by Lexi Whitlow
“This vacation was the best idea!” Ally says. “Whoever decided on this place is a genius or something.”
“Pure genius. Whoever it was.”
We both laugh, knowing that she was the one to choose Ibiza and set the whole destination vacation thing up. I’m not a person who would choose Ibiza—or any kind of destination. I’d probably pick London just so I could go to all of the museums.
“Don’t you know it,” I joke. “It really is amazing.”
“I can’t wait get in the water. That’s going to be what we do tomorrow. I need a hell of a good tan to take back to Scotland.”
“Hey now, I happen to like it there,” I say a bit defensive.
“I love it there too,” Ally says. “But you have to admit it’s nice to have a break from the constant rain.”
I look around as we walk up to the door of the café. The weather is a perfect blend of warm and breezy, and the sky is a startling blue.
“I guess it’s good to have a break. But I love the rain.”
“Of course you do. You’re a book nerd and the weather is perfect for staying indoors half of the year. However, the rest of us—the normal people—still need sunshine and all the vitamin D we can get.”
I just shrug my shoulders because it’s true. I’d rather have my nose stuffed in a dusty book than be outside doing whatever. I’m more comfortable in the stacks of the library than anywhere else.
Right now, being dressed up and made up like a Barbie doll is so far out of my usual comfort zone. But we’re on vacation and we’re supposed to be acting a little wild, so a little change of the norm is called for.
And today, I’m feeling different.
It’s getting late in the afternoon, and the café is close to closing. That works in our favor since we don’t have to stand in line and wait for a table. We’re overdressed for this place, but neither of us care.
The menu isn’t overly stated—it’s just simple delicious food that makes my mouth water reading the descriptions.
“Would it be wrong if I ordered one of everything?” Ally asks.
“Only if you share with me.” I smile.
We decide to get the drink special that the waiter told us about: a white wine concoction that sounds like it’ll go perfectly with both of our meal selections.
A cute guy checks Ally out as we wait for our food. It’s not surprising because everyone loves Ally, and men left and right are always attracted to her. In her rockin’ dress with the killer body she has? She’s downright irresistible—and smarter as a whip, too.
She wants to work in politics when she graduates, a challenge I can imagine only Ally being set to take on.
It’s spectacular when you think about it. She had a rough life growing up, as a foster kid in Kansas City. She applied for the scholarship to St. Andrews as a way of escaping that and reinventing her life on her terms. Plus, as a kid freshly released from the system, she didn’t have any money saved for college; it was a win-win for her, and for me. She’s more than my best friend—she’s family. I don’t know what I’d do without her.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” she asks with a raised brow.
“I was just thinking of how much you’ve been there for me, especially after the break up with Kirk the Jerk, and I just wanted to say thank you for that. For everything, really.”
Her face softens and she smiles at me. “You don’t have to thank me. I’m your person and it’s my job to take care of you. It’s something I’ll happily do for the rest of my years.”
Now it’s my turn to have a dopey smile.
“Okay, sappy time over,” she jokes as our food is delivered.
“Mmm… This smells so freaking good,” I say. The scent of fresh bread and sautéed mushrooms wafts from my plate. It’s simple, this meal, but pure and gorgeous in its simplicity.
“It does,” Ally says. “You don’t get food this nice in Scotland. Or in Kansas City. I’m damn glad we came to Ibiza instead of yet another museum trip.”
I laugh out loud and sample my food, nodding as I do. “Okay fine, I get it. I’m not the most exciting person in the world. And this is absolutely glorious.”
We start to scarf down our food and there’s not much room for more talking. Once we’ve filled our faces and left happy plates we sit back and finish off our cocktails.
“This is the perfect start to an amazing vacation,” I say.
Ally nods in agreement. “If all the food is as good as this then I’m going to gain twenty pounds while we’re here. You’ll have to buy a boat to send me home because I won’t be able to fit on the plane!”
She’s so dramatic—I love it. We’re dying of laughter as we pay our bill and get up to leave. The guy that was checking Ally out tries to get her attention as we leave but she just ignores him and keeps going.
“Now which direction to the club? I don’t quite remember,” she asks as we’re walking back down the cobblestone street.
“This way I think,” I say and point in the direction that we’re walking in.
It’s a few blocks down and the scenery changes from city center to more residential. “This doesn’t look like the right way,” Ally says skeptically.
“I think you’re right. Maybe we should turn around and go the other way…”
“Good call, Frey.”
We turn around and start back the way we came from. We walk past the café and keep going for a few more blocks. We see all sorts of cool looking storefronts but nothing advertising a club.
“Maybe we should just ask for directions,” I admit in defeat. “I think we might be lost.”
“You think?” She laughs.
It’s a bit unnerving to be lost in a foreign country, but I pull Ally in close to my side, and we walk arm in arm, talking for over an hour as the sun sets and the apartment and shop lights start to come on.
“Look,” she says, pulling me to the sidewalk on a back street. “It’s the club! The one I read about online.”
I look up, and I see lights flickering at the top of one of the buildings. It’s just a bit odd, like Ally herself—a club in the middle of a strange, quiet part of a bustling city. Removed, tucked away—and thumping faintly with dance music.
