The Romantic Pact

by Quinn, Meghan

  * * *

  “Good morning,” I say as Crew lifts his head from his pillow and looks around. I’m already showered and ready to go for the day, thanks to my restless sleep last night.

  I spent the early portion of the morning on the couch, looking out our window at the snow-covered rooftops of Würzburg, deciding how I’m going to handle the rest of this trip.

  Yes, I have feelings for Crew. That’s obvious. There’s no stopping those.

  Yes, I miss Pops, and am so thankful for his generosity in sending me to Germany.

  Yes, I’m scared of what’s to come after this trip and what’s supposed to happen to the farm.

  But . . .

  I’m in Germany.

  With a boy who has been a part of my life for as long as I can remember. A friend. A comfort.

  I’m getting glimpses of Pops through letters and pictures and maps.

  I’m exploring a place I’ve never seen before.

  So, I decided I can either sit and be depressed with all the rapid and unsure feelings I’m trying to drift through.

  Or, I can block them out, and like Mia said, enjoy the opportunity.

  I choose to enjoy the moment, even though there might be heartache at the end. I would rather enjoy the here and now, and not worry about the latter.

  “Are you showered?” Crew asks, bringing his palm to his eye, rubbing it carefully. His hair is twisted and pulled in all different directions. It’s one of my favorite parts of the morning, seeing what kind of hair he’s going to wake up with. Today has not been a letdown.

  “Yup, and I already picked out what I want for breakfast.”

  “Well, hell.” He sits up farther so the comforter falls from his chest, exposing his bare and toned torso. “I should probably get in the shower then, huh?”

  “It would be helpful if you smelled nice while we travelled together.”

  His eyes land on mine. “I see you’re back to your sarcastic self.”

  I hold my fingers up, pinching them closely together. “Just a minor speed bump yesterday, but all good here. Ready to give you shit all day.”

  “Lucky me.” He smirks and then throws the covers off. He stands and stretches his arms above his head and, shamelessly, I watch as his abs flex from side to side. “What are you getting for breakfast?”

  “Sausage and eggs,” I say, quickly pulling my eyes away from his body. “I figured I’d order the same for you.”

  “That would be awesome, and some coffee, please. Given you’re already a spitfire this early in the morning, I’m going to need it.”

  “I suggest an espresso to handle me.”

  “Oh, shit.” He chuckles and heads toward the bathroom. “I’ll be quick.”

  While he’s in the shower, I order us food and then start packing up my suitcase for the next hotel. At this point, I leave as much as I can in my suitcase and only take out what I need to because the packing and unpacking is starting to get tiresome. Got to play this road trip smart.

  From my backpack, I pull out the envelope marked “Day Four.” I can’t believe it’s only been four days. Feels so much longer than that, as if we’ve been in Germany for two weeks. Possibly from trying to face all these unspoken feelings and emotions.

  Staring at the envelope, I quietly say, “What do you have planned for us today, Pops? More romantic shit?” I shake my head. “You were always a romantic.”

  The bathroom door opens and I look up to find Crew walking out in nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist and droplets of water hanging from the tips of his unruly hair.

  Yup, thanks a lot, Pops. Why can’t your grandson be average looking?

  “Is that the letter for today?” Crew asks while digging through his suitcase. He pulls out a pair of boxer briefs—these have little hot dogs on them—a pair of jeans, and a long-sleeved Braxton College shirt. It’s a simple outfit, but he’ll still look really good in it. He always looks really good, doesn’t matter the time of day.

  “It is,” I answer as he slips on his boxer briefs under his towel. It’s not the first time he’s performed the magic trick of getting dressed in front of me without showing any private parts. He must do something like it at college to be such an expert and to be so comfortable changing in front of me.

  “Have you opened it?” He slips his jeans on, followed by his shirt, and then he grabs a pair of socks.

  “No, I wouldn’t do that without you.”

  He nods at the envelope and says, “Read it.”

