Terminal 19

by L. R. Olson

  However, I’m determined not to sleep with Christian if he has a girlfriend. At least that’s what I keep telling myself. Will I actually be able to resist him? I step into the dress and pull it up my body. If the material wasn’t stretchy it wouldn’t fit. As it is, the material clings to me like a glove. I feel awkward, but then I’ve spent most of my teenage years in hospital gowns and sweats.

  “I’m not used to being sexy.”

  “Well, girl, you need to get used to it, because you are looking hot.” She reaches for her makeup bag. “Just need a bit of color.”

  I hold still as she sweeps a touch of blush to my cheeks and lids. She knows what she’s doing. I gave up on makeup years ago. I was too exhausted to care. There’s so much I don’t know and it never mattered before because I wasn’t going to be on this earth long enough. Now I wish I’d paid more attention to life. Wished I knew how to dress, how to do makeup, how to fix my hair. How to flirt.

  “Gorgeous!” Gabrielle says, clapping her hands in delight.

  With a quick glance at my phone, I realize I have three minutes. Not that I’m in a hurry to see him… Okay, I admit, I’m frantic to see him. And I’m wishing so very hard that he doesn’t have a girlfriend because I know, I know I’m going to be so very disappointed.

  Gabrielle fluffs up my hair, using some sort of spray to give it volume, and throws a small, black purse at me. “I’d die for your hair color.”

  I shove my phone into the purse. She’s not finished and grabs a bottle of perfume, spritzing me. I smell of vanilla and summer. I don’t move as she creates her masterpiece, but I can’t ignore the warmth of affection seeping through me. We met only a few days ago and already I feel as if I’ve known her forever. Unable to stop myself, I reach out and draw her in for a quick hug. My wall is crumbling, piece by piece, whether I want it to or not. I can no longer keep it contained. I’m not sure if I want to.

  “Thank you,” I whisper.

  She hugs me back as if it’s normal to show affection. She has no idea that it’s been a long, long time since I’ve allowed myself to care. “Of course!”

  I ignore the tears stinging my eyes, ignore the voice warning not to get close, and when I pull back, I keep her hand in mine. “Come with me, that way if he has a girlfriend we can still go out and have fun, you and I.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yes. You can’t say no…it’s my birthday.”

  She’s grinning as she races to her closet. “I’ll be down in a second.”

  Relieved, I run to my room and grab my black ballet flats. As I glance in the small mirror on my wall, I pause, startled. It takes a brief moment for me to recognize the reflection. It’s me…but for the first time in a long while I don’t look ill. I look like any other young woman, with a flush of excitement brightening my cheeks and eyes.

  Disconcerted, I leave the apartment and make my way down the steps. Outside, the temperature is crisp, the scent of rain still hangs in the air from the downpour earlier. I find Christian immediately. In the distance music plays, a hard rock song that screams from an open window. Christian stands when he spots me. I don’t miss the way his gaze slowly scans my body as I start toward him, and I’m so grateful Gabrielle forced me to wear the dress. I could forgive him almost anything for that smile.

  “Hello,” I say.

  He leans forward. I assume he’s going to kiss my cheek, so I’m not prepared when he doesn’t. His lips mold to mine, his hand coming up to slide through my hair and cup the back of my head. When I feel the sweep of his tongue against my lips, I part them with a sigh. And I know I should be making sure he doesn’t have a girlfriend first, but I can’t seem to think rationally when he touches me.

  My knees go weak. I hadn’t imagined how well he kissed. Hadn’t imagined how quickly my body reacted. Slowly, my hands creep up his muscled chest, around his neck, as I sink into him. He groans, a puff of air escaping his lips. I want to breathe him in. I want to draw my hands down every inch of his hard body and know him. Truly know him.

  He tears his mouth from mine. Both of us are panting. “There’s a club not far from here. You like to dance?”

  My mind is still muddled from his kiss, my heart hammering so loudly I barely hear him. Dance? He wants to dance? I have other ideas, but those are more R-rated. “Dance at a club?”

  He pulls back and nods. Considering I’ve never been to a club, I’m not positive I’ll like it. But this month is all about trying new things. “Sure. Mind if my roommate comes along?”

