The Reluctant Roadtripper (A Romantic Comedy)

Chapter 10

Our current hotel offers breakfast, but I decide to give it a miss.

I know what you're thinking - and you're wrong. I'm not skipping breakfast in order to avoid spending further time with a certain hazel-eyed man-shaped treat.

I actually do have a tendency to avoid hotel breakfasts, even when they're factored into the price of the room. It's just too much effort for me to get out of bed earlier than required, especially if I've had yet another night with virtually no sleep. So I usually lie there for ages, half-conscious, internally debating with myself whether I should:

A) Force myself out of bed even earlier in order to make an effort to look presentable for breakfast?

B) Get up right before breakfast is meant to finish, and head down for it looking like I've literally just rolled out of bed (which I obviously have) with yesterday's eye make-up Alice-Coopering down my face . . .  While desperately hoping I'm recognised as a guest of the hotel and not thrown out?

C) Stay in bed, get an hour or two extra beauty kip, and likely spend the rest of the day with a rumbling stomach?

Option C almost always wins out.

So I send Nessa a message asking if she can make an attempt to smuggle me out some sort of pastry, and I bury my head back under my pillow in an attempt to eek out another wee bit of sleep.

Then, of course, I end up sleeping in and have approximately 20 minutes to pack and get ready to leave the hotel. In a mild panic, I carelessly tie my hair back in a high ponytail, fling on a pair of denim shorts and a blue and white checked shirt, and apply minimal make-up. At least the one advantage to looking like such a troll two days ago is that any effort is an improvement now. I've inadvertently set the bar exceptionally low for myself.

"Wait, were we all meant to be coordinating outfits today, or was it just you pair?" Michelle starts laughing as I arrive in reception. Last, of course.

I'm unsure what she means until I steal a glance at Owen and realise he is also wearing a similarly patterned shirt. Thankfully, he's not also wearing shorts like mine - I mean, the guy has great legs and all, but that would be taking the "twinning" situation a tad too far.

"Great minds think alike," he says with a smile, and I feel myself blush. Picking up our luggage, we make our way to the bus.

"So where are we off to today?" I ask him, as Nessa presses a chocolate croissant into my hand. Yum.

"We're going to drive back to the coast and head up to John O'Groats," he tells us, grimacing at the mention of the famous Scottish village. "It's a bit of a tourist trap, to be honest, but everyone always wants a picture with the famous signpost."

"And it is the most northern part of the mainland," Nessa points out. Owen shakes his head.

"That's actually a common misconception. Dunnet Head is actually further North." He winks. "Don't worry, I'll take you there too. It's much nicer, in my opinion."

I like the way he's gently corrected my friend without being condescending or a know-it-all about it. Once again, I realise just how perfect this job is for him - those five-star reviews aren't simply because of his looks.

"You have chocolate all around your mouth," Nessa murmurs in my ear. How the fuck have I managed that? I'm not a five year old child! Owen a.k.a. the Human Tissue Dipenser has clearly noticed, too, as he immediately offers me one to clean myself up with.

"Everything is melting in this heat," he says kindly as I redden once more.

It is an exceptionally warm day today, and Owen makes sure the air con is on full blast as soon as we climb onto the bus. "We're just going to make one quick stop before we get fully on our way," he shouts back to us before he sits down. "I think you're going to find this pretty cool."