by Jinsey Reese
ME: What’s up?
PAIGE: We’ve picked a date for the wedding. You’ll be there, right?
ME: Of course. I’m the maid of honor, right? (Wait. Don’t answer that unless it’s YES.)
PAIGE: YES. (And I’m not just saying that because I’m under duress.) (Or at least not entirely.)
ME: Haha. So, when’s the Big Day?
PAIGE: Saturday.
ME: Umm…
PAIGE: KIDDING. July 17th. (For reals, this time.)
ME: Wow…that’s not even a month away.
PAIGE: I know. Sorry. I just wanted to get married AFTER all the vomiting and BEFORE the big belly. Pics will be more flattering. Plus it’s summer, so all of our friends can make it before classes start or they get real jobs. Just seems like the best time to have a wedding.
ME: Very Practical of you. Wait, am I still talking to Paige?
PAIGE: Hahaha…I’m dying laughing. Or Not. So, the 17th? Do you mind cutting your trip short? I hate to ask you, and if you don’t want to, I’ll understand. I’ll miss you being there but I’ll totally understand—it’s your dream trip, I know.
July 17th.
That meant I’d be facing my mother a lot sooner than I’d planned.
Oh. Dear. God.
It also meant I’d have to leave Asher in less than a month. That wasn’t any time at all.
I paused, my fingers hovering over my phone. But I really didn’t have a choice. She was my best friend. I had to be there.
ME: Of course, I’ll be there. With bells on. (Maybe even literally. Italian bells. Or Jingle Bells. I’ll have to work on it.)
PAIGE: YAY! (But nix on the bells. They won’t go with the large pink bows all over your dress.)
ME: You better be kidding about that.
PAIGE: Can you try to come back the week before so we can do a little wedding stuff?
ME: Yeah, okay. I’ll let you know what date. And the dress better not be pink and fluffy…
PAIGE: Mwah! Love you!! See you in July!
ME: Paige??? PAIGE???
She didn’t answer again and I put my phone down without even looking at my other messages as realization truly dawned.
Three weeks. If I went back the week before, I had to leave in three weeks.
I walked over to the window and looked out over the fields. A breeze tickled the large grape leaves, sending them wriggling in the quiet peace of the afternoon sunshine while my world felt like it was crashing down on me, one shitty boulder at a time.
I was going to miss out on two whole months in Europe. Most of my trip. That sucked so much in and of itself.
And I would be back home, facing my mother, trying to wrestle control of my life from her grasp.
And I would be leaving Asher, which was crushing me the most. I was going to lose everything that was good in my life. In three short weeks.
“Hey,” he said, coming up from behind and wrapping his arms around me. “What’s wrong? Is everything okay with Paige?”
I nodded. “She was making sure I could come to her wedding.”
“When is it?”
“July seventeenth.”
Asher was silent, and I stared out at the endless vineyards wishing I knew what he was thinking.
“I have to go,” I whispered. “She’s my best friend, Asher. And she really wants me to be there.”
“And you should be,” he said. “You should always follow your heart, Skye.”
I just wanted to cry, and a part of me also couldn’t believe what I was about to say.
“About tonight,” I said, “I don’t know if we should—”
“No,” he said, “you’re right. We probably shouldn’t if we only have a month.”
He agreed so easily. And I wasn’t sure whether I was grateful or heartbroken at that. He was being such a gentleman and was making this easy on me, and I appreciated that so very much. But it hurt that it didn’t seem hard for him.
And so maybe this was for the best. Whatever was happening between us obviously meant more to me, and he did have an ex-girlfriend waiting to rekindle things. So I was more likely to be the one hurt in the end.
It was better this way. And if I kept telling myself that, there was a remote chance I might actually start to believe it.
Our romantic picnic now felt morose. At least to me. I was so bummed by the change in plans and couldn’t pull myself out of it. Paige knew I was traveling until the middle of September, and she could have waited until then, and okay, yes, that did piss me off a little bit. But I couldn’t expect her to plan her life around mine. And I could understand her wanting to get married as soon as possible. But I was still upset with her timing.
