by L. R. Olson
I grab my camera bag and we leave his room. The house is quiet. The streets outside aren’t as crowded as they were. Christian explains that the cruise ship is getting ready to leave, and with the cruise ship go the visitors. “How did you meet Max?”
“About eight years ago his father got a job at the oil rigs near here, and they moved from Australia. He and Audrey have been dating since she moved in. They’re great.”
I have a feeling Christian is the kind of person who sees no flaws in his friends. Blindly loyal. We walk around to the side of his house. “All your friends are great.”
Except for Kirstin but we won’t go there.
He grins. “They are. What about your friends?”
I shrug, trying to keep my smile in place. I had two good girlfriends when I got sick. But they couldn’t keep up with the visits. They send me an email once in a while, but it feels forced. I have a feeling they’re just checking to make sure I’m still alive, and to relieve their guilt. I wonder briefly if Gabby and I will stay in touch. If she’ll really visit as she said she would. “They’re wonderful.”
He pulls a helmet from the back of a sleek blue and black motorcycle. “Have you been on one before?”
I put the helmet on. “No.”
“Just hold tight.”
That won’t be a problem. Damn, if he doesn’t look sexy. I climb up behind him and press myself to his back. He starts the motorcycle. The machine vibrates under my legs, and makes me feel things I shouldn’t on overly sensitive areas. I take in a deep breath. I could get used to this. All of this. We head slowly down the street, bumping against the cobbled road. All too soon we’re zooming through traffic, headed toward town.
I tighten my arms around him and grin into my helmet. Things are back to normal with us. In this moment, in this time, life is perfect.
Chapter 11
See the Sites in Norway
Make out in Public
“Torsk, or fish, as you say,” Christian explains as he stands at the grill in jeans and a t-shirt, looking completely comfortable and at ease in the chilly weather.
“Torsk,” I repeat, just to appease him.
“Close,” he laughs.
Which tells me it wasn’t close at all. I’m finally making use of a cute gray sweater that my mom purchased for me when she realized how outdated my winter clothing was. I should have changed from the skirt I’m wearing and into pants, but when I noticed Christian’s gaze linger on my legs, I decided I could take the cold. God, I’m an idiot. But I’m an idiot being sexually satisfied by a very hot Scandinavian.
I shake my head. “I can’t pronounce it. Your language is too complicated.”
Audrey snorts as she steps out onto the patio, a dish of roasted potatoes in hand. No doubt they have some sort of mustard sauce on them. “No, English is complicated!”
Christian points the spatula at her. “Yes.”
It’s almost dark, and the harsh angles of his face are highlighted by the light from the grill, making him appear fierce, otherworldly. My very own Viking, without the crazy beard. It’s cozy in the backyard, hidden behind fences and large bushes of flowers. It’s cozy, but it would be even cozier if it was only the two of us.
The urge to walk to Christian, wrap my arms around his waist and press the side of my face to his back is overwhelming. If Audrey wasn’t watching us closely, trying to judge the seriousness of our relationship, I would. The motorcycle ride around his city yesterday was amazing. We’d stopped at sites, taken silly photos, and gotten dinner. Spent the day alone, exploring. He’d been so proud and excited to show me his town.
I shrug. “My tongue and mouth will just not twist that way.”
“Who’s talking about tongue?” Max comes outside with three bottles of beer and a bottle of water in hand. He’s wearing jeans and a white Henley that show off his massive muscles. He’s a bouncer at a club, not surprisingly, yet I see the gentle way he treats Audrey.
“Hope,” Audrey offers. She’s the opposite to Max’s manliness. She’s delicate, feminine and utterly French. “Hope’s tongue to be specific.”
I flush and am thankful the darkness hides my blush. At times I feel a child around them, unused to the teasing and flirting. “We’re talking about how difficult it is to speak Norwegian, not about my tongue.”
“There are so many better things to do with a tongue than to speak Norwegian.” Max grins, right before taking a swig of his beer. “Such as…”
Audrey slaps her hand over his mouth.
I don’t miss Christian’s smile as he glances at me and I know he’s thinking dirty thoughts. I shake my head, warning him to keep it to himself, even as I remember what Christian did with his tongue last night. I can’t stop the warm flush of pleasure from racing through my body.
“You’re embarrassing Hope,” Audrey says. “She’s American. They don’t talk about sex.”
Ah, yes, I was blessed with the ability to easily blush, and apparently it’s noticeable even in dim light. Lucky me. I take a drink of my water, partly to bide time, partly to cool off. “Sure we do…in dark corners, in huddled whispers, on cloudy nights.”
“Only after marriage,” Max offers. “And then only in missionary position, with your clothes still on?”
