Chapter 1. Meeting in Guca
The August heat in Guča was thick, vibrating with the wild, unbridled energy of the brass festival. I waded through the sea of people, the heavy roar of trumpets pulsing through the cobblestone streets. I was used to the chaos, but tonight, the air felt different. Packed, loud, and intoxicating. On my shoulder, I carried a simple canvas tote bag with bold black letters that read: Blondes have more fun.
"Excuse me," a deep, smooth voice with a distinct American accent drifted over the noise, right next to my ear. "But I just have to know... is it true?"
I turned around, peering behind my glasses to face a tall, incredibly handsome tourist. He had sharp blue eyes, sun-kissed skin, and a helpless, captivated grin that told me he was utterly lost in the Balkan madness—and completely focused on me.
I tilted my head, a playful smile tugging at my lips. "What, the bag? You'll have to find out for yourself, American."
Mark laughed, the sound warm and genuine. "I'm Mark," he said, holding out his hand.
Without another word, Mark reached out, his fingers gently brushing against my wrist before closing around my hand. His touch sent a sudden jolt of electricity straight down my spine. I didn't pull away. Instead, I guided him through the sea of dancing bodies, turning sharply into a narrow, stone-paved alleyway.
The roar of the trumpets instantly became muffled, echoing off the ancient stone walls like a distant heartbeat. Here, the air was cooler, thick with shadows and the heavy, sweet scent of the summer night. Mark backed me gently against the cool stone wall, his large frame completely blocking out the rest of the world.
I looked up, my eyes wide and bright in the dim amber glow of a distant street lamp. My heart was hammering against my ribs—not from fear, but from the sheer, intoxicating thrill of his proximity. He leaned in close, his breath warm against my cheek, his gaze fixing entirely on my lips.
"I think I've officially found the best part of this festival," Mark murmured, his voice a low, rough growl that made my knees go weak.
I laughed softly against his chest, the vibration of my amusement sending a thrill through him. "As tempting as this alley is, Mark, you haven't even seen the real heart of Guča yet. Come on."
Taking his hand, I led him back toward the main square. The energy there was pure, beautiful madness. Right in the center stood the famous Trumpet Player Monument, completely swarmed by ecstatic festival-goers. People were actually climbing up the statue, waving flags, beer bottles raised to the dark sky, while an orchestra at the base played a rhythm so fast it made your pulse race.
"This is insane," Mark yelled over the roar of the brass, a huge, exhilarated grin on his face. "It's like the whole world is on fire!"
"Follow me, I know a shortcut," I called back, my eyes flashing with mischief. I knew every inch of my hometown. I guided him past the crowded stalls, heading just a few blocks away toward the local school and the park.
As we walked into the shadows of the park, the atmosphere shifted instantly. Above us, the steep hill loomed like a dark wall, and at the bottom, the small river murmured softly over the stones. The chaotic roar from the square was still there, echoing through the trees, a constant, wild reminder of the voodoo magic of the night. But here, under the dense canopy, it was beautifully dark—and completely secluded.
I stopped near the riverbank, turning to face him. The distant festival lights caught the edges of my blonde hair, making me look like a siren in the dark. "See?" I whispered, my voice barely louder than the rushing water. "You can still hear the madness... but out here, nobody can see us."
Mark didn't hesitate. He took a step forward, closing the distance between us until I could feel the heat radiating from his body. "Good," he murmured, his hands gently finding my waist, his thumbs tracing the bare skin just above my denim shorts. "Because I don't want to look at the festival anymore, Elena. I just want to look at you."
