Chapter 14
CALLUM
Grand, now she has me smiling. It’s not enough that I have to share my tour with an attractive, spineless hedonist, now she’s affecting me in ways I don’t like. In ways that irritate me.
“We’re walking you to your rooms and depositing you to your parents,” I say sternly to the teens walking behind us. I try not to think of all the nights I snuck out to get up to shenanigans like these two, because that would really make me the hypocrite I admitted to being moments ago.
“Yeah, what he said,” Asha says. In what I’m sure she thinks is a stern tone.
I share a look with the teens, agreeing with them for once tonight. The Wee Sunshine is not convincing in her role as authoritarian. But she is trying, so I should not mock her for it.
But damn, is it hard.
We drop the children off at their rooms, making sure the doors are closed before walking to our own rooms, which are next to each other.
“I’m glad you were around to control teenage hormones so I didn’t have to do it alone,” she says, digging through her backpack for her key.
She pulls out multiple brightly colored printed pouches with animals wearing human clothes before she finds it.
Unnecessarily whimsical when a black pouch would work just as well.
Or maybe not carrying that much junk in the first place.
I’ve gotten by without a backpack full of provisions.
“I don’t think we controlled anything. But I do think we delayed them, which is all adults can hope for.”
“Probably.”
We stand outside our doors, key cards in hand, not making a movement inside our respective rooms. I don’t know why she’s dithering, but I can guess why I am.
Inexplicably, I’m loath to leave her. A big change from the start of this tour, when all I wanted was to be left alone.
But spending time with her just makes me want to spend more time with her.
She’s…entertaining. Interesting. A wee puzzle of fun and sometimes historic facts that I like exploring. Despite myself.
“I’ll see you tomorrow.” She’s playing with her key, hitting it lightly on the nails of her opposite hand. The movement causes the hastily shoved pouches to dip precariously out of her backpack. Finally, one loses the battle with gravity and falls out.
Asha doesn’t notice, so I move forward to pick it up for her.
“Oh,” Asha says, moving at the same time.
And then she’s in my arms. One of which is still extended down to the floor to reach for the pouch, and the other of which reflexively closes around her back. And I’m at the start of a squat, which makes me the perfect height for this surprise hug.
“I was…” I clear my throat, not able to finish the sentence.
I’m trapped. Not because she’s a bodybuilder holding me to her by brute strength.
But she does have curves. So many I’m intrigued, and want to keep her against me so I can further explore the interesting weight and softness pressed against me.
Want to feel it in every combination and every way until I’ve gotten my fill. If I ever could.
She’s holding me with something more effective than strength—my own curiosity.
I thought it was a strength of mine. One that made me successful at school, all the way up through my doctorate. One that makes me a good tour guide, who uncovers the most relevant information for each city we’re in so that the group gets the best education on their vacation.
But now I’m beginning to see it could also be a failing. Like right now, when I know I shouldn’t be hugging someone whose life is a more colorful version of Sesame Street. All bright colors, loud sounds, and fun playtime with some educational value.
And the warmth. She’s so very warm. I lower my head deeper to tuck it into the crook of her neck to find even more of that warmth radiating off her tan skin. And she smells like…sugar. How?
The curiosity at the new sensations won’t let me do anything other than lean in closer to research more primary sources on the issue. Of her and my reaction to her.
That’s the worst part of this; not only am I trapped as effectively as the sirens trapped unsuspecting sailors, my body doesn’t care. Instead, it’s enjoying this hug with all five senses.
Asha finally pulls away, taking the warmth and sweetness away with her.
I clear my throat and try saying what I started to at the beginning of this hug, back when I was an entirely different man. One who didn’t know she feels as amazing as she looks. “I was…” It takes another try, and another violent throat clearing before I can finish. “You dropped your pouch.”
“Oh.” Asha looks over her shoulder to see the object of the conversation and picks it up. “Oooooh.” She says it again, longer and deeper this time, with understanding. “You weren’t…” She squirms in discomfort at the revelation. “Sorry.”