As if I would know. Talking about positions only makes me think about Christian, and what I haven’t experienced with him yet. Do I want to know more? Stupid question. Hell, yes. I do. “Exactly.”
“Almost done?” Audrey asks Christian. “I’m starving. Didn’t get a chance to eat lunch, the boutique was packed.”
I’ve never loved fish, but my stomach grumbles and my mouth waters at just the mention. Besides, it smells more like BBQ than salt water grub. I reach for some chips in the bowl on the table. “It smells delicious.”
“How are you so tiny, yet eat so much?” Max asks.
I stick out my tongue. “Something else I can do with my tongue.”
He laughs. I should be embarrassed, but I’m too pleased with my new appetite to care. It must be the cool weather and exercise. Even my jeans are tighter. Mom will be thrilled, even if I have to spend a couple hundred for a new wardrobe that fits my fuller frame.
“You’re never supposed to bring up a woman’s weight, idiot,” Audrey says, slapping Max on the gut, so he grunts. “Sorry, Hope.”
“Don’t tease her,” Christian says, pointing his spatula at Max like it’s a sword. “She can eat as much as she wants.”
An image of Kirstin pops to mind. “No stick-thin models for you?” I can’t help but say, and immediately regret it. I sound like I’m fishing. Like I’m jealous. Which I am. And I’m pretty sure they all catch it.
“Christian?” Audrey perks up. “No. That’s definitely not his type.”
I’m surprised, but manage to hide it. So Kirstin isn’t his type? I pick up another chip and dip it in the guacamole I made earlier. Is he truly just her friend? “So then, what is his type?”
She parts her lips to respond.
“Food is ready,” Christian interrupts, changing the subject, which does not go unnoticed. “Let’s eat. Quickly.”
I grin over his obvious unease.
Audrey leans closer and in a faux whisper says, “I’ll tell you later.”
Christian gives her a glare and we both laugh. Even if they are suspicious of me, I love these people. I love the culture. The history. The nature. I love everything about this trip. If I hadn’t met Christian, would I love it as much?
“This is why you don’t let your friends around your girlfriends,” Max offers. “Until they’re too settled in to escape.”
“Escape?” Audrey says, dishing up his plate. “Like we’re hostages?”
But I barely listen to their good-natured bickering because I’m stuck on one word. Girlfriend. Christian doesn’t seem to notice. He’s smiling as he dishes up his plate, offering his own witty comments. I shift in unease. Surely Christian doesn’t see me as his girlfriend. Or maybe it means something d
ifferent here, than it does in the states.
I can hardly interrupt with, “Excuse me, can you define girlfriend, please?”
As I sit stiffly on my bench, I don’t miss the way Audrey is watching us. She’s trying to decide how serious we are. Hopefully if she figures it out, she’ll let me know. Christian hands me a plate of fish. He cooks, cleans and serves as much as any woman in America. They don’t act weird about gender roles here, which is refreshing.
Out front you can still hear the sound of tourists as they meander through the streets, wishing they lived here. Christian doesn’t seem to mind their constant presence. He’s so easy-going, nothing upsets him. I slept in his room last night, and when I’d woken up warm, curled into his body, I hadn’t regretted it. I don’t even regret coming here even though Max said the dreaded “G” word.
I give myself a mental shake. I should. I’ll be leaving in a few days. Christian and the others will eventually go back to school. And I’ll…fade away. And for the first time in a long, long while, I ache with the need to stay on this planet. To experience this life. To continue.
“Here you go,” Christian says, handing me my plate and startling me from my depressing thoughts.
With a forced smile, I take the offering. He’s watching closely as he sits on the bench next to me, as if he knows something is wrong.
Audrey launches into a work story, and Christian rests his hand on my thigh. A tingle of awareness tiptoes up my leg, centering in the spot low in my belly. I’m suddenly feeling hungry for something entirely different.
No, I don’t regret coming here. Because even now, as I’m wondering how to slow things down between us, I’m also trying to figure out a way to get him back in bed. I bite into the fish and sigh. It’s delicious, delicate, sweet and smoky.
“Good?” Christian asks.
I nod, too busy eating to talk. Maybe it’s the sex that’s suddenly given me an appetite. I’m vaguely aware of Audrey complaining about her toad of a boss. How he leers at her. Max asking if she wants him to pummel the guy.
“No, my superhero,” she leans over and kisses his cheek, “he’s grotesque, let that be his punishment.”
I take a forkful of fish. It’s flaky, and light and so incredibly good. “What? Not everyone in Scandinavia looks like Thor?”
Max clears his throat and puffs out his chest. “Thor is Australian. Thank you very much.”
