by Emily Gee

Created on: March 27, 2008

It wasn't until Charlie knocked on the door a little after ten that I realised I had been day dreaming about him for almost an hour. I was beginning to wonder if perhaps all that champagne hadn't done some more permanent damage to my brain. My thought processes were becoming so foreign it was scary.

I grabbed my bag and opened the door to him before I could indulge in it any further. He was wearing combats now, cut off just below the knee and another over-washed t-shirt that clung in a very distracting way. He had a huge, professional looking camera over one shoulder and an excited grin on his face.

"All set?" He asked eagerly. I nodded and followed him out of the hotel. There was a limo waiting at the curb, not an uncommon sight in this town, and I barely glanced at it before setting off down the street. It was only when I realised Charlie wasn't next to me that I turned around. He was stood beside the limo holding the door open.

"Come on, get in." He said cheerfully, as though it were an everyday occurrence to take a limo.

"Charlie, what the hell are you doing?" For a second the irrational thought flitted through my head that he was stealing it.

"The trip, it comes with a limo service. Its all part of this package thing I booked."

Right, well at least he wasn't a car thief, but it seemed that my previous ideas about a sweaty coach full of tourists and regular, organised loo stops had been way off. A tiny worm of unease burrowed into my gut. This seemed a little too intimate, more like a romantic trip for two than a group outing. Still it was a bit late to back out now.

The leather seat was buttery soft and cool as I slid over to let Charlie in. He had that child at Christmas' look on his face again, pressing buttons to open and then close the windows, messing with the air conditioning, peering into the mini fridge.

"Isn't this great? I've never been in a limo before. I bet you have, of course, going to all those fancy soirees with Dr. Ben."

I chose to ignore the hint of sarcasm in his voice. I didn't want to start the trip off on an argument. Besides the truth was I had never been in a limo either and was struggling to dampen my own bubbling excitement. Not that I would be admitting that to Charlie now. Let him think that Ben and I led some glamorous lifestyle when the truth was the closest thing to a soiree we had ever attended was probably my father's sixtieth birthday party, and then we had simply taken a taxi. I chose not to answer, instead throwing him

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