Thomas was handing over a wad of notes when Nadia stormed down the stairs, wavy hair crackling in a haze about her face. The hair on the nape of his neck rose. From the corner of his eye, he noticed their host back away and scuttle into the safety of the small office adjoining the counter.

Nadia's footsteps ended on a stomp. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

He gulped, twisting the receipt in his hands. "Er ... paying the bill."

"Why didn't you wait for me?" She crossed her arms and adjusted her hips. "I can pay for myself."

Thomas flushed and raked his hand through his hair. "I know you can ... It's just — it isn't much and ... er —"

"We are not in the fucking nineteen-fifties, Thomas. How do you think I feel? Heck, how do you think I look? Sleeping in the same bed as you and then ... and then this!" Her hand gesticulated at the cash register. Their host's head, which had been slowly emerging from the cover of the room, retreated like a tortoise into its shell.

Thomas hoped she looked like his girlfriend, but he couldn't say that. Not if he wanted to come home from this trip a whole man. He rubbed his hand across a stubbled cheek, searching for words.

"Where I am from it is the gentlemanly thing to do."

"Well, where I'm from it makes me look like I'm eas —"

Thomas cleared his throat. "My goodness, will you look at the time! I need coffee, and I'm ravenous. Can you buy me breakfast?"

Nadia blinked.

Thomas shifted on his feet. "Ah, did I say something wrong?" Like hell you did, Waterhouse. He'd never asked any woman to pay for anything.

She shook her head. "No ... umm, no. It's just I've never been —"

"Asked?"

"Not outright — no."

Thomas fumbled in his pocket for a cigarette. He needed one. "Well, as it happens, I've never asked ... but when in Peru, why not live dangerously?"

Storm-grey eyes rolled skywards in a gesture he was coming to recognise as assent, and his lips twitched. With a flourish of hands, he waved for her to precede him out the door. "After you."

Every breath was a struggle. Thomas dropped onto hands and knees, sifting oxygen into his screaming lungs. Below lay a sprawl of tiny, red roofs. The low mud-brick fence separating Tarma from the hills was still visible, and a little girl skipped atop it, followed by a small, white goat. Across the valley, terraced fields cut into the lush and green hillside. They were well over 10,000 feet high. At least 6,000 higher than he had ever been before, and it had not taken long for the effects to become apparent. Above him, Nadia scrambled over loose earth and through dry brush, her form intent on the patch of grass and trees that waited enticingly at the summit. Thomas shook his head and wondered why he had allowed her to talk him into this climb.

She turned back to face him, grinning wickedly. "First one to the top pays for the bus!"

When he didn't argue, she put hands to the loamy soil and began loping ahead, expanding her lead.

Thomas grit his teeth, thinking of a reclining seat and clean bathroom. First class. No more headrests reeking of greasy hair. No more stench of urine. Not again. Not if he had his way.

He noted the effectiveness of her tactic and emulated her stance, granules and rock chips rough against his palms. The movement sent particles into the air, and a dry earthiness seeped into the back of his throat. He coughed, resigned himself to a short period of hell, and crawled like never before.

Moments later, his muscles burned, and the sensation expanded to his chest, where it intensified into a ball of white heat and tightened painfully. His head floated and light edged into his vision. The world swayed. He was on a pendulum, swinging to and fro, up and down in an arc and he gripped on for dear life. Sucking air through his teeth, he thrust past the sensations. Past her. Propelled harder. His body felt like a balloon filled with helium, about to reach bursting point.

He dragged himself across the final distance and flopped on to his back with arms outstretched. The air wheezed into his lungs and oxygen pumped back into his bloodstream as he luxuriated in the prickly grass and the shade from the overhead branches.

A scowling face appeared above him. Rows of small, white teeth barred themselves against sun-bronzed skin. "That wasn't fair."

Thomas folded his hands behind his head and smiled. "Not fair?"

"You're taller than me ... and stronger." She pushed herself up from all fours to her knees. "You had an unfair advantage."

Perhaps it was the altitude, but he felt euphoric. He smiled drunkenly.

"You're a typical male ... a fucking arse −"

Giddy, Thomas burst out laughing. Her words bounced off him like the seed heads of a dandelion. He knew them for what they were, a release of her pain and frustration. They meant she felt safe around him — though he didn't think she realised this yet.

She sniffed and turned her back to him.

Thomas tilted over to his side, intoxicated by the moment. He poked her in the ribs.

She swatted his hand. "Stop it!"

"Is the baby sad because she lost?" He attacked her ribs with his fingers. She shoved his hand away again, but he tickled her until she gave in to laughter, then retaliated.

They laughed and screeched as they rolled around, heedless of stones digging into them, or the sun sinking behind the mountains. All Thomas noticed was her: how her body touched his; the scent of apple shampoo in her hair.

She eventually stopped above him, breathless, her hands planted either side of his head and her grey eyes contemplative. He gave himself to their depths until an eagle cried out, and he reluctantly swam to the surface.

"Penny for your thoughts."

"Oh." She bit her lip. "I ... um ... thank you."

"For what?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "Making me forget for a moment." Her eyes glistened.

Wordlessly, he reached out and plucked a leaf from her hair, tenderly tucking the strands behind an ear.

She made a soft choking sound, retreated and sat up with knees to her chest.

Thomas mimicked her posture. He took in the sight of the slow shadows as they inexorably ate up the pass, advancing on the white buildings now washed pink from the glow of the setting sun. Even the air tasted of sunset. They would need to return soon, or their ankles would be at the mercy of unseen rocks and potholes.

But for the moment, he remained silent, giving her space and time to find her words.

They came with hesitance. "I ... I'm not used to having someone looking out for me." She paused. "I always had to earn my way. Even as a child I helped my parents. It's how I was raised. Khai, he told me that it was sexist for a woman to expect a man to pay for her. He loved my independence. Told me it was one of the special things about me."

Thomas wanted to give her a piece of his mind. The man had been using her, feeding his ego, and then when that ran out, his wallet. His mouth clamped shut. He didn't want to talk about Khai — the name sent stabs of envy through his chest. Would she ever get over him? If he could help it, she damned well would. And soon.

Nadia continued. "It's hard for me to accept help. I'm not used to it." Her breath exhaled shakily. "But I want you to know I appreciate it." She rocked back on her sit bones. "This Miss Independent does not completely hate being rescued, despite how she might kick up a fuss about it."

He tipped to the side and playfully knocked into her. "Well, this chivalrous sir feels like he has been rescued himself, though he never expected a wild shrew capable of such a thing."

She turned and scowled at him. "A wild shrew? Do you think you're Shakespeare or something?"

"You're certainly not a lady." He grinned and winked. Her body relaxed. "In my world, everyone says and does the right thing, but it doesn't necessarily make them kind. I have been forced into a mould. Pampered and given everything on a silver platter. The only thing I have completely earned was my degree, and I never chose to do it. I have a future waiting for me, and I'm not sure that I want it. Right now, I am rich in money but poor in purpose."

He gazed towards the horizon, now an orange glow above a blue line. "I like being around someone who speaks their mind. Someone kind, even if their words can be harsh. And I love that I am doing something crazy, and I don't need to be alone."

She rewarded him with a dazzling smile and his heart sung.

Thomas stood, brushed the dirt off the back of his trousers and then stretched out his hand. "Come on," he said, looking pointedly at the encroaching twilight. "We had best be going."

Nadia took his hand, and he pulled her to her feet. Hand in hand, they walked down the hill

in silence.

Image of Tarma sourced from:  https://www.tourhq.com/peru/tarma-guides