  “Not at all.”

  I can see Gabrielle skipping down the steps. He leans close, whispered words meant just for me. “You look incredible.”

  I blush. He looks pretty amazing himself. He’s wearing a fitted short sleeve button down shirt and dark jeans. How is it that European guys always look so chic and manly at the same time?

  “Hello, lovely people,” Gabrielle says. She practically sparkles in her silver crop top, jeans and black boots, an outfit I wish I was confident enough to pull off. “Let’s have some fun!”

  We start down the sidewalk. Even though it’s late, there are still a lot of locals wandering the city, while the tourists are tucked away safely in their hotel beds. Gabrielle and Christian are discussing the unusually hot weather, as well as their favorite local places to eat and visit. I listen with half an ear, trying to take everything in at once. To memorize every detail of this night.

  “Where are we going?” Gabrielle finally asks. “Are we meeting up with anyone, Christian? Your friends, perhaps?”

  She’s digging for the truth. I give her a pointed glance. She raises her brows and gives me a look back. She’s right…I need to find out if he’s got a girlfriend. I just wasn’t expecting to do it here, now. Ignorance is bliss, right?

  “Going to meet some of my friends from the university.”

  “Great,” she says for the both of us.

  I’m meeting his friends? I try not to read anything into it, but can’t help but be nervous. We turn down a street. As if sensing my unease, Christian’s hand wraps around mine. “I want to apologize again for leaving the other day.”

  How badly I want to ask him why he fled. Ask about the blonde I saw pop up on his phone. But it’s not my business…is it? No. We aren’t dating. We never will. Just a fling, I remind myself. This is just a vacation fling. “It’s fine.”

  “Gotta make a call, you two go ahead,” Gabrielle says as she falls back.

  She’s overheard. I know she’s making an excuse and I’m grateful for it. Perfect time for me to ask about his relationship status. It’s not something I want to discuss, but it’s a must. I won’t have my first time having sex, possibly only time, tarnished by cheating.

  He squeezes my fingers. “Pretty pathetic excuse for a date though, and I am determined to make it up to you.”

  Date? So he did consider it a date. It wasn’t just me and my overactive imagination. I can hear Gabrielle talking on her phone behind us.

  “Christian.” We pause at a street light. “Do you have a girlfriend?”

  His brows draw slightly together. “No.”

  I study his face. Looking for signs of the truth. Yes, I’ve become great at lying since my illness, but I’ve also become great at reading others. It’s crazy how much people fib, and usually I can spot the lie. It takes an expert, after all.

  You’re going to be okay.

  You look great! You don’t look sickly at all.

  You’re young, you’re strong, you’ll beat this.

  I’ve heard it all plenty of times.

  “I swear, Hope. I don’t.”

  And maybe lust is clouding my judgement, but I believe him. My relief is immediate. “Okay. Just making sure.” I pause for an awkward minute. Gabrielle is catching up to us. Time to change the subject. “Dancing is always a good date.”

  Oh god, what an idiotic thing to say. Not like I’d really know a good date anyway, but I want to say something to make up for the weirdness between us,
since I pretty much accused him of cheating. He’s watching me with amusement in his gaze, as if he knows exactly what’s been going through my mind.

  “No. This isn’t a date. There are too many people involved. When we go on a date it will be just me and you.” His comment makes me warm and achy and excited all at once. The light changes and we start across the street. “Wednesday…feel like taking a train ride somewhere? Not far. Just outside of Copenhagen.”

  I bite my lower lip to keep from grinning like a fool. So, I haven’t scared him off yet. “I’d say I’m interested.”

  He smiles. “Good.”

  Gabrielle catches up to us. “Ohhh, I know this club! It’s great.”

  I can hear music thumping from the open doors ahead. There’s a giant of a blond bouncer judging those in line, and for a moment I worry we’ll be rejected. But he nods at Christian like they know each other, and we sweep inside with ease.

  All of my senses are assaulted at once. It smells of perfume and cologne and alcohol. Loud techno music thumps from the DJ booth at the far end of the room. A crowd of people jump, dance, and spin before the booth, letting go of their inhibitions. Lights pulse, making the room flash. The world around me spins. Everything feels slightly off balance. I hate how my body over-reacts.