“Can’t wait,” I say as we step across the threshold to the lobby.
And for the first time in a long time, I mean it.
2
Andreas
Even though the night club is partly outdoors, it’s still hot and cramped with the number of people crammed together. The bass of the house music thumps, and party goers move to the beat in one big sea of body parts. Strobe lights flash and illuminate a set of dancers who are locked in a cage above the crowd, tempting anyone who might look with a sultry peep show.
I stand at the bar with my brother Caelan, trying to get the bartender’s attention when I notice the beauty from the fountain walk in. She’s with a friend and my heart beats straight out of my chest—and she hasn’t even noticed me yet. I take the opportunity to fully check her out. She’s gorgeous. Her tousled short black hair is styled to perfection; her creamy skin and curves that never seem to end are wrapped up tight in a purple dress.
There’s something familiar about her. When I get a better look at her face, I see the soft, natural lines of her face—round cheeks and deep set eyes, a smile that’s at once mischievous and shy. Her eyes are deeply intelligent and sparkling. The way she casually puts her drink down and laughs—a belly laugh, deep and free—gives me a shock of recognition.
She’s the girl from this morning. “Holy shit,” I breathe. That girl. She gave me the brief feeling of escape—something I desperately need these days. And the very real opportunity to get a picture taken with a girl. She might not have seen them—but I knew the paparazzi were there.
That should keep my parents talking for a while.
I grin. I don’t like that I roped her into my fucked up life unwittingly, but I like her. It sounds crazy, but I was hoping to hell I’d
see her again. And somehow, I’m not surprised that she’s standing right there.
I can’t explain it, but I want to explore her more—both her body and her brain. Most of the girls I tend to get set up with are snotty rich girls who think too highly of themselves.
This girl doesn’t seem that way. I can’t prove it.
But she just might be someone worth getting to know.
She was a hell of a good sport about acting like my girlfriend. And the press will be reporting that I’m seeing an American and I can’t let them down, now can I?
I grin slyly, and Caelan gives me a look. “What are you up to now?”
“I don’t know just yet,” I mutter, keeping my eyes on the woman with the sweet, full lips and glinting eyes.
The girls sit at the opposite end of the bar as I get the bartender’s attention. I order bottle service and reserve one of the VIP booths. I don’t usually play the high roller when I’m out, but I want some quiet time with this beautiful girl and I’ll do whatever it takes to achieve that.
“Jesus,” Caelan says. “You’ve got another target.”
“Don’t say it like that,” I growl. “Maybe I met a girl I wanted to get to know.”
“Sounds likely.” Caelan’s voice is dripping with sarcasm, as per usual.
I choose to ignore him and head over to the girl. I’ve met plenty of women through the years, but it seems like I can barely remember their names.
With that thought in mind, I walk over to the girl and stand next to her, taking her in for a moment before I say hello.
Her smell is sweet and floral, almost like roses. Her smile draws me, making me focus on her mouth again. It’s maddening, knowing what she tastes like, or remembering the way her lips moved against mine.
“Hey again,” I say. I hope she hasn’t seen me in any of the few photographs that the reporters have managed to get over the past few years.
We stare at each other, smiling like idiots. Caelan is the one who saunters over and breaks the ice.
“My brother here seems to have forgotten all his manners. Hello, I’m Caelan and this brute here is Andreas,” he says as he shakes the girls’ hands. “Pleasure to meet you,” he directs towards the blonde friend.
Figures—he always goes for blondes.
“I’m Allison, and this is Freya,” the blonde answers in return as she points to the mystery woman. The one I kissed. The thought sends a shiver down my spine.
“Would you like to join us over there?” Caelan points to the corner of the club. “It looks like Andreas booked up a VIP booth. He does that kind of thing because it’s quieter than the rest of the club. Nothing sketchy.”
The girls look questioningly at each other, and Allison smiles.
“Yes, we’d love to,” Allison answers.
Freya looks at me, sending and my heart off again like a wild drum. Her beauty isn’t overly stated but it’s classic and she stands out above the fakeness around her.
We follow Caelan and Allison—who are already talking and laughing—and I take the opportunity to rest my hand on Freya’s lower back as we make our way through the crowded club. I’d like to do a lot more touching but that will have to wait. I want her to want it just as much as I do.
And she will. She most certainly will.
The VIP booths are a U shape with a small table in the center. Caelan and Allison sit on one side and Freya and I sit on the opposite side. I pick up the shaker and pour us four shots to get this night started.
“I definitely need a little liquid courage,” Freya says. “I don’t normally talk to strange men I kissed for—I’m not sure what purpose.”
“I had a purpose.”
“And what was that?” She gives me a mysterious little smile.
“I can’t reveal it unless we’ve had a few drinks.”
Caelan steps in, and just in time. “We have drinks. Let’s toast.”
“And what are we toasting?” I ask.
Allison laughs. “To Kirk the Jerk, may he rot in hell!”
Freya looks shocked that she said that but lifts her shot glass anyway. “To Kirk the Jerk!” she repeats and we all follow suit and down our own shots.
