Thank you so much for the reviews – each and every one of you is amazing. I'm sorry about how long this took - I should make sure I have chapters pre-written, but that's never going to happen! Fingers crossed it's alright.


The coach quietened down after an hour or so – presumably due to the teenage passengers crashing back down to earth from their sugar highs with considerable force, thus falling asleep and leaving their teachers in peace for a while.

Tom and Nicki had been talking non-stop for the first hour of the journey, but had now decided to move onto 'breakfast'; neither of them had eaten anything since waking up, other than the coffee and a biscuit in the staff room. She'd been sensible and brought with her a box of cereal bars, fruit and nuts, whereas he had simply picked up every sugar filled concoction he could find – jelly tots, mini eggs and strawberry laces. They took the mature decision to start on the sugar.

Fifteen minutes later; the e-numbers had kicked in, and both teachers were behaving like teenagers. They had laughed so much that they had ended up crying about the time when Grantly had ended up locked in the English store cupboard for a weekend, having been listening to a tape and not hearing the caretaker come and lock the doors.

"Honestly, he was absolutely mutinous when we found him!" Tom managed as he tried to stop laughing. Nicki attempted to take a sip of water, and only succeeded in spluttering it all over Tom, who, still laughing, didn't seem to realise. She closed the water, placing it in her bag and rummaging around to find something else.

"Here," she whispered, and he felt for a moment as if it was just them, alone, as she took a bottle of beer out of her bag, passing it to him and opening one for herself, "Be quiet." Tom took his Swiss army knife from his pocket; sliding the bottle opener out and handing it to her. She expertly opened the bottle, handing the knife back to him and taking a swig of beer.

After a few minutes of silence, he murmured, "We really shouldn't be doing this." Their bottles were half empty, and she grinned as she took a sip.

"I've got more in my suitcase." She said, near enough whispering in his ear; her voice husky as she spoke so only he could hear her. Was she trying to give him a heart attack before they even arrived?

"We'll need it." He answered, and she laughed, eyes sparkling. Who'd known that Nicki could be so devious?


The first thing that Tom became aware of when he woke was that he wasn't in bed; or especially comfortable. The second was that, wherever he was, he was moving – and he realised that they were still on the coach. The third thing was that, rather than sleeping alone, he had somehow ended up with Nicki's head resting on his shoulder, her right hand on his chest, and his arm around her waist.

Opening his eyes, he could see her peaceful facial expression, lips slightly parted, blue eyes closed. She mumbled something and shifted her head slightly, her hand dropping from his chest to his leg. He gulped.

"Er... Nicki?" he said quietly, and she groaned, eyes fluttering open and closing almost instantly. After a few seconds, she seemed to wake up, opening her eyes and looking straight into his. She glanced down, realising her position and hurriedly moving, blushing fervently.

Her hair was matted and had begun to curl; her eyes barely open and her long legs were curled up into her body, shoes abandoned on the floor. She yawned, covering her mouth and closing her eyes again.

"What bloody time is it?" she asked, flexing her shoulders and stretching her neck. She looked beautiful, he mused, without makeup – in a way he'd never thought possible, she looked sweet. He quickly dismissed this thought, reminding himself who he was thinking about. Nicki Boston was not sweet. In fact, if she could read his mind right now, he'd probably be getting a punch – nothing as girly as a slap.

"Oi," She prodded him, smiling, and pulling him swiftly out of his thoughts, "Time?"

"Oh, er..." he glanced at his watch, squinting through the dark of the coach, "Seven."

She groaned, resting her head back on his shoulder and yawning, "I'm not being dramatic or anything, but I think I might quite possibly be dead."

He laughed, and she opened her eyes a crack, looking at him with what could only be described as total exhaustion crossed with amusement, however the brightness in her eyes was returning, her blue orbs sparkling.

"Is your hair naturally curly?" he blurted, mentally cursing himself.

Oh, well done. Of all the things you could have said...

"Sadly, yes," she replied, a little surprised by the question, "Why; do I look like a poodle?" she asked, running her fingers through her hair self consciously. He grabbed her wrist, preventing her from straightening the kinks.

"You should leave it like that more often."

Good god, was he even capable of intelligent speech?

She laughed, opening her eyes fully and sitting up, "Sorry, have I made your shoulder ache?" she asked, wincing as she moved. She rubbed his shoulder gently; and he could smell her perfume as she moved.

"S'alright, I make a good pillow, do I?" he smiled, withdrawing his arm from around her waist – she seemingly hadn't realised that it was there, and resisted slightly, before allowing him to move.

"I'll check on the kids." She said, for lack of a better response. She got up from her seat, still barefoot, rubbing her sore back as she walked sleepily up the aisle of the coach.

"Miss, are we nearly there yet?" asked a sleepy voice midway up the coach, which Tom thought belonged to Scout.

"We're on the motorway, we'll be there in about half an hour." She told the student quietly, and Tom could imagine her smile, her kind blue eyes, and her hair tumbling over her shoulder.

"Miss, I feel sick." Another complained, and he listened to her soothing voice, closing his eyes and smiling to himself, despite thinking he was a soppy old git.

Suddenly, she was beside him, sitting back down in the seat, hair bouncing on her shoulders, looking sideways at him with one eye open.

"This week is going to be hell." She acknowledged, sighing and leaning back against the dull, uncomfortable upholstery of her seat.

"Tell me about it. On the other hand, at least Grantly will probably do something stupid – maybe he'll get himself locked in the Tower or something." He mused, smiling at her reaction, her nose scrunching up, her perfect white grin revealed as she laughed.

"Yeah, but we're taking Waterloo Road to Buckingham Palace, the theatre and the National Gallery. We'll be viewed with utter contempt by the time we've left." She replied, resigned to the inevitable fact that they would probably be banned from London for the rest of their lives – or at least all of the tourist attractions.

Without warning, there was a great crash from the deck above, swiftly followed by Grantly's shouts of fury, and Matt, Chalky and the students' collective laughter – everyone on the lower deck could only imagine the events unfolding above them.


"Oi, Josh, are your dad and Boston having it off?" Lauren whispered to her best friend as she observed her two teachers in what she thought was an inconspicuous manner – involving her peering over the seats with binoculars she had stolen from Mr. Budgen's pocket earlier.

"Apparently not..." he paused, thinking, "But I reckon they will. Honestly, they flirt like... I don't even know what." He told her frankly, raising his eyebrows suggestively.

She snorted, still spying from her vantage point at the back of the coach. Unexpectedly, the two people she was spying on turned around, and she swiftly hid behind the seat, cringing.

"Oh well done, James Bond." Josh teased, as everyone around them joined in laughing.


"Was I seeing things, or was Lauren just watching us through a pair of binoculars?" Nicki asked, shaking her head in disbelief.

"After ten years at Waterloo Road, nothing would surprise me. They've probably made a plan to bug the hotel rooms – you know, they all think we're having a passionate flipping affair."

She smiled, raising her eyebrows. The silence was awkward; there hadn't been any, other than when they were asleep, for the past four hours, and neither of them was entirely sure how to clamber over the block in the flow of conversation.

Partially because they both knew that they could easily be having a passionate affair; and spending a week in each other's company would test the strength of their willpower.


Hope you enjoyed it – do review – I grin madly whenever I get an email telling me someone's left a review - what can I say; my life is sad! xxx