An uncomfortable sensation twisted through Thomas' belly. He'd tricked her, let her think this was a charade. Hell, on her end it was. But he intended to change that. Somehow, he needed to make her understand what she could have with him.

He turned his head to look at her. She dozed against the window with head pillowed on a fisted palm. The light of the morning sun illuminated the lines and drops of condensation clinging to the glass and set off stray wisps of her hair in gold flashes.

Squinting to make out her features against the glare, he ran a whisper-light finger across the blonde fuzz at the edge of her jawline.

"I'll make you realise that I am worthier of you," he whispered.

She answered with a snore.

He chuckled, closed his eyes and soaked up the moment: the feeling of closeness, her aroma, the rhythm of her breath and her shallow, nasal inhalations punctuated by the odd snort. She felt like home.

Home, at that moment, happened to be a wide valley. The bus sped through it, following the Urubamba River and an accompanying set of train-tracks, all taking advantage of the natural passageway through the mountains and showing an ever-changing montage to the few passengers still awake. They passed mud-brick villages and fields extending from the tributary to foothills, full of thick yellow grass, hardy shrubs, and a sprinkling of colourful litter. Above, on either side, hunched summits. The closer, lower peaks covered in grey-beige rocks and dark-green brush, those looming further in the distance topped with snow.

A faint musty odour filled the space — the scent of outer layers not designed for regular washing. It was not in the least offensive. If anything, he found it reassuring — familiar, like his father's winter hunting coats that were spot cleaned, beaten and aired after use, but only occasionally, if ever, put in the laundry.

He leaned his head against the scratchy headrest. The narrow seats no longer seemed so restrictive. Now, they were safe and comforting, holding him just where he needed. He raised his hand to smother a yawn and shut his eyes — only for a minute. Just to alleviate the red-burn of fatigue.

With the stalling of the bus, Thomas' head bounced against the seat in front of him, and he woke. A pudgy face peered over the headrest, deep-set eyes assessing him. Thomas fought the urge to squirm. The blonde woman's fair skin was mottled by webs of red veins over a prominent nose and cheeks. All of a sudden, she broke out into a grin that framed the yellowed teeth of a mature-aged coffee drinker, one grey canine topped with a gold cap.

"I don't know what that stupid driver is about," the woman said in a Canadian accent, "but he's gone and woken the lot of us up."

"Shh, Jan," said an unidentified voice in a sleepy hiss. "I'm trying to get some more shut-eye before we arrive."

Jan humphed, then seeing where they were, said, "Oh!"

The phantom voice, coming from below a mass of curly brunette hair, suddenly cried out as if prodded.

"We're at Km 82," said Jan. She winked at Thomas, then turned back and called out, "Your beauty sleep is over, Sharon."

The engine roared back to life, and they rocked from side to side while the vehicle drove slowly, crackling over gravel. Murmurs arose around them as people roused, rubbed bleary eyes, then realised where they were and sat bolt upright.

Nadia was no exception to this, though Thomas wondered if her sudden jolt was due to more than the realisation of their arrival. She stared at him with an odd look, which he interpreted as uncertainty, and a thud started in his chest.

Could this work? Was he good enough for her? Money wasn't a drawcard. Heck, if it were, he wouldn't be here right now. Still, undoubtedly, he was better than that twit she was mooning over.

Miguel stood up at the front of the bus, and Thomas, gratefully, transferred his attention to something else. "Buenos días, chicos, y bienvenido a Km 82." Miguel paused a moment for effect, smiling broadly. "The start of the Inca Trail!"

A round of clapping sounded, interspersed with some whooping from a pair of young Australian men at the rear. Miguel grinned in a way that reminded Thomas of a car salesman. Eventually, the clamour died down, and Miguel raised his hand. "We have a long walk today."

Jan grumbled something incomprehensible, and Miguel nodded apologetically at her. "As was explained last night, today will be a warm-up. It will help prepare you for the next two days." He stopped again, catching each set of eyes in succession, face grave. "It is essential that you have enough energy to make the walk — it is very cold at night, and we do not want you to freeze to death by the side of the road," he said, a hint of humour clear in his voice.