  Christian’s arm slides around my waist, offering comfort and stability. “You don’t mind meeting up with some of my friends?”

  Just a fling. It’s supposed to be just a fling. I force myself to smile. But I feel so out of my element, it’s like I’m putting on a play. “Sure, I’d love to meet them.”

  We move down the steps and start toward a booth in the far corner. While we walk like normal people, Gabrielle dances her way toward the table. I wish I could be as free as she seems. Maybe she can give me lessons. “So, who are we meeting?”

  “Just friends from the university. You’ll like them.”

  His hand rests possessively on my lower back. I can feel the burn of his palm through my dress. It flusters and excites me. By the time we reach the table where a guy and two women are seated, I feel afire. Christian reaches over to shake hands with the guy who looks close to our age.

  “You know,” one of the women is saying in an adorable Scottish accent. “It’s like when you’re so exhausted you don’t remember if you’ve taken out your tampon, or if its trapped in the nether regions of your vagina, never to be seen again? So then you spend like the next hour terrified you’re going to get toxic shock syndrome? Until…” She spots me. “Oh, hello. Who are you?”

  The woman with dark hair who sits next to her is holding her stomach, she’s laughing so hard. She falls over in the booth, her giggles coming out in unladylike guffaws. I’m grinning too. I like people who are open, fun. I don’t have time for games.

  “Don’t mind her,” the laughing woman manages. “She’s drunk.”

  “You two are amazing,” Gabrielle says. “I think we’re going to be friends.”

  “Oh good!” The woman telling the tampon story stumbles to her feet. She has a plethora of red, curly hair and reminds me of Merida from Brave. “Let’s dance, new friend.”

  They grab each other’s hands and dart around the table. Oh, how I wish I could be that much of an extrovert. They don’t even need to be on the dance floor. They’re laughing, twirling each other around and around, and I can’t help but grin as they bump into the table.

  “This is Hope,” Christian says. “My…friend.”

  Friend? I’m not angry, more amused. He glances at me, apparently as confused as I am about our relationship status. I was going to say soon-to-be Fuck Buddy, but you know, friend works too.

  “Nice to meet you,” the other woman smiles, holding out her hand.

  “You’re adorable, Hope,” Merida says as she twirls Gabrielle. “Like a bleedin porcelain doll. Well done, Christian.”

  Ugh. There it is…doll. Before the illness no one called me a doll. I was taller than most in elementary school. People even made fun of my height. But not now. Now I’m average height when I was supposed to be above.

  “Drinks anyone?” Christian’s hand is on my lower back, proclaiming to all that I’m not quite just a friend. “We’re celebrating Hope’s twentieth birthday.”

  “Oh good,” Merida says, pressing her hand to her chest in dramatic relief. “Thought she was sixteen. Was a bit worried I was going to have to do an intervention.”

  Christian just shakes his head in exasperation as he leaves, the only guy in the group going with him. But I don’t miss the wink Christian’s friend gives me as he walks by. The grin says he knows as well as I that Christian and I are more than friends.

  The woman with dark brown hair that hangs in a long, shiny curtain around her oval face pats the seat next to her. She has the darkest, most beautiful gaze, but there are smudges of exhaustion underneath her eyes that tells me there’s more to her story. “I’m Jessica Morales.”

  I settle next to her. “You’re American?”

  She nods. “From California. This weirdo is Fiona O’Donnell from Scotland.”

  She grins, her brilliant red hair stands out in the dimly lit room. She’s like sunshine at night. And it’s not just her looks, but her very personality. I want to be like Fiona as she twirls around and around with abandonment. I want to be like Gabrielle who is so fashionable and excited about life.

  Jessica leans closer, her scent of cinnamon comforting and exotic. “Ben is the guy who went with Christian to get drinks. He’s from France.”

  “Do you all go to school here?” I ask as I settle on the bench beside her. “With Christian?”

  Jessica shakes her head. “Not me. But they do. I’m taking a year off.”

  At least I’m not the only one lagging behind.