After moping my way through dinner and then into the shower, I was already curled up, my back to Asher’s side of the bed when he slipped under the sheets. He slid over, reached his arm around, and pulled me close against him.
“Hey,” he said, his voice soft and low right next to my ear. “You still have a month to go wherever you want, right? Don’t let this ruin your trip.”
“It’s three weeks,” I said quietly. “She wants me to come back a little early because I’ll be in the wedding party.” And I couldn’t help but notice he was speaking about me alone. Not us. The backs of my eyes started to sting.
“Do you not want to travel with me anymore?” I said.
“What?” Asher said, and turned me toward him. I couldn’t look at him—I just stared at his bare chest. “You think I wouldn’t want to be with you just because we’re not going to sleep together? Geez, Skye. Give me a little more credit than that.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, and the tears I’d been trying to hold in started to slide down to my nose.
“Oh, god. Don’t apologize. Look at me, Skye,” Asher said, and I lifted my gaze to meet his. “I like you. I’m having an amazing time because of you. I would not be having Twice the Fun if I hadn’t spotted you at the train station in Paris.”
As he’d talked my eyes had drifted down to his lips. I couldn’t look away. All I wanted to do was kiss him, but I couldn’t. What I wanted was right in front of me and I couldn’t have it.
“Skye, you’re killing me,” Asher whispered, and he leaned forward and pressed his lips to mine.
A little sob escaped as I opened my mouth to welcome him, my tongue tasting his. I reached for him then, and his arms wound around me. He ran one hand down my thigh and pulled my leg up over his hip, sending me pulsing.
His hands slid up my back, under my shirt, stroking my skin, pulling me closer as he deepened the kiss. Then he pulled away from my lips, buried his face in my neck and sighed.
“Fuck, this is hard,” he whispered, then pressed a kiss onto my collar bone. He traced the line of it with his tongue and I shivered with pleasure. He lifted his head and lay back on his pillow, his arms still holding me tight.
I wound my arms around him, aching for him all over, feeling completely unsatisfied and wholly happy that this might be as hard for him as it was for me. I was a contradiction all unto myself.
“What am I doing with you, Asher?” I said quietly. “I don’t even know you. This isn’t like me at all.”
“You know me.”
“Not enough.”
“Better than most,” he said, and I could hear the smile in his voice. His fingers skimmed the length of my arm, giving me chills.
“You could totally be a covert assassin, for all I know, masquerading as a Really Nice Guy.”
“Nah,” he said. “You would have picked up on that by now if I was.”
“You think?”
“Absolutely. The fact alone that I haven’t killed you yet says something.”
“You could just be biding your time, waiting for the opportune moment.”
He laughed. “You don’t think I’ve had plenty of those? I have you alone in a foreign country. Can’t get more opportune than that.”
I smiled into his side and tightened my arms around him.
�
��So, where are we going next?” he said. “Since you’re limited on time, you should choose our destinations.”
“I thought you wanted to go to Sicily.”
“That was Josh’s big thing, not mine. And I can go there after—” He cut himself off. Not finishing the sentence, but I still heard the words in my head—after you leave. I tried to ignore them. “…if I really want to. But I’d rather go with you.”
That warmed me from the inside out. And I thought about it. I had three weeks and a continent of countries to choose from. Where did I really want to go?
sixteen
The next day we took a bus to Milan and caught the train to Bern. Stepping out under a dark blue sky that was deepening into night, we went straight to the hostel. The streets glowed with lamps casting warm light on the cobblestones&mdas;the Swiss city was absolutely gorgeous at night and I couldn’t wait to see it during the day.
As soon as we approached the front desk at the hostel, I realized I didn’t know what to ask for. Things had changed, hadn’t they? I glanced at Asher. Though maybe they hadn’t. We weren’t a couple. Not really. But what I really wanted was to share a room with him. I didn’t want to stay in the dorm amidst strangers. Sure, they were likely to be friendly and interesting, but it’s not what I wanted anymore. Two nights together in Barolo had spoiled me. But I had no idea what he wanted.