  “I thought you were the narrator of this trip,” I tease.

  “Nah, you should read one. Have at it, Haze.” He smirks and sits on the bed to put his socks on.

  It’s disgusting how quickly guys can get ready for the day.

  With my index finger, I open the envelope and take out the letter. I unfold it carefully and smile to myself as I read out loud. “‘Hey kiddos, hope you had fun in Würzburg. Being the start of the Romantic Road, it holds fond memories for me. Crew, it does for your parents as well, as they went on this trip many years ago. I think you were conceived there.’”

  “What?” Crew grimaces, causing me to laugh out loud.

  “Just kidding,” I say. “I added that myself.”

  Crew points a serious finger at me. “Hey, no improv allowed, or your privileges will be taken away.”

  “Understood.” I smirk and go back to the letter. “‘Today you’re headed to Tauberbischofsheim.’”

  “Glad I didn’t have to read that.” Crew laughs, coming over to me and taking a seat next to me. “Glad I didn’t have to read that after three full glasses of wine, too.”

  “‘This is the home of Germany’s first nunnery, which makes it seem fitting to go to St. Martin’s first thing. It’s a beautiful church in the center of town with gothic architecture that you’ll hopefully appreciate while walking through the quiet and peaceful halls. I know you two aren’t heavily religious, but I do ask that you go into the church and light three candles. One candle for the past—the memories we have with each other, the ones we’ll always cherish. Think of a past memory in that moment, one that brings joy to your heart. Secondly, I want you to light a candle for the present. For the moment you two are able to share on this journey. And the third candle, light that for the future, and what’s to come.’” I look over at Crew and ask, “Have you ever been to a Catholic church before?”

  He nods. “Many times, with Pops. I’ve lit candles before too. I’ll guide you.”

  “Thank you.” I return to the letter, reading out loud. “‘After you offer a little peace and blessing into the world, it’s time to put your competitive hats on because you’re going fencing.’”

  “Fencing?” Crew asks, confused.

  “‘Tauberbischofsheim isn’t just another beautiful stop on the way down the Romantic Road, but it’s also well known in Germany for housing the most famous fencing club in the world. Currently, it’s a training base for Olympic athletes, and I’ve arranged for you to take a lesson and then go to war. This is where you’re to take out any leftover aggressions you might have with each other. Hazel Girl, I know you’re going to destroy Crew. All I ask is that you take it a little easy on him.’”

  “What? No way. I’ll annihilate you.”

  “What makes you think that?” I ask, challenging him.

  “Uh, my superior athletic genes. Pretty sure you don’t even know the difference between a baseball and a tennis ball.”

  “With insults like that, you’re only adding fuel to the fire of my gloating when I do beat you.”

  “It’s cute that you’re so confident.”

  “It’s throw-up-worthy that you’re so condescending.” I turn back to the letter and finish it. “‘All the information you need is attached. Winner gets to pick the other’s dinner. You got this, Hazel Girl. Love you, Pops.’”

  “Oh, I can’t wait to pick the worst thing on the menu for you tonight.” Crew rubs his hands together.

  “You’re woefully
cocky.”

  “Of course I am. This is going to be a piece of cake.”

  There’s a knock on the door, indicating our breakfast has arrived. I stand to answer the door, and as I pass Crew, I pat him on the shoulder and say, “You might want to add a few extra prayers while we’re lighting candles. You’re going to need them.”

  Chapter Ten

  CREW

  “I’ve been in my fair share of Catholic churches, especially while on road trips with Pops. He always liked to stop in one and light a candle for Gloria.” I study the high, pitched ceilings and elegant rose-colored stone that offers height to each pillar. “But I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like this before.”

  Polished wooden pews are lined up row after row, leaving just enough room for an aisle down the middle. The altar is beautifully carved wood with depictions from the Bible highlighted in gold, with stained-glass windows on either side, and a dome-like ceiling. It’s grand, but also humble, with its white plaster walls. A contrast of rich history and architectural detail you don’t see in America.

