by L. R. Olson
I grin. “Well, don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t pass up a million dollars. But yes, I prefer something smaller. More delicate. Less…showy.”
He’s looking at me as if he can’t quite figure me out. “You are different.”
I release a huff of air, something between a snort and a laugh. Is that a compliment? I’m not sure, and not positive I want to know. “My mom’s an artist. I just know what’s valuable. What’s important. It’s not how much something is worth, it’s how much love and attention someone puts into it.”
He doesn’t speak, but he looks thoughtful again. He’s trying to understand me. To assess my sincerity. It makes me uneasy. I clear my throat and straighten away from him. “Ready?”
He nods. I don’t wait, but start up the narrow set of stairs that curl up to the rooftop. I don’t dare look down to see if he follows, and send my balance into a tailspin. Besides, I can feel him behind me, the strength of his body, the heat. And I know if I fall, he’ll catch me. It’s oddly reassuring.
He’s nice. He’s a gentlemen. He’s smart. All these thoughts tumble through my mind one by one. But none of that should really matter. This is a one-night stand. Sure, he’s boyfriend material. But not for me. For some other lucky woman. All that matters is if I’m attracted to him. If he’s attracted to me. And if I go by that kiss…things are happening just as I hoped.
We step out onto a platform that goes around the outside of the tower, but before I can get a look, he slides his arm around my waist, stopping me. I freeze, my back pressed to his chest. I can’t see him, but I feel every muscle in his hard body. “You’re saying if a man gave you a five carat diamond necklace you wouldn’t be impressed?”
I release a nervous laugh. Why does this bother him so much? Maybe he’s had a bad experience with women wanting him for his money. Is he wealthy? Or maybe he doesn’t have much cash, that’s why he works. “No. I’m not a fan of big jewelry.”
He turns me slowly so I’m cushioned against his body and we’re staring into each other’s eyes. It’s as if he’s trying to read the truth in my gaze. I have a handful of years left if I’m lucky. Why would I care about a damn five carat diamond?
The only thing I care about in this moment is him. The feel of his hand pressed possessively against my lower back, the way he looks at me as if I’m a mystery he wants to solve, and his wonderful, intoxicating scent.
“Excuse me,” someone says.
He tears his gaze from me. His hand slides away. We shift to the side as the guy passes by. The moment is broken. I turn and look at the landscape. Copenhagen is spread out before us. Rooftops. Church spires. Cobbled streets. Christian steps close to me. I’m determined to focus on the view. The ocean in the distance. Windmills close to shore. Even the cruise ships.
Yes, it’s beautiful, but damn if my attention doesn’t keep going back to him. I’m completely aware of his body behind me. The warmth and strength of him. His amazing scent.
“You’re right, this is the perfect place to start.” For a long moment we don’t speak, merely stand there staring out at the city. The breeze has cooled and it whips my hair around my face, tickling my highly sensitive neck. Would his touch feel just as sweet? I shiver just thinking about it. “It’s beautiful.”
“There are higher outlooks, but I like this one. Been here since the university started. For hundreds of years students have climbed this tower.”
For the first time in a long while, I wonder what it would be like to go to college. To have that heady rush of freedom. Probably similar to what I’m feeling here, now, for this short time. But I shut the feelings down, locking them away. I learned long ago there’s no use in wondering what could be. As I’m studying the scenery below, I can feel him studying me.
“That’s where I’m staying.” I point to the building down the road. “Third floor. The one with the pink flowers by the windows.”
He nods. “I live two blocks away with three roommates. We all go to the same school.”
Boldly, I turn to face him, the tall railing at my back. Why did he ask me out? I don’t dare speak the question aloud; I don’t want to hear him say that I’m just so sweet and fragile looking, he couldn’t resist. True story, Matias once said it felt like he was taking care of a porcelain doll. I now hate dolls. He looks at me, studying my features, his own lop-sided smile slowly comes into focus. I love his hair. It’s thick and messy, in a completely fashionable way.
