sensitive; easily shaken or disordered
I hadn’t really had time to let the rash decision that I was going to India on one of my own tours sink in. I was too busy making sure that my handover would be as simple as possible for Ben and Kelli. I’d cleared my diary, rearranged meetings that I was meant to have and politely declined networking events, asking to be emailed the presentation notes instead.
The most urgent thing of all was to get our visas sorted, as without those the whole trip wouldn’t take place. I’d put a call in to Sanjay, who worked for Visa Express, to see if he could take care of it like he did for our customers. However, word had got round that I was planning on breaking ties with his company as I wanted to bring it all in-house so he politely but firmly told me to bugger off.
So, here I was one wet morning waiting for the visa office to open, huddled under a shop front as I’d forgotten to bring an umbrella in my rush to leave my flat and be the first one here when the doors opened. Only, it was like the whole of Manchester had had the same idea. At least thirty other tired-looking people were patiently waiting in the queue ahead of me, and Shelley being Shelley was running late. The minutes ticked past and the doors still weren’topening; I was cold, miserable and really didn’t have time for this. Where the hell was Shelley?
‘This your first time?’ the tall Indian man in front of me asked as I strained my neck past his shoulder for the umpteenth time to see what the hold-up was. It was now two minutes past nine and there was no sign of the rusty shutters being raised.
‘Oh, erm, yep,’ I replied not wanting to get into conversation with anyone.
His pale, hazel-coloured eyes circled with a ring of olive green creased as he laughed. ‘I could tell. You know they say that this is the first step in your preparation for going to India.’ He paused, half smiling at me.
‘What’s that then?’ I stared at him, taking in how good-looking he was. His brooding eyes seemed to pop from his light brown skin and designer stubble; his thick mane of black hair screamed
tug me
and his crooked smile was bashful but playful at the same time.
‘Patience.’ He laughed.
Despite how absolutely gorgeous this guy was, I was in no mood to fall under his spell; I had far too much I needed to be getting on with to even think about what his body looked like under his classic, well-fitted suit.
I huffed. ‘We’re not in India; we’re in Manchester where things open at the time they’re supposed to.’
He just shook his head in mirth. ‘If you think this is testing, wait till you get over there. You will learn things about yourself that you never would have discovered in a million years. Oh, and you’re going to love it.’
I knew his type: fit but he knew it, full of condescending arrogance thinking because he fell from heaven he was somehow better than you.
‘I think I know myself pretty well, thank you,’ I retorted with a tight smile, wishing this queue would hurry up andmove so I didn’t have to look at his annoying, smug face. I was going to be fine in India. Fine.
‘Georgia! I’m here!’ Shelley called out, running over red-faced and waving at me. ‘Excuse me; my friend’s saved me a place.’ She pushed her way down the line, pretending not to see the looks of disgust and hear the irritated huffs and puffs from the queue. ‘Sorry I’m late, hon,’ she said breathlessly, fanning her flushed cheeks with her phone. ‘God look at this queue. Could you not have got one of your contacts to sort this out for us?’
‘If I could have I would have, trust me.’
She nodded, seemingly picking up on my pissed-off tones. I had so much I needed to be doing thanks to our spontaneous holiday; waiting in line to get a stamp in my passport was not one of them. After realising that our rash, drunken decision didn’t just affect the two of us I’d been trying to make my unplanned leave as
I hadn’t really had time to let the rash decision that I was going to India on one of my own tours sink in. I was too busy making sure that my handover would be as simple as possible for Ben and Kelli. I’d cleared my diary, rearranged meetings that I was meant to have and politely declined networking events, asking to be emailed the presentation notes instead.
The most urgent thing of all was to get our visas sorted, as without those the whole trip wouldn’t take place. I’d put a call in to Sanjay, who worked for Visa Express, to see if he could take care of it like he did for our customers. However, word had got round that I was planning on breaking ties with his company as I wanted to bring it all in-house so he politely but firmly told me to bugger off.
So, here I was one wet morning waiting for the visa office to open, huddled under a shop front as I’d forgotten to bring an umbrella in my rush to leave my flat and be the first one here when the doors opened. Only, it was like the whole of Manchester had had the same idea. At least thirty other tired-looking people were patiently waiting in the queue ahead of me, and Shelley being Shelley was running late. The minutes ticked past and the doors still weren’topening; I was cold, miserable and really didn’t have time for this. Where the hell was Shelley?
‘This your first time?’ the tall Indian man in front of me asked as I strained my neck past his shoulder for the umpteenth time to see what the hold-up was. It was now two minutes past nine and there was no sign of the rusty shutters being raised.
‘Oh, erm, yep,’ I replied not wanting to get into conversation with anyone.
His pale, hazel-coloured eyes circled with a ring of olive green creased as he laughed. ‘I could tell. You know they say that this is the first step in your preparation for going to India.’ He paused, half smiling at me.
‘What’s that then?’ I stared at him, taking in how good-looking he was. His brooding eyes seemed to pop from his light brown skin and designer stubble; his thick mane of black hair screamed
tug me
and his crooked smile was bashful but playful at the same time.
‘Patience.’ He laughed.
Despite how absolutely gorgeous this guy was, I was in no mood to fall under his spell; I had far too much I needed to be getting on with to even think about what his body looked like under his classic, well-fitted suit.
I huffed. ‘We’re not in India; we’re in Manchester where things open at the time they’re supposed to.’
He just shook his head in mirth. ‘If you think this is testing, wait till you get over there. You will learn things about yourself that you never would have discovered in a million years. Oh, and you’re going to love it.’
I knew his type: fit but he knew it, full of condescending arrogance thinking because he fell from heaven he was somehow better than you.
‘I think I know myself pretty well, thank you,’ I retorted with a tight smile, wishing this queue would hurry up andmove so I didn’t have to look at his annoying, smug face. I was going to be fine in India. Fine.
‘Georgia! I’m here!’ Shelley called out, running over red-faced and waving at me. ‘Excuse me; my friend’s saved me a place.’ She pushed her way down the line, pretending not to see the looks of disgust and hear the irritated huffs and puffs from the queue. ‘Sorry I’m late, hon,’ she said breathlessly, fanning her flushed cheeks with her phone. ‘God look at this queue. Could you not have got one of your contacts to sort this out for us?’
‘If I could have I would have, trust me.’
She nodded, seemingly picking up on my pissed-off tones. I had so much I needed to be doing thanks to our spontaneous holiday; waiting in line to get a stamp in my passport was not one of them. After realising that our rash, drunken decision didn’t just affect the two of us I’d been trying to make my unplanned leave as
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