"I'm dead," said Jan.

"Shh, no you're not." Sharon's waves bobbed as she spoke. "Just think, now you have the excuse to stuff your mouth to your heart's content — guilt-free."

"Speak for yourself, string bean. Now you will have to do more than just peck at your food. Mind you, there'll be no hot showers or hair dryers." Jan's chuckle developed into a throaty cough, and the seat jiggled under her weight.

Sharon sniffed. "I'm already regretting bringing you here."

Thomas covered his mouth. He turned to look at Nadia and saw her eyes twinkling.

The bus halted again and remained still. The driver pulled a lever, and the heavy door opened, squeaking on well-worn hinges. A moment later, the aisle filled with the stamping feet of passengers as they grabbed their bags and shuffled off.

Thomas and Nadia sat waiting patiently. Khai followed the two other Australian men as they exited the bus, and stopped next to Thomas. Swinging to his right, ostensibly to peer out the window, his daypack hit Thomas on the head with a thunk.

"Oh shit! Sorry, mate."

Thomas waved the apology away and painted a smile across his face.

Khai continued. "Thanks for being so understanding, buddy. You're a champ." His plump lips stretched into a thin-lipped smile, almost reaching his ears, and his eyes shifted around Thomas to focus on Nadia, turning black. Then he straightened and moved on without a word. Seconds later, Savannah scrambled past, struggling to catch up.

Nadia sat stiffly, with her fists balled in her lap. When Thomas tracked her gaze, he saw that it rested on Savannah. Not particularly surprising, he thought. What was, was the expression of sympathy on her face.

By then, most of the bus had cleared. He stayed seated — in part out of courtesy to Jan and Sharon, but also to give Nadia time to rein in her emotions. The last thing they needed was a shouting match on their first day.

Jan rose, groaning as her short, stout body was forced into motion. She pulled herself up using the headrest of her chair and laughed raucously when she lost her balance, nearly falling. Once erect, she straightened her loose tracksuit and bubbled away."Oooh, I wonder what there will be for breakfast. Eggs, bacon, toast, eggs — whoops I said that already. And coffee — I would kill for a coffee! Do you think they will have orange juice?"

Sharon waited in stoic silence, evidently used to such mindless chatter, and swept Thomas with a steely glance. The woman was the polar opposite of her friend: tall and willowy, with fresh make-up, manicured nails and dressed in skin-tight active wear. She arched one immaculately shaped eyebrow as if to say, "Do you see what I have to put up with," brushed her hand over Thomas's shoulder to remove some invisible dirt, then sedately followed her friend.

Thomas jumped down from the last step, his feet crunching on the loose stones. He could see the train-tracks to and from the tourist town of Aguas Calientes, and beyond, the river, rushing loudly over submerged rocks. To his right, the gravel ended at a road of compressed earth, following the waterway on its westerly course.

He pivoted to offer his hand for Nadia. She eyed it for a time, and his chest contracted. When her hand slipped into his, he exhaled and hesitantly squeezed it.

As they walked, their hiking boots kicked up puffs of dust, reminding him of the smell of an Italian summer. A wind blew through the valley. It left a chill that pierced to the bones, then snaked on through the long, undulating grasses on either side of them. For a moment, the sun popped out from beneath the clouds, shining bright. It warmed the exposed skin of his face and disappeared.

The eating area was in the open, on an expanse of grass next to a lopsided double-story house built from mud brick, red-clay tiles and thick-wood beams. A series of trestle tables had been unfolded and were surrounded by twelve tourists — half wearing the ubiquitous knitted llama hats. Two seats remained at the far end, and after depositing their bags on a blue tarp, Thomas and Nadia made their way over.

Thomas's chair wobbled on the uneven ground as he sat, but it held. Nadia sniggered, and he sent her a half-hearted glare. A young porter arrived, and the mouth-watering aroma of brewed coffee followed as the man poured from a thermos into the metal mug in front of him.