“There’s something very interesting about you. Something I can’t quite put my finger on,” he says.
My smile is falling, and it takes superhuman strength to keep my lips lifted. Here it is. Please, please don’t say I’m fragile. That I look like a doll. “What’s that?”
“Strength,” he says, shocking me. “You radiate this calm strength that makes you seem older than what you are. It’s like…you know something the rest of us don’t.”
I’m stunned. No one has ever said I radiate strength. They’ve looked at me with worry in their gaze, they’ve clucked their tongue in dismay, even tucked me into bed like I’m a toddler. But I am strong, damn it all. I’m the strongest person I know. How funny that it took a stranger to see the truth.
I slide a loose lock of hair behind my ear, at a loss as to how to respond. “Well, I’m not sharing any secrets to life, if that’s what you’re after. I’m saving that for my book.”
“No.” He laughs and wraps his arm around my waist. “I’m not after the secrets of life. I’m just… after you. That’s all.”
Damn, he’s good. I flush with pleasure and have to bite my lip to keep from giggling. God, I am a middle school child stuck in a nineteen year old’s body.
He reaches up and holds onto the bars of the fence behind us, trapping me between his arms. “Am I too blunt?”
“No. I like honesty.”
“Good.” He lets go of the fence and we walk around the perimeter of the tower like we’re a couple out site-seeing. We don’t speak, but I realize we don’t need to. There’s a natural ease between us that surprises, as much as it delights me. It’s as if I’ve known him for a long while. Hopefully it will make things more comfortable when we sleep together.
When we head back toward the narrow, spiral stairs, I hesitate, panicking for a moment. Just looking down makes me dizzy. Can I make it? Or will I fall on my face and ruin his image of me as a strong woman?
“I’ll go first,” he says. “Just hold onto the railing with one hand, and press the other to my back.”
He doesn’t wait for praise. He helps me because he’s probably the sort of guy who instinctively takes care of others. He steps down first. Having him in front eases the tension winding through me. I grip the railing with one hand and place my other on his strong back. He’s warm and muscular under my touch.
We start down the steps. “Ready for the next stop?”
“Where would that be?” I ask, trying to concentrate on the steps. The world below me is wavering in and out of focus, but he’s steady and sure under my hand. He’s the sort of person you can rely on. What if he’s not the sort of guy who has one-night stands?
“I was thinking…ice cream.”
I cringe. “I hate ice cream.”
He laughs, the sound echoing against the walls. “Really?” He turns as he makes it to the ground. Before I can prepare myself, he grips my waist, lifting me and bringing me to the floor as if I weigh nothing. “Who doesn’t like ice cream?”
I flush, realizing I sound like a total downer. I might as well say I hate puppies, kittens and rainbows. “Milk doesn’t agree with me.”
Yes, let’s make it seem like I have digestive issues, because that’s completely romantic. But I can’t tell him the truth. I can’t tell him that I was fed so many popsicles and ice cream while sick, that just the thought of them makes my stomach churn. Everyone likes ice-cream. You’d have to be a complete sociopath to not like ice-cream.
He takes my hand. “Alright…coffee and pastries then?”
> It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him I prefer tea, but that might be pushing it. We start down the twisting incline. “Sounds good. Just nothing with almonds.”
“Exactly.” He squeezes my hand. “And nothing with milk.”
We move by that little room where he kissed me. I can’t help but wonder if tonight will lead to another check off my bucket list. And then what? Say goodbye, move on? I don’t make connections, I don’t bond with people easily. There’s no reason to bond when I’ll be gone soon. But the thought of never seeing him again makes me oddly sad. “We are pathetic.”
“Indeed.”
We step out into the warm sun. The tourists are thick but it doesn’t matter because I made it to the top. I made it, and I’m still alive. “Do you have a café in mind?”
But he’s not looking at me. He’s pulled his phone out of his pocket. He’s gotten a call. I see the photo of a gorgeous blond on the screen right before he shoves it back into his pocket. A cold wash of reality blankets me. I’m not exactly experienced in the dating department, but I’m also not naïve. We’ve just met. He’s twenty-three and hot. Of course he’s dating other women.
