Page 69 of Only One Tour Bus

CHAPTER 30

CALLUM

I’m stuck again.

But, in a change of pace, I have drool on my shirt instead of snot. So I suppose this can be considered an improvement, if one was forced to compare the situations.

Asha is blissfully unaware, sleeping through the rolling green hills and fields of the French countryside. Ah well, not like she hasn’t seen them plenty before.

Everyone else is operating under the same exhaustion, making this the most peaceful ride of the trip thus far, if I ignore the snoring. Since I would rather deal with the symphony of nineteen chainsaws playing on repeat over incessant questions and drunken chatter, I’ll enjoy the peace, such as it is.

And enjoy the close physical presence of Asha. Who is working overtime to change my opinion on cuddling. It’s still as physically uncomfortable as I always say it is, but there’s some redeeming charm in how much she seems to enjoy it. And while she’s snoring her own wee tune, it’s not one I would liken to a chainsaw.

It’s much lighter. Cuter than the monsters on the bus.

Proof that working with another tour leader is ruining me, since I’ve taken to calling snores cute. This is why people need to stay away from unnecessary attachments. And focus more on scholarship.

When my hand starts tingling as my blood flow constricts, Laura leans over to tell me we’re getting close to Strasbourg.

I gently shake my own shoulder and therefore Asha’s head. Then I take the coward’s way out and close my own eyes, pretending I was asleep so I don’t have to answer any unnecessary questions like why I keep letting this wee sunshine use me as a combination mattress, pillow, and tissue paper.

“Oh, shit,” Asha whispers when she wakes up. I want to see the expression on her face, but I’m not willing to risk the Sunshine Inquisition, so they stay closed. I feel her shift away, leaving my body colder than it was not one minute ago. Damn Laura and her love of the Arctic.

I hear and feel rustling next to me, forcing my eyes to remain closed with more strength of character than I thought I possessed. And then finally, she tugs on my arm.

“Callum, we’re almost there,” she whispers.

Or at least that’s what I think she said. I have no idea, because after she shook my arm, sharp tingles shot up it and made me contemplate finding a tourist shop that sells dull medieval swords to chop it off. I draw a breath in and try not to cry.

Because I haven’t felt pain like this since…well, since the last time she slept on my poor body and parts of it were deprived of blood for long periods.

I slam into the seat and try to regulate my breathing, while Asha realizes what’s happening.

“Oh, shit.” She says it louder this time. “I’m so sorry.” I open my eyes for a second to see her hands hovering over my arm.

“It’s fine,” I say through gritted teeth. It’s not fine, but it was the choice I made and I have no one else to blame for getting sucked into valuing her comfort over my own. Again.

“I’ll do the speech bit. You stay here and rest. Maybe moving it will help.” She’s keeping her hand over my arm as if she wants to touch it, but knows that if she does it will only hurt me worse.

I appreciate the restraint, even though I’m learning that I would welcome the touch in almost any other context. Maybe even this one, if it’s the only way I could get more.

Asha shuffles in front of me, pressing her curvy front against me as she stumbles in the small space. A gentleman would have gotten up so she could get out of the seat without difficulty, but I’m not a gentleman, and I’m still in a lot of pain from my stint as a pillow.

And I’m enjoying the up-close view and feel. Because I’m a terrible person.

Asha lifts the microphone while still throwing concerned looks my way.

“Hello, everyone.” She starts out softly, trying to lull people out of their naps slowly, like a kind, concerned mother. I would have tapped the microphone abruptly, letting the piercing feedback wake them up. There are some grumbles, but snores are still the predominant sound behind us, so she tries again, a little louder this time. “Hello, best group ever! It’s time to wake up.”

The snores decrease until all I can hear is the usual sounds of the large bus: the whirl of the AC, the roar of the engine, the low volume of Laura’s music, and chatter. It takes about as long as expected, which is too long, frankly.

“Welcome back to awake-land!”

“I want to go back to sleep-land,” Emilio shouts from the back.

“I get that, and if you want, you can stay in the bus through the break. But that would be a shame, because we’re stopping in a real medieval gem of a city. And that’s not just my personal opinion; UNESCO designated entire parts of it as a World Heritage Site. The first time UNESCO made an entire area a site, instead of just one monument or building complex.”

I don’t know if UNESCO’s opinion is going to impress anyone who doesn’t work in cultural heritage, but I salute Asha trying.