The lady looked at us, then said, “Dorm?”
I looked at Asher and shrugged, so he turned to her and said, “Sure.”
And my heart sank. I took my key and trudged up the stairs to the girls’ dorm. A shower later, I felt a little better. I also realized I was in desperate need of clean clothes, and thanked the travel gods that this hostel had a laundry room.
We had a quiet dinner and then went to our respective dorms. Tomorrow morning I’d get up early and do laundry, because tonight I was tired and feeling sad. Did it really matter if we were in separate rooms? I kept telling myself it shouldn’t since we were spending every day together. But I wasn’t convinced.
And it sucked. I missed the feel of Asher next to me. Instead I was consumed with a stark emptiness. I spent the entire night tossing and turning, never finding a comfortable position, never falling into the warm embrace of sleep. When I finally couldn’t stand laying awake in that bunk another minute, I got up, grabbed my pack, and went down to the laundry.
It was empty, which was no big surprise at five o’clock in the morning, and smelled faintly like flowery soap. The hostel was completely quiet—almost eerily so—and I lifted the lid on the washing machine as quietly as I could to throw in my few clothes. Which was silly, of course, because the laundry wasn’t near the dorms, so it’s not like I was going to wake anyone. And I was also about to turn the machine on. But still. I felt the need to be quiet in the deep silence of early morning.
Footsteps echoed down the hall behind me and I turned to see Asher walk in.
“Great minds, huh?” he said, as he came over to peer into my machine. It was not even half full—when you carried your stuff with you everywhere, you had to travel light.
“You wanna share?” I said. He nodded and tossed his clothes in with mine. Our combined stuff still didn’t fill it. I poured in the little box of detergent I’d bought out of the vending machine, shut the lid, put coins in, and started it. Then I pulled myself up to sit on top of the other washer and looked at Asher with a ridiculous grin on my face. He looked tired and sad this morning, and I wondered about it, but I couldn’t help feeling positively giddy at the sight of him.
“What?” Asher said, walking over to stand in front of me.
“I’m just happy to see you,” I said, feeling silly for saying it to him, but it was true.
“How’d you sleep?”
“Like total crap.”
“Me, too,” he said. “I missed you.”
My stomach fluttered. “You did?”
“Yeah.” He nodded and stepped between my knees, running his hands up my thighs to rest on my hips. I had to focus on breathing calmly. “I slept so much better in Barolo than I did last night. Than I have since Josh died, actually.”
“You know, I saw their rates last night, and it would be cheaper for us to share a room. The double bed private rooms are a better value for two.”
One corner of his mouth lifted. “That’s an incredibly Practical Suggestion,” he said, and the smile reached his eyes, crinkling the skin at the edges. They looked more blue than grey today, his eyes. I loved how they changed colors from day to day.
“I’m a Very Practical Person,” I said, sliding my hands up his bare arms.
“I can see that.” He leaned in. My heart beat wildly—a rhythm just for Asher—and I started to close my eyes when someone cleared his throat behind him.
“Excuse me,” the guy said. “But are you using this other washer?”
“It’s all yours,” I said, and scooted over to my washing machine. Asher came with me and I buried my burning face in his shoulder, giggling as I hugged him.
“Harry,” the guy said, his hand extended. He was from the UK and had the most delicious accent. Yes, I have a thing for British accents. But doesn’t EVERYONE? Seriously. I could have listened to him all day.
Asher kept himself planted between my legs the whole time, though he turned around to talk to Harry. I couldn’t help noticing he seemed to be staking some sort of claim. And I was totally okay with that.
“When did you arrive?” Harry said.
“Last night,” I said. “We haven’t explored yet, but the place practically twinkled when we got in. I can’t wait to see it today.”
“It’s a fantastic place,” Harry said. “There’s swimming in the river over by the Parliament building. And I trekked to Emmental yesterday—there are cheese and bell makers amongst the rolling hills, with the absolutely stunning Alps in the distance. Gorgeous town.”
“Bell makers? Really?” I said.
“You can even forge your own.”