“This way,” he says, leading me down a road. But things have changed. He’s not smiling anymore. His gaze isn’t on me, but on some point in the distance, as if his mind is preoccupied. I feel as if this date has just taken a nosedive off the tower, and I’m not sure how to fix it.
“So,” I say almost desperately, trying to keep the momentum going. “What other sites do I need to see?”
“Well, there’s…” He pauses and pulls out his phone again. I don’t miss the way his lips tighten. He lets go of my hand. I feel like a wall has just been built between us. “Sorry.”
This time it’s a text. I’m not sure whether to be annoyed, frustrated or just depressed. Damn this woman! Who the hell is she? “Everything okay?”
Hello, trying to get laid here, I want to snap.
“I’m so sorry,” he stuffs his phone into his back pocket. “But I have a family issue. I have to go.”
Family my ass. I’m not surprised when he doesn’t meet my gaze, because I’m pretty sure he’s lying. My stomach sinks. I can handle him dating other women. I can’t handle being dumped in the middle of our date for one of those women. “Oh, okay.”
He leans forward and kisses me on the cheek. Just a brush of his lips. A sweep of his scent. But it’s a friendly kiss. Something European. He’s in a rush to leave. “You’re okay getting home?”
I nod, still confused by the turn of events.
“Good. Have a great trip.”
And with that, he’s gone, weaving his way through the crowds. Stunned, I watch him until he turns a corner and disappears. “Have a great trip? Are you freaking kidding me?”
I’m not sure if I want to cry or laugh. Not have a great day, or I’ll see you later. Have a great trip…as in it was nice knowing you. And I realize in that moment that I’ll probably never see the bastard again.
“Was I just dumped?” I mutter. “But…we weren’t even dating.”
Chapter 5
Celebrate my Birthday in Europe
Try not to vomit on my Birthday
“So, he got a text and then scurried off, no explanation?”
I nod. Gabrielle and I are curled up on the couch chatting while watching BBC because it’s in English. She was out late last night at some blogger gathering and slept in this morning. I spent my day resting after the hike up the tower, my very own Everest.
This is the first time I’m getting to talk to her. She cups her coffee mug in her hands. Although she hasn’t gotten much sleep, she still manages to look fresh, cute in her yoga pants and sweatshirt that says c’est la vie. How does she do it?
“His attitude totally changed, too.” I sip my tea as I glance out the windows. It’s getting dark. Another day gone. It’s going by too fast. And the harder I try to cling to it, the quicker it seems to fade. The thought of returning home and to reality depresses me. “He was so flirty, and then…cold. Gone. No real explanation. I don’t want a relationship. I mean…I live across the ocean, and I’m going…”
The words almost slip out. I’m going to die.
“I’m going to leave soon. I just want a fling.”
She laughs.
I cringe. “Does that make me sound horrible?”
“Not at all.” She sighs. “I’m sorry to say it, but he probably has a girlfriend.”
I sink into my corner of the couch, cozy in my worn Florida sweatshirt and sweatpants. My go-to comfortable hospital outfit. I don’t know why I don’t throw it out. It’s just a reminder. But maybe deep down, I need that kick in the butt, a nudge that my time is limited. Or maybe I just want the comfort of the familiar. “That’s what I feared.”
“Sorry.”
A cool breeze sweeps in through the open window, stirring the curtains like flapping birds. “Better to know, right? I want a fling, but I’m not about to sleep with some guy who has a girlfriend. I’m not taking that with me.”
“Exactly. Don’t need bad karma.” She takes a drink. Her hair is pulled up into a bun atop her head, while little baby curls frame her heart-shaped face. “Besides, there are so many hot guys here. I’ll totally hook you up with one!”
I smile. There isn’t time to waste. If I want to lose my virginity, I have to find someone soon. But thinking of hooking up with another guy just isn’t appealing at the moment. Only god knows why, but I really liked Christian. Stupid me. “Okay.”