“No, it’s fi—”
“I’ll see you tomorrow.” She doesn’t let me finish, getting in her room and closing the door with more speed than has ever been applied to the task in the past, closing the door with a firm slam when she’s inside.
Okay, then. I guess that could have gone worse. Then again, it could have gone a lot better, too.
I’m shocked to see the group from last night on time for the tour the next morning. Well, until I realize that Thomas and Kevin aren’t here. Then I’m disappointed to be right, because I know this will make Asha sad.
“Should we give them a few more minutes?” Asha asks. She doesn’t meet my eyes. I don’t know if it’s because two of her “best group ever” are messing up, or if she’s still embarrassed about the hug. I wish I had never said anything about that damn pouch.
I lay awake last night, not able to get the sight of her embarrassment and discomfort when she realized I was moving to pick up the pouch and she misinterpreted it out of my mind. Whatever was in there couldn’t have been that important. She could live without it.
Hell, I wish I hadn’t seen that damn pouch, and I had initiated a hug. A real hug.
“It’s a busy day. You shouldn’t have given them the club suggestions last night. You should have encouraged them to come back with us.” The irritation at myself bleeds over to my words to her, and I wince. I’m making it worse, but I can’t help it.
See, this is why books are easier. No emotions to speak of if I snap at them, or accidentally hug them, or spill coffee on them the one time during a long night studying.
“They were going out anyway. As long as I tell them where to go, there’s a chance they’ll end up at a place where the bartenders have my number and look out for our tours in exchange for sending people to them.”
“You have arrangements with bartenders?”
“Just for them to call me if something bad happens, or it looks like something bad is happening, and I can deal with it before the police get involved. And if they’re identified as one of our tours, of course.”
Damn, she’s a lot more prepared on the fun front than I would have thought.
“Well, did you get any calls?”
“No. Nothing. I spoke to Christina and she said they stayed out later when everyone else went back to the hotel.” She chews her bottom lip and I get momentarily distracted from what we’re talking about.
I clear my throat. “That’s not good.”
“No. I’m going to go knock on their door.”
“I’ll go,” I interrupt before she turns for the elevators.
“That eager to get away from our tour babies?” She’s got a knowing smile on her face as she nods at me. But at least she’s looking at me again. Even if it is to insult me.
“No. It’s not—” Then I rethink it. Because I offered so she wouldn’t see Kevin. Flirting, eager Kevin. Who probably sleeps in the nude, knowing my luck.
I don’t want Asha around him. Because she shouldn’t have to deal with flirtation when she’s trying to do her job. It has nothing to do with the fact that I know exactly how it feels to be pressed against her.
And how much I don’t want Kevin to experience that.
“I’ll check on the lads.” I turn in case she can see the reasons written on my face.
I check the passenger list of rooms and take the stairs to the room indicated. I pound on the door, calling out both their names, but I don’t get a response. This day is off to a grand start on all fronts.
I yell and knock louder, until I’m sure someone is going to complain to the front desk, and I finally hear some noise from the room. I hear a thud and some cursing, but I’ll take it. “Are you both alive and accounted for?”
The door opens and a very pale and clammy Kevin answers the door. Excellent. He looks ready to vomit, but he is alive and uninjured.
“The absolute state of you.” I say it knowing they won’t pick up on the insult.
“I don’t think we’re going to make it to the tour.”
That is obvious. But it’s not like I care if he learns anything. “That’s fine, have a lie-in if you want. But I need to make sure you’re safe and healthy-ish and then you can get back to sleep.”
“Well, we are.” The words are belied by the fact that he looks like he vomited a little in his mouth after he said them.
“Right. And Thomas.”
“He’s in bed.”
I lean into the room to yell at the beds. “Thomas, I need you to acknowledge me in some way.”
He raises his arm at me from the bed and then leans over to vomit into the trash can someone had the foresight to put next to the bed. I suppose they are professionals at this.