  “I know I haven’t,” Hazel says in awe, staring up at the tall ceilings. She turns slightly and then says, “Look at the organ.”

  Behind us is a choir balcony with a pipe organ set as a backdrop. It’s grand, and I can only imagine the acoustics they would have in a place like this.

  “I can understand why Pops loved this church so much. He was never a strict Catholic, but he did appreciate a place of worship. Any place—a temple, a synagogue—didn’t matter what was worshipped in between the walls, just that there was love and joy and understanding in every space. This seems like a place where Pops would identify those types of emotions.” Spotting the candles over in the right corner, I point to them and say, “That’s where we need to go.”

  “Okay.” Hazel walks slowly, taking everything in. “Pops has been here, right?”

  “That’s what the letter said.”

  She nods. “Is it weird to say that I can almost feel him with us?”

  “No. I’ve felt him many times on this trip, just didn’t want to say anything and sound . . . I don’t know . . . weird.”

  “That’s not weird at all. I can feel him.” She smiles up at me, those captivating eyes nearly gutting me with one look.

  Last night, hell, I don’t even know what we argued about. I was trying to give her some space. I thought she needed it, but boy was I wrong. That’s not what she needs at all. Instead she needs communication, she needs the small touches, the hugs, the jokes. Hell, I need them too.

  This morning, waking up to her smiling face, it was a relief to know I didn’t utterly fuck things up. The trip to Tauberbischofsheim was fun. A short trip, but we listened to some music, took in the sights, and kept things simple. Normal.

  That’s how it’s been ever since, and I’m grateful because I was nervous that we’d lost our connection, that she was pulling away. It’s no wonder Pops loved her so much. And right now, I cannot ever imagine not having her in my life again. She’s so beautiful, inside and out, and I know I’m a lucky bastard to experience this adventure with her. Thank you, Pops.

  When we step up to the candles, I pull out a long match from a glass jar and take her hand in mine. “We need to kneel.” Together, we kneel on the kneeling pad, and with her hand in mine, I hold up the stick and I say, “Take it with me.” She reaches out her other hand, and we hold it together. “Now we need to light it.” We dip the stick in the candle in front of us and watch the tip ignite. “Pops said three candles. Let’s start with the past. Be grateful for the past, be conscious of how it shaped us, and always keep a memory close to your heart. Do you have your memory?” She nods and, together, we light a candle. “For the past,” I say quietly.

  “Now the present, right?” she asks.

  I nod and hover our hands over the candle that’s next to the one we just lit. “This is for the present, for this moment of being connected again and for connecting with Pops once more.” We light it and then we move over to the third and final candle. “For the future and what’s to come. Let Pops always be there with us and let us always be there for each other.”

  “You and me?” Hazel asks.

  “Yes, you and me, Hazel. Let us always be there for each other.” We light the third candle, and then I lift the stick and blow out the end, depositing it with the rest of the burnt-out sticks.

  We don’t get up right away.

  Instead we kneel silently in front of the candles, and I take this moment to be grateful. To remember that it was a rough year, that I lost my grandpa and my season, blowing my career chances tremendously. I’m lost. I’m sad. I’m unsure of what’s to come, but what I do have is a girl who’s willing to hold my hand in sad times such as this, in meaningful times. I have friends who care about me and my future. I have parents, an uncle and aunt, and five cousins, who would do anything for me. I have a fulfilling life, even if things aren’t going the way I expected. Life might have thrown me some curveballs, but I need to be grateful for what I do have.

  And what I do have should be enough to make any single human happy.

  Friends. Family. A future, no matter what it might be. It’s there, waiting for me to take hold of it.

  Hazel squeezes my hand and when I look over at her, I catch tears in her eyes.

  “You okay?” I ask her quietly, our voices easily echoing in the vast space.

  She nods and wipes a tear off her cheek. “Yeah, I’m good.”