She launches into a description of the guys she knows in the area. Even though I’m bummed about Christian, I can’t help but smile at the possibilities. The murmur of city life seeps in through the open windows. I love it here. Even love sharing this apartment with Gabrielle, a woman I just met. She’s sweet, kind, and I wish we could be friends.
“And then there’s Charlie, from England. You like an English accent, right? Stupid question, who doesn’t. He’s like a twenty-five year old Idris Elba and…”
The door buzzes, startling us both.
Gabrielle shakes her head. “Not for me.”
It buzzes again. Who the hell would be visiting? Maybe Mom had something delivered for my birthday. But it’s too late for deliveries. I set my tea cup on the coffee table and head to the door. Maybe Heidi finally had enough of her French guy. I push the intercom button. “Hello?”
“Hope?”
It takes a moment for me to recognize his voice. Or maybe I’m just so shocked that it doesn’t register right away. “Christian?”
I jerk my gaze toward Gabrielle who is watching with wide-eyed interest. She has nothing to offer. It’s obvious she’s just as surprised as I am. I return my attention to the intercom, my heart hammering so hard that at first it’s difficult to speak. “How did you know where I live?”
“You told me…at the tower?”
“Oh, right.”
Gabrielle lifts her brows suggestively, grinning. She’s enjoying this way too much. I’ve become the night’s entertainment.
“Do you have plans this evening?” he asks.
“Umm…” Frantic, I look at Gabby. She merely shrugs. Do I? “No. Not really.”
“Well, that’s just sad. It’s your birthday after all.”
Gabrielle is suddenly at my side. “Your birthday?” she whispers. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
He remembered. Despite the fact that I’m annoyed with him for running off so early on our date, a slow smile lifts my lips. He remembers that it’s my birthday.
“Be down here in ten,” he says. “I’ll be waiting.”
“But…” the buzzer is dead. He’s gone. I race to the window and see him sitting on a bench. A tiny part of me wants to ignore him after the way he treated me the other day. Most of me wants to go out, live a little. See that crooked smile. Feel his hands on my hips. His lips on mine just once more…
“You are totally going,” Gabrielle says for me. Despite my noncommittal murmur of denia
l, she grabs my hand and pulls me away from the windows. “It’s your birthday!”
She has a point.
“But…” She drags me toward my room. “Gabrielle, he has a girlfriend.”
“We don’t know for sure. Ask him tonight. If he does, then just be friends.”
I resist the urge to roll my eyes. Yeah, right, just friends. She’s opening my backpack, tossing aside a t-shirt, a pair of jeans…
Dare I go out with him? I tear my sweatshirt over my head. “Yeah, because so many guys just want to be friends. Besides, I don’t have anything to wear. One dress, but it’s too boring.”
“Okay.” She grabs my hand and pulls me out the door and into her room. “Then you’ll wear something of mine.”
I give her a look. “Are you joking? You have curves while I…am me.”
But she’s ignoring me, searching through the closet where she’s hung all of her fashionable clothes, while my lumps of unfashionable outfits remain stuffed in my backpack and on the floor.
“Gabrielle, you really don’t have to—”
“Yes. This!”
When she pulls out a tight, slinky red dress I almost laugh, thinking she’s joking. “I can’t. That is so out of my sexy league.”
It’s way, way more revealing than anything I’ve ever worn. I feel slightly embarrassed just looking at it. Yet…yet…, a little voice whispers inside my head, I swore I would regret nothing. Swore I would not care. I would live this month to the fullest, leap out of my comfort zone.
“Don’t be ridiculous.” She pulls it off the hanger. “You can, and will wear it.”
Dare I? I hesitate only a second, then kick off my sweats. “Fine. I’m in.”
I’m wearing pretty lacey black underwear and matching bra. She grins in approval. It was the first thing I did when I decided to go on my trip…buy adult lingerie. It seemed silly at the time. Now, I’m glad I went shopping.