We’re close to the busy street, and I notice a few of those hop on/hop off buses are idling at the curb like it’s a bus stop.
I also notice how most of the people are climbing on the bus and they’re not showing…anything to the driver. No ticket, not a piece of paper. Nothing.
“I have an idea,” I say as I take Susanna’s gloved hand.
“What do you want to do?” She starts walking faster as I practically drag her toward the buses. I don’t want us to miss our chance.
“Just follow my lead,” I tell her as we approach the bus.
She tries to jerk her hand out of mine. “Wait. Are you doing what I think you’re doing?”
I send her a look and she clamps her lips shut.
The driver isn’t paying us any attention. He’s too busy talking to the guy on the street who’s wearing a maroon jacket with the bus company’s logo emblazoned on the back. We jump on the bus and I immediately head up the narrow winding staircase to the top, Susanna right behind me.
There aren’t many people sitting on the top level and we collapse into a row of plastic chairs near the back, Susanna a little breathless, me laughing my ass off.
“I can’t believe you did that!” She’s socking my arm with her fist, but I barely feel it.
“You did it too. You’re just as guilty,” I point out, still laughing.
“We’re criminals!” she practically wails as the bus pulls away from the curb and heads across the bridge.
“Shh, keep your voice down. We don’t want anyone else knowing we’re criminals.” I’m grinning again. And she’s hitting me again.
And I sort of love it.
“Stop wasting your energy.” I grab her wrist just as she’s mid-slug. “I’d kiss your hand, but you have gloves on.”
“You should kiss my lips instead.” She leans in close, her mouth pursed.
I go to do just that and dodge left at the last second, kissing her cheek. She makes a disappointed noise right before I actually kiss her. I meant for it to be quick, but then I kiss her again. Then again.
Until we’re full on making out on top of the tourist bus.
“We’re getting carried away,” Susanna says a few minutes later, after she’s torn her lips from mine. Her hair is a mess from my fingers and her eyes are extra sparkly. “We don’t need to make a scene.”
When she gets all proper, it kind of turns me on.
“Think they’ll kick us off the bus if we do?” I waggle my brows at her.
“You probably want to be kicked off, you naughty, wicked boy.” She smacks my arm and then points. “Look, there’s Big Ben. And the parliament building.”
“Think this bus will take us to Buckingham Palace?” I ask, staring at the iconic monuments ahead of us. You see this kind of stuff in school, or online or whatever, but when it’s right in front of your face, it feels almost surreal.
“Not sure. If we’re lucky, it will. Seems to be going in the right direction,” she answers as she looks around.
“Your sense of direction isn’t the best,” I tease, bumping my shoulder against hers.
She laughs. “I’m the worst. One of my faults.”
“Your faults don’t bother me,” I murmur, slipping my arm around her shoulders so I can hold her close.
“They won’t bother you because you’re leaving tomorrow, and you’ll never have to deal with them again,” she says jokingly, but I can tell there’s sadness in her words.
And those words make me sad too. They make me face reality. I’m leaving tomorrow, and Susanna’s right. I won’t ever see her again. There’s no reason for me to.
Or is there?