Page 47 of Star Rucked Lovers

“Love you too, darling,” Julie said, blowing a kiss to the screen before the call ended.

“See? Told you she’d love you,” George said, turning to Myst with a triumphant grin.

“She’s amazing,” Myst admitted, her eyes still glued to the now-blank screen. “And your accent gets even stronger when you talk to her. It’s adorable.”

“Oi,” George protested, though his grin only widened. “You better watch it, or I won’t buy you that souvenir at the souk.”

The next morning, Myst and George strolled side by side through the bustling Old Souk. The air was thick with the mingling scents of saffron, oud, and freshly baked flatbreads. Vendors called out in melodic tones, their voices weaving through the vibrant tapestry of colours around them, from tacky plastic souvenirs to bolts of silk, intricate lanterns, and rows of glittering jewellery.

“Look at this one,” Myst said, stopping abruptly at a stall displaying delicate silver bracelets. She picked one up, the tiny filigree patterns catching the light as she turned it over in her hands. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

“Not bad,” George said, squinting at it as if appraising its quality. “But you’re supposed to haggle, aren’t you? Go on, then.”

“Me? Oh, I’m terrible at haggling,” Myst said with a laugh, but the mischievous glint in her eye told another story. She turned to the vendor, her expression suddenly serious. “Alright, how much for this bracelet?”

“Three hundred dirhams,” the man replied with a practiced smile.

“Three hundred?” Myst gasped, clutching her chest dramatically. “I could buy half a plane ticket for that!”

“Half a very small plane,” George quipped under his breath, earning a sharp elbow to the ribs.

“One fifty,” Myst countered, ignoring him. “And I’ll throw in a signed CD.”

“Two hundred,” the vendor said after a moment, clearly entertained by her antics. “No play CDs. Use Spotify.”

George had to laugh at that. Myst elbowed him again.

“Stop it, you’re not helping. One seventy five, final offer!”

The vendor seemed happy with that price, nodding and holding his hand out.

“Deal,” Myst declared before turning to George with a smug grin. “See? Not terrible.”

“Not bad at all,” George admitted, handing over the cash before Myst could reach for her wallet. He clasped the bracelet around her wrist himself, his large hands gentle. “There. A souvenir for when you miss me.”

“Cheeky,” Myst said, but her tone was soft as she admired the bracelet, her fingers brushing lightly over the cool metal. “Thank you.”

“Anytime,” George said, dropping a kiss on the top of her head before steering her toward the next stall.

By afternoon, they were drifting along Dubai Creek in a traditional abra boat, the city’s towering skyline reflected in the shimmering water around them. Myst leaned against George’s side, snapping selfies as he tried, and failed, to keep his eyes open against the glare of the sun and the jetlag which was beginning to make its effects felt.

“Alright, mate,” he said to the boat operator after a while. “What’s the most authentic dish I should try?”

“Machboos,” the man answered without hesitation. “It’s chicken and rice,” he elaborated when George asked the question.

“Sounds good,” George said, though the moment the plate arrived at their dinner table that evening, he hesitated. “Uh… is it supposed to look like that?”

“Don’t be rude,” Myst chided, laughing as she watched him poke at the fragrant rice and spiced meat with his fork. “At least try it.”

“Fine,” George grumbled, taking a cautious bite. His face twisted immediately, and Myst doubled over in laughter.

“Not a fan?” she managed between giggles.

“Let’s just say my taste buds weren’t ready,” George said, pushing the plate toward her. “Your turn.”

“Gladly,” Myst said, taking a bite and humming appreciatively. “Mmm, delicious. Guess that’s why they call ittastebuds, you have to actually have some.”

“Alright, alright,” George said, rolling his eyes but unable to hide his grin. “Just don’t tell Mum, yeah? She’ll never let me live it down.”

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