all alone. That’s ballsy.”
I stare at the ceiling as a seed of betrayal grows more branches and punches me in the heart.
“I just wanted to travel in style. I don’t get much time off work.
Even when I’m off, I’m not really. This time though, it was different.
I logged out and told my boss I wouldn’t be checking in.
Probably the first time since I started there that I’ve actually switched off. ”
He eyes me. “What’s different this time?” Nope. Not answering that. I don’t need to get into personal details with this man. I change the conversation.