“No. Way.” I suddenly knew exactly what I wanted to get Paige for a wedding gift. I poked Asher. “We’ve GOT to go there.”
“You have a thing for bells?” he said.
“Nope. I have a thing for ridiculous gifts for a friend who’s getting married.”
“Then I’m totally in.”
As soon as our clothes were dry, we stuffed them into our packs and went to the front desk to reserve our private room. I couldn’t stop smiling the whole time. I knew nothing was going to happen, but I was just happy that I would be spending not only my days, but also my nights with Asher.
We went out in search of a café for breakfast—I’m pretty sure we drank an entire pot of coffee between the two of us—and sat out in the morning sun watching the rest of the town come to life. It looked like it was going to be a gorgeous day, and we talked over the pamphlets we’d picked up at the hostel.
“How about swimming today?” Asher said, pulling at his t-shirt already in the rising warmth.
“Perfect,” I said. “And maybe a raft tour of the Aare?” I pointed to a brochure. “And tomorrow bells.” I looked up at him and there was a soft smile on his face. “Oh! And I need chocolate. We’re in Toblerone country here. It’s a Must.”
“I’m not going to argue with that.”
“That’s good because it would be a big ol’ waste of energy.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because you TOTALLY wouldn’t win. Hello, Chocolate.”
He lay his arm across the back of my chair and his fingers drew circles very lightly on my shoulder. The tiny movement sent shivers of pleasure through my body and my breath caught. How could such a small, simple thing affect me like that?
“You’re cute,” he said, and I realized I’d been wrong—he’d TOTALLY win over chocolate. EVERY time. His smile faded and his face got really serious. “I should call my parents later,” Asher said.
He seemed a little off today. He’d gone in and out all morning. Most of the time he seemed fi
ne, normal, but then something would happen, his mask would slip and I’d see the sadness underneath. It was stronger today, his sadness.
“You okay?” I said.
He stared at his coffee cup, played with the crumbs on his plate.
I waited.
“Today is Josh’s birthday,” he finally said in a heartbroken voice. “We should have been celebrating together somewhere in Europe. Probably on some idiotic quest.” He laughed, but it sounded hollow and sad.
I took his hand and sandwiched it between mine. I had no idea how to handle this, and almost felt as if I was intruding in some way.
“Do you want to go off on your own today? I can do my own thing if you need some time to yourself.”
Asher looked at me, shocked. “No,” he said. “That’s the last thing I want. It’s hard enough to deal with the thoughts in my head. Being with you helps.”
That was the best thing anyone had ever said to me and I couldn’t help but smile. I glanced down at the brochures on the table and had an idea.
“Hey, what would you say to spending the day doing things Josh would have wanted to do?”
He stared at me in silence for a few seconds, his eyes wide, mouth slightly open. Then he smiled. “I’d say that’s the best idea I’ve heard all day.”
“Well, my friend,” I said with a wicked grin, “the day is young and I am FULL of brilliant ideas.”
He laughed and said, “I’d say you’re full of something, all right.” And I reached over to hit him, which only made him laugh harder. It was a good sound.
We walked while Asher talked about Josh. We stood under the clock tower to watch it ring in the hour, visited the house where Albert Einstein had lived (turns out Josh had been a huge fan), and climbed to the top of this huge Gothic cathedral with a spire that towered three hundred feet above the city. It had an amazing view—we could see the river Aare swooping through the old city, and off in the distance, the Alps. Asher and I stayed there for a long time, looking and talking.
“Josh was afraid of heights,” he said.
“So he wouldn’t have come up here?”
“No, he probably would have because he’d have wanted to see the view—he always wanted to try EVERYTHING. And he was great at facing his fears.” He laughed softly. “Though it’s not like it helped him get over them, but he never let anything stop him from doing or experiencing, you know? He was so full of life. More so than anyone else I’ve ever known.” He was silent as he looked out at the city below us. The rust-colored rooftops had little spires sprinkled here and there amongst them. “It was something I always admired about him. Even as kids. In so many ways I wanted to be like him.”