  “Ready to go?”

  “Mind if we just sit in one of the pews for a second?”

  “Not at all.” I help her to her feet and we walk over to pews that are off to the side but still offer a picturesque view of the baroque altar. We take a seat and Hazel doesn’t let go of my hand. Instead she sits close enough to me so she can rest her head on my shoulder. I wrap my arm around her shoulders, then I link my other hand with hers.

  Comfortable silence falls over us as we sit in this awe-inspiring church, the only visitors, taking in the serenity the space offers.

  “It was a humid as hell day,” she says, surprising me. “I was playing out by the big oak tree with that sprinkler that Pops attached to the hose. You know which one.”

  “Yeah.” I chuckle. “Meant for the crops, but he’d hook it up for us and we had to keep enough distance to not get blasted in the head.”

  “That one. I was jumping around, just doing stupid kid things when Pops came up to me with a glass of lemonade and a plate of cookies. He asked me to sit with him and take a break. Cookies of course got my attention. But what he told me stole the attention away.”

  “What did he tell you?”

  “We were staring out at the cornfields and he told me that his grandson was going to visit during the summer and that he expected us to be best friends.”

  “He said that?”

  She nods against my shoulder. “Yup. He said that his grandson from California was my age, and that I needed to teach him what it meant to grow up on a farm. To show him how to ride a horse. To do chores, to appreciate the little things like a gust of wind bristling through the leaves of an oak tree. And in return, he said I would gain one of the best friendships of my life. I had no idea what he was talking about at the time, but I knew when you showed up, I would do exactly what Pops said because I was grateful to him. That was the first summer I got away from my mom and spent time on the farm with Pops and Grandpa Thomas. That summer changed my life and that’s the memory I’m the most grateful for. I didn’t know it at the time, but he was right. I was about to meet a lifelong friend and I’m so glad I did.”

  I lean over and kiss the top of her head. “I’m glad you did too.” Little does she know, I’m so grateful she took me in that summer. Grateful she decided to be my friend, because not only was it life-changing for her, it was life-changing for me.

  “You don’t have to share your memory with me. I just thought you’d want to know.”

  “It was a humid day,” I say, an
d she chuckles. “I just flew in from California, where there’s dry heat, and I remember thinking, why is it so wet outside even when it’s not raining?”

  She laughs some more.

  “That night, Pops told me about this girl and how she was going to be my buddy all summer. I remember thinking a girl . . . no thanks.”

  She chuckles some more.

  “And then he introduced me to you and, God, I was enamored.”

  “Stop. You weren’t old enough to even know what that means.”

  “I wasn’t. I am now, though. I followed you around like a sad puppy, begging for attention. Whatever you did, I wanted to do. And I wanted to do it better.”

  “Of course you did.” I can practically hear the eye roll.

  “But that was the moment I thought about from the past, one that I know changed me for the better. Every summer, you grounded me, brought me back to reality, and I think I’m a better person for it. Hell, I know I’m a better person for it.”

  “Damn right you are,” she teases and lifts up, placing a kiss on my jaw.

  It isn’t an intimate or sexual kiss, it’s supposed to be a comforting kiss—I know that’s how she intended it—but having her that close to my mouth, feeling her lips on my skin, ignites my entire body with a wave of heated awareness.

  I can feel the imprint of her lips on my jaw, the soft, plumpness of them confirming everything I’ve been feeling since I’ve been with Hazel again.

  I like this girl.

  I’ve missed this girl.

  I could see having so much more with this girl.

  But how does one even cross over the line of friendship to something more? We tested the waters yesterday and we all know how that went over. She’s skittish, and I can’t seem to read her mind. Does she want this? Does she not? Either way, I don’t think it matters because, like I said, we’re here to enjoy ourselves and figure out what we’re doing next. I need to stay focused, and make sure Hazel has a wonderful time, putting aside any thoughts of whether or not we’ve a romantic future.