“Grand. We’re having dinner at an Indian restaurant tonight as part of the tour. Here’s the address and time if you want to join. And clean that up before you leave.” I write it out as fast as I can and shove it at Kevin, the smell of the room moving toward me like a solid mass.
Back in the lobby, Asha is telling some story that has everyone laughing around her. She finishes up when she sees me, and then rushes to meet me away from the group.
“They’re fine, but hungover. They must have been massively pissed last night. They’re going to have a lie-in.”
“Good. Well, not that they’re in pain, but that they’re in the room and conscious. Now we can enjoy royal London!” She says the last part louder, and for the benefit for the rest of the group, who don’t look happy at the delay.
The grumbling doesn’t stop when we usher them onto the bus, and I get it. I wouldn’t be happy if the vacation I paid for was interrupted by two eejits who don’t know their limits. There’s nothing we can say to make it better, so we ignore the complaints and hope palaces assuage them.
“Maybe I should stay back, too.” Christina looks longingly at the hotel.
Asha pauses, looking torn at the prospect of confrontation. “Oh, if that’s what you want…”
I clear my throat and look meaningfully at Christina. This is the sort of thing Asha is supposed to be working on.
“No, you know what? You should stay. Unless you feel really, really bad, of course. But I have aspirin! I also know the best places to puke in London, if it comes to that. I know that later, you won’t remember how bad you felt, just that you saw some awesome things.
” Asha rummages through her backpack for the acetaminophen.
“I once went to Egypt in the summer, which everyone told me was not the best time to do that, and it was so hot. But all I remember is how amazing the pyramids were and how it was nice that it wasn’t crowded.
And all the jokes we made about the wrath of the sun god. ” She holds up the bottle to Christina.
Christina takes it with a sigh. “Okay. I’m coming.” She trudges up the bus steps and Asha throws me a triumphant smile. I roll my eyes in response. She still has no backbone, as she was originally going to let the tourist stay. Not that I expect sunshine to be particularly rigid.
“Welcome to London-town!” Asha puts on what is the single worst English accent I’ve ever heard in my life, and I feel for the group who has to experience it with me.
It’s even worse than her Irish one and dear god, she’s going to do this in every country we go to, isn’t she?
Butchering language left and right. But a quick look shows the group is laughing, enjoying her absurdity. Well, if it works…
“On this tour there’s going to be royalty, horses, big hats, big houses, and more scandal than even the modern tabloids could dream of. And it’s all found in history books.”
She’s back to speaking with an American accent. Thank Christ.
I take up the introduction to the tour, as we discussed, and Asha will jump in later. “London has been inhabited since 4000 BCE—”
“Not this again,” she whispers under her breath.
Okay, she wasn’t supposed to jump in this early.
“London has so much greenery that per United Nations definitions, it counts as a forest.” Asha has no concern for my carefully planned speech.
Even though we tried to discuss the tour so we wouldn’t run into this exact problem.
We continue the tour, and I manage to teach some history while Asha tells the group about sex, lies, and betrayal. It’s exhausting, but the back and forth makes the group pay more attention than they would otherwise.
I can admit that, to myself if not out loud.
I’m less excited about all the photo stops we do, which are longer and more frequent than I usually give, but the tourists are happy, and it may make them pay attention more during the tour, since they know she’ll point out the good spots and they don’t have to worry about it.
This may be something to consider for future tours.
“And now, free time! Let me know if you need any recommendations!” she says.
“I have the sheets for things to do in London, for anyone that didn’t get to see them yesterday,” I say.
The group swarms me for the papers as Asha patiently takes last-minute photos and answers questions, even though I already gave them all the information they need. I could leave now, since my job is technically over. But Asha is still here, and I’m lingering.
“See you all for dinner! It’s at the best Indian restaurant ever!” She waves until our groups is fully dispersed, then turns to me with a look of terrifying determination. “How do you feel about picnics?”