The Nasty Teddy

She next woke when James banged his hands rhythmically along the outside of the bus calling their names. Owen groaned. “F-king drummers,” he complained. “What is the time?”

“I don’t know, but I am starving.”

The bus engine was silent, and the driver had already departed, so they had arrived a while before, they realised, and slept through it. They used the en suite and dressed, pushing sunglasses onto their faces as they staggered down the steps into the daylight and squinted against the unfamiliar glare of the sun, fuzzy brained and groggy from sleep.

“This is different,” Owen commented as they were joined Seb, Jeremy and James on the pavement, the three guys looking brighter and more awake than Emily felt. Seb held a black espresso coffee in his hand which might, she thought, account for their alertness. “Being at the venue bright and early.”

“It is midday,” Seb pointed out. “Most people don’t consider that early.”

“Early for us,” Owen grinned lopsidedly, his dimple appearing.