Page 23 of Only One Tour Bus

“She already has to wake up earlier to get the bus checked and ready. Have some compassion for your fellow human.” She gives me the sternest look that’s been on her face since I’ve known her, but then quickly chases it away with a smile as she turns on her heel to deliver the coffee to Laura.

I watch her bounce away, equally amazed that she doesn’t spill any of the coffee as I am that she actually rebuked me.

The group starts trickling down, in almost the exact same order that they got here the first day. People are creatures of habit. I direct them to the bus as they arrive, and Asha comes back out when the last people get on the bus.

“Laura is caffeinated and happy, and everyone is settled on the bus.” She checks her watch. “With one minute to spare into the five-minute grace period. See, best tour group ever!”

Ugh. I can’t decide if I’m happier the group is on time or madder that I can’t say I told you so. “The grace period is not on time, by definition. Which means they’re provisionally an okay group.”

“Nope, I can see the love and affection in your eyes.”

On board the bus, I settle in the front seat, snagging the microphone before my co-leader can claim it. “We’ll have a comfort break in a few hours, and then the next stop will be Fountains Abbey. Enjoy the ride till then.”

Asha shakes her head at me from across the aisle. She undoubtedly would have asked all of them about their nights and had some irritating conversation where they all got to know each other even better and by the end of it, everyone would be planning their next vacation together.

One without me, thankfully.

But I guess I am supposed to be working on my interpersonal skills, so I raise the mic again. “If you have any lingering questions about Edinburgh or this trip, feel free to come up and ask me. Or Asha. I hope you all had fun after the distillery.” There. See? I am a helpful tour leader who doesn’t need coaching from her on how to make things more personal.

Asha nods slightly at me from her seat. But she doesn’t have an impressed look saying she was completely wrong about me. It’s more like she’s acknowledging that I’m trying, pitiful though I may be in her opinion.

That’s not liable to improve my mood any. Nor will this long drive.

I should never step out of my comfort zone. Inviting people to conversation has been painful thus far, and we’re only a few hours into this drive.

I want to point out that I specifically said if anyone had questions about Edinburgh or the tour, they were welcome to come up. I would have graciously answered any questions about history, culture, or tour logistics. But thus far I’ve only gotten questions about me. What’s my favorite place to travel, where do I want to go next, what’s my favorite meal to get on this tour, am I married, am I in a relationship.

I don’t know where those last few came from. Which is why I’m so shocked that I tell the truth, that there is no one. And then the lawyer woman looks at me like I’m…okay, I don’t even know enough about the law to know what gets their motors running, but she’s looking at me like I’m something lawyers like. Objections or gavels or briefs. Maybe a wig.

Asha, who is clearly eavesdropping, despite that not being Wee Sunshine behavior, slides behind the woman and distracts her with some of her own travel stories. Then she drops into the seat next to me when the woman returns to her seat.

“Poor lamb. Have you never been hit on by the tourists?” she asks.

“No. On my tours, I discourage fraternization. This is all your fault, and your loose tour outlook. You try to be friends with the clients and all of a sudden they’re asking questions about your personal life.”

“Wow. This is not the response flirting usually gets from the tour leaders. It’s so…Victorian of you.”

“What? Have you? With a customer?”

“Well, not on tour. Because I think it would be awkward to force the entire tour to live my morning after with me. But I have hooked up with someone from the group after the tour ends, a time or two.”

“What?” I think that’s the only word I know now.

“Don’t be so judgmental about it. Do you know how hard it is to meet someone when you live in a place but only spend a few nights a month there?”

I give her a level look. “We have the same job.”

“Then how are you meeting people when you want to get laid?”

No. No, no, no. Wee Sunshine Women do not talk about getting laid. I can’t have heard that right. I don’t want to look at her and think about sex. I especially don’t want to think about her having sex with someone else.

But she’s looking at me, earnestly waiting for a response. “The internet,” I say awkwardly.

“Yeah. That’s great. And it helped for a while, but it turns out, men don’t want to meet you a few times for dinner, and then wait for you while you disappear for a week or three. They move on, Callum. They move on hard and fast. And then you’re social media stalking them and see they got married right after they ghosted you because you had to miss their birthday and take twenty people to Florence last minute to taste wine and look at marble abs.”

“Well, that is specific. But I do know people don’t want to deal with this lifestyle. Still, someone on tour?”

“No, again. Someone from tour. It’s an important distinction. I spent weeks traveling to some of the most romantic sites in the world, and then if we have some fun for a few nights before they fly back, that’s great. And with guys from tour, I never start dreaming about a future, since I know they’re leaving. It helps, psychologically speaking.”