Caelen beats me to the big question. “Who’s Kirk and why is he a jerk?” he asks the girls.
Freya opens her mouth to answer but Allison puts her hand up to stop her. “Kirk was Freya’s long-time boyfriend from back home. She recently found out that he was cheating on her and now we call him Kirk the Jerk.” Ally laughs, and Freya joins in, falling on her friend.
“Oh my God, we sound so dumb,” Freya laughs.
“We do, but I am out of fucks to give. And if these boys don’t like it, they can get the hell out.”
“Glad I asked,” Caelan mumbles.
Ally looks at me with the biggest grin. “Freya is a free agent at the moment, so you better act quick before someone else swoops in and claims her for his own!” She’s giggling when she says this, like it’s the funniest thing in the world.
“Ally is a firm believer in fairy tales and she’s always hoping a prince charming will show up and rescue her or me. Preferably her though,” Freya explains.
Caelan and I share a look, but don’t press the topic.
“Another shot?” I ask, hoping to effectively change the subject.
“Absolutely,” Allison answers.
“Yes, please,” Freya says a second behind her.
We all take the second round, this time cheering to vacations.
As we finish up, and Allison starts to cozy up a little to Caelen, I notice that Freya is quiet. I take the chance while it’s here.
“Do you want to dance?” I ask. Maybe that will break the ice without having to say so many words.
“Oh, definitely,” she quickly agrees.
I take her hand a pull her towards the middle of the dance floor. Even though we’re in the middle of a packed floor, it feels private since everyone is a stranger.
She seems nervous at first, but I love to dance and when I start to move to the beat of the bass, she’s quick to join me. Once she loosens up a little she’s laughing at some of my more outlandish moves, and right then I know that I’d do anything to see her smile so freely like that.
Of course, I’d prefer it if she was under me laughing at something I whispered in her ear, but I’m not sure she’s ready for that.
We continue dancing for what seems like forever, taking a break here and there for more rounds of shots with everyone. We’re hot and sweaty; if we keep it up I’m going to have her naked on the dance floor and I don’t care who sees.
“Want to get some air?” I ask.
She nods her head yes, and we go back to the booth to find Caelan and Allison. The four of us leave the club and head towards the beach to cool off.
It’s in the wee hours of the morning and the cooler breeze feels great as we find a spot to sit down. Freya and I sit and Allison and Caelan decide they want to keep walking.
We’re sitting close, but there’s still too much distance between us for my liking.
“Come on over here,” I say, offering my hand. She takes it and lets me pull her down in between my legs; I wrap my arms around her middle and get comfortable as I rest my head on her shoulder. The smell of roses is back, and I inhale deeply trying to get as much of her as I can.
“So, tell me about Freya,” I say into her hair. I want to know everything about her, what makes her tick.
She sighs and relaxes into my embrace, getting more comfortable. “Where to begin?” She laughs. “I’m twenty-two years old. Born and raised in Denver, Colorado. That’s where my whole family is from and still resides. Allison and I are students at St. Andrew’s in Glasgow, Scotland. We were selected for a four-year international student scholarship program. We’ve been best friends since the first day we met. I’m a history major. I want to work as a museum curator after I graduate.”
“That’s a good start,” I say. “Tell me more about this Kirk the Jerk perso
n, where does he fit in to your story?”
“Kirk and I met in high school, he was my first love, my first everything. We were both awkward nerds and we clicked. When he found out I was going to Scotland, he wasn’t thrilled with me, but he said he loved me and wanted to make it work. I wanted to believe him too. We would talk and email, Skype, and I would occasionally visit but our schedules were completely different, and it was hard to get much face-to-face time with each other. During one of those trips home he proposed, and I said yes. He started to work out and loose his nerdiness and that should have been a sign, but I wasn’t paying attention, and look where that got me.”
I absentmindedly touch her arm, and I want nothing more than to take her pain away and kick Kirk’s ass on her behalf.
“I’m sorry for that,” I tell her, and I’m truly am. “When did you guys split?”
“A couple of weeks ago,” she answers.
“Still fresh?”
She shakes her head. “I’m over it, and I’m over him. I’m tired of wasting my time on him.”
“Why don’t you waste your time on me instead?” I joke.
She laughs, and it’s like music. “You’re smooth as hell.”
“I have my moments.”
“What about you? I’d think with an accent like you’d be from England. You sound like London. Very proper.” She puts on an accent for that last part, and I laugh. It feels free to laugh with her, like it’s something I’ve been waiting for for a long time.
“Close. My family is from Bellecoaste, but Caelan and I spent our youth at a boarding school in Britain and then we went to Cambridge,” I explain.
“Bellecoaste? That’s near France, right?”
“You’d be correct. It borders France actually.” I’m glad that she’s knowledgeable enough to know where Bellecoaste is at—or the vicinity at least. Not many people know much about our home country, which is good in a way. The media only occasionally intrudes on our lives—like they have been recently with me.
“What do you do for a living?”
Her question is such an innocent one but I’m not sure I want to burden her with the particulars of royalty just yet. I want to enjoy my time with her. In this moment, with the champagne buzzing through my body, I just want to be a man talking to a woman he likes. That’s all, and nothing more.