Hallelujah. "Er, gracias."

"De nada," said the man, lines creasing the corner of his eyes when he smiled. He backed away and moved on to fill Nadia's.

As the service progressed, Miguel approached, darted a look at Thomas and Nadia, and proceeded to ask everyone to introduce themselves once again.

Sharon was a recent divorcee with cabin fever who had dragged her best friend, Jan, out of Canada. Rob and Trent were newly graduated from their MBAs in Australia. James and Jude, from England, had decided on a gap year between school and university. Geneva and Sara, of Switzerland, were on their summer break, and newlyweds, Logan and Chelsea, on a honeymoon from America.

Thomas's throat tightened as he spoke, but he kept his voice clear and steady. Despite the frisson of tension radiating back and forth between Nadia, to his immediate left, and Khai, further to his right, sitting with an arm draped around Savannah's shoulders, Thomas found the meal pleasant. The food far exceeded his expectations, containing everything Jan had predicted and more, and the company were friendly, approachable, and thankfully, unaware of the love triangles amidst their ranks.

Even better, Nadia was going along with their agreement, sitting closer than required. Periodically, he put his hand on hers, and she did not flinch but would pluck a piece of fruit from his plate or wipe a crumb from his sweater. Although he knew the gestures meant nothing to her, they felt good. Damned good.

From time to time, Thomas felt the prickling of eyes upon him and caught a flash of dark-brown ones assessing him with undisguised distaste. But most often they were focused on Rob and Trent, who seemed to hold a similar sense of crass humour.

A little while later, Thomas placed a neat row of sliced banana on a now cold pancake, drizzled a zigzag of honey and made a wrap. Sucking the sticky residue from his thumb, he returned his attention to the conversation between Nadia, Jan and Sharon. Nadia was laughing harder than necessary. The staff had begun packing away the dishes, but most of her food remained on her plate.

"You need to eat more," he said.

"I'm fine."

"You've barely eaten the past day."

"I told you, I'm fine."

Thomas didn't like the chances of that. There was some intense walking ahead, and at this altitude, fatigue would kick in quickly. He resolved to keep pushing.

"I don't feel like carrying you up hill and down dale when you run out of steam."

Nadia huffed, crossed her arms and looked away.

Alright, he thought, I can be difficult too — but I'll have fun about it. He snaked his arm around her waist and pulled her close. Her body stiffened.

"He's right you know," butted in Jan. "He's got your best interests at heart."

Nadia narrowed her eyes at the woman.

While she was distracted, Thomas reached for the last banana with his free hand, then wiggled it in front of her nose.

Nadia scowled at him, but took it, sighing heavily.

"I don't think she likes being told what to do — especially not by a man," Sharon said in a clipped speech. She pulled out a packet of cigarettes and lit one. "I like that in a woman."

Thomas didn't know what to think of the comment, so he smiled as charmingly as possible. It worked. Sharon proffered the packet. He accepted, surprised at how smokers could so easily pick each other in a crowd.

"You just appreciate having another sparrow at the table, so the attention is taken off you," said Jan, poking her friend in the ribs.

"Ouch!"

Jan laughed. "It wouldn't hurt if there was a small layer of fat."

Thomas inhaled the smooth taste of tobacco and decided that Jan was correct.

Ten minutes later, when the group left the clearing, Nadia continued her silent protest as she chewed on her banana. It ended when they made their way to the wooden sign that pronounced the start of the Camino Inka for the obligatory photo. The men stood at the back on top of a low rock wall, the women in front. Thomas was smugly satisfied to find himself next to Khai, notably a full head taller. Then, after numerous photos were taken on various cameras, the party proceeded to the entrance checkpoint and crossed the green suspension bridge. Finally, he was starting the Inca Trail.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Buenos días, chicos, y bienvenido a Km 82. — Good morning, guys, and welcome to Km 82.

De nada — You are welcome

Camino Inka — Inka Trail

Photo by Kal Loftus on Unsplash.