  “It’s how we all know each other,” Fiona explains, sliding into the booth. “We’re all students from other countries. We were forced to go to some social event last year and ended up at the same table.”

  “So, how did you meet Christian?” Jessica asks.

  Gabrielle laughs as she settles next to me. She knows the story. “Oh, do tell them.”

  “Well, it’s very romantic…” A new song comes on. Apparently it’s something popular as people cheer. The base is pounding. I try to ignore the anxiety crawling up my spine, the thump of my head that seems to increase with each beat. It’s loud. Too loud. I force my lips to keep a smile. “I needed to use the toilet and he gave me the five kroner.”

  “That is romantic.” Fiona laughs. “Cheers to having to pee!”

  Gabrielle claps and yells in delight. God, I so badly want to switch places with one of them. Just for a night, I want to be free and fun and happy. But as I glance around the table, listening to Gabrielle and Fiona chat, my gaze keeps wandering to Jessica.

  She’s the one I’m drawn to the most. Jessica with the sad, dark eyes. She catches me watching her and smiles. I smile back, wondering about her story. She has one. Everyone has one. Some are comedies. Some romances. Others dramas. Some are all at once. Fiona and Gabrielle live in a romantic comedy. Mine is a drama. So is Jessica’s. Oddly enough, I’m not sure about Christian’s story.

  “Normally I would tell you to stay far, far away from Scandinavian men,” Fiona says. “They’re weird.”

  Jessica shakes her head and rolls her eyes, looking amused and exasperated.

  “What? I’m serious! There’s no romance. They don’t even hold the fucking door open for you! It’s like hey, nice to meet you, want to have sex?”

  Perfect for me.

  Jessica is grinning. “A Danish guy just dumped her.”

  “No!” She points at Jessica, and I realize Jessica wasn’t joking, she’s already half drunk. Probably was before she got here. “I dumped him after he cheated.”

  “Here we go, something for everyone.” Christian and Ben are back, a variety of drinks in hand. They pass out the glasses. I get something in a fancy flute that’s pink, the rim covered in sugar. Besides the occasional sip o
f my mom’s margarita, I’ve never had my own drink. Just for me. I savor it, like I savor every moment of this trip.

  “And Scandinavian guys cheat,” Fiona adds. “They’re almost as bad as French men. Worse, because they act all feminist.”

  “Oh dear,” Ben sighs. “Please ignore her. She’s drunk.”

  I’m still grinning, even as I wonder if anything she says is true. I slide Christian a glance. He seems completely unperturbed by her comment. But it doesn’t really matter if he’s cheated on every one of his girlfriends, because this is only supposed to be a one-night stand.

  “Pretty drink.” I lift the cup and tap it against Christian’s then take a sip. I can taste the alcohol. I’ve never cared much for the taste of alcohol but tonight I’m going to drink this one drink, and tonight I’m going to party like I’m twenty and healthy. Christian sits beside me as Gabrielle moves away to speak with Ben.

  “Good?” he asks.

  I nod, smiling up at him. Under the table, Christian’s hand rests on my bare knee. A tingle of awareness races up my thighs. Is it hot? It seems warm. Really warm. I have to resist the urge to shift. How can a simple touch, a simple glance, stir up so much within me?

  Fiona is sipping something green. “You must be special for Christian to buy drinks in house.”

  Christian’s thumb is brushing the inside of my thigh, making it hard for me to concentrate on anything but him. He has no idea how he’s affecting me. Or maybe he does. I laugh, a shaky breath. “Why is that?”

  “You see, everything is so damn expensive here,” Jessica explains. “That most people drink before coming to the club.”

  “Not tonight,” Christian says, lifting his beer. “It’s on me. So drink up. As many as you can handle.”

  “Woohoo!” Fiona shouts, lifting her drink and chugging it. I hope someone is going to watch out for her, make sure she gets a cab home.

  “Straight clubs are so boring!” Ben yells over the music. He’s tall and thin, with a long, narrow nose, but his Frenchness oozes from him, making him appear more handsome than he actually is. “Just a bunch of drunks. I go to your silly straight clubs all the time. Come with me down the road.”