“Ah,” I say, raising my brows. “So all Australian men look like Thor?”
Christian lightly squeezes my knee. I grin, wondering how far I can push him. Surely he’s not jealous. Christian isn’t the jealous type, is he?
“Well,” Max points to himself. “I mean…look at me.”
I shake my head. “Apparently I’ve gone to the wrong country.”
“No, I think you’ve come to the right one,” Christian says, leaning into me and kissing my neck. “Exactly right.”
I grin up at him even as shivers of delight race down my body, and Max and Audrey watch us with keen interest. They’ve been judging our relationship since we arrived. I’ve even heard them whispering, no doubt trying to figure out what the hell is going on. Get in line, because I am too.
“Have you seen those superhero movies?” Audrey asks, leaning forward. We’ve got something in common now, along with most women. “Max thinks I actually watch them for the action and fighting.”
Max sends her a glare, before taking a swig of his beer. “We are sitting right here, you know.”
Audrey stands and settles upon his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Poor baby. You know you’re my only superhero.”
Sure, they’re borrowed friends, but it’ still fun to be around these people, to pretend. I grin as I sip my water. Everything feels so normal, so relaxed. Comfortable even. I realize as I watch everyone talking and laughing, that I feel better than I’ve felt in a long, long while. Audrey says something in French, then apologizes.
“Sorry, I forgot to speak English.” She shakes her head. “Too many languages!”
I shrug. “It’s okay. I can’t believe how well you all speak English.”
“It’s the one language we all have in common. Most Europeans speak more than one language. But you see,” she explains, cutting up her fish. “The music we listen to, the movies we watch…they’re all in English, which is why it’s easier for us.”
She’s got a point, but I know she’s only being kind. As much as I like Christian’s friends, they tend to make me feel like a complete loser. They’re all so sophisticated, so worldly in a way I’ll never be. What bothers me most of all is that before I met Christian, I wouldn’t have cared. “How many languages do you speak?”
“Three. French, German and English,” Audrey says, taking a bite of fish. “And Max two.”
I look at Christian.
“Four.”
Four? Four freaking languages? I speak a few words in Spanish that I remember from my middle school, but I’m not about to offer my pathetic offering. “Which?”
He takes a swig of beer, and I know he’s trying to bide his time. He’s embarrassed, or maybe he doesn’t want to embarrass me. “Danish, Norwegian, English, and French. And a little German.”
“Nothing like being overly accomplished,” I tease him, nudging my shoulder into his arm, using the excuse to touch him. I wish he’d touch me. I shift, pressing my thigh to his, but he doesn’t seem to get the hint. Dare I just grab his hand and hold it?
Audrey jumps from Max’s lap, picks up the chip bowl and heads toward the French doors. “Oh Christian is perfect. Utterly perfect. Hadn’t you heard?”
She’s teasing, but we all know there’s some truth to the statement. He is perfect…so why doesn’t he have a girlfriend? No one can meet his high standards? Or does he just like to play the field?
“Hardly,” he mutters.
“That’s right,” Max says, as Audrey disappears inside. “If you knew the stories I do…”
I clap my hands. “Oh do tell!”
“Let’s not,” Christian replies.
It’s fun seeing him so uneasy. Mr. Always in Control is nervous. I slide my arm round his waist and lean into him, kissing his shoulder. “Oh come on.”
He smiles down at me. For a split second it’s like we’re the only two people on this patio. Hell, on this planet. Not once, I realize, have I thought about my illness since arriving to this little cottage.
“Well, there was one time when my sister was being picked on,” Max explains. “This guy in school had a crush on her, when she wouldn’t go out with him, he told everyone she was a slut.”
“Ugh,” I say. “Typical.”
Audrey returns, the bowl full of chips. She’s refreshed her makeup. Max probably won’t even notice but I do. I would have mentally laughed at her preening for her boyfriend. But who am I to judge when I’m sitting in the cold in a skirt because Christian likes my legs?
“When Christian found out she was being picked on, he was livid. So he planned to humiliate the bastard. We basically cat-fished him, made him think this really hot girl in school was interested.”
“Evil!” Audrey says, laughing at Christian. “I knew there was a devil inside of you.”
Max shrugs. “He never did that to another girl again.”
“She was like my sister too,” Christian explains.
He sounds sad and I wonder why. The others don’t seem to notice. But I do. I notice everything about him. The way he rubs his neck when he’s unsure. The way he gives that lop-sided smile when he’s truly happy. The guy is creeping more and more into my affections.
“Well that’s no fun,” I said softly. “That’s just being honorable.”
He looks somewhat uneasy as he draws his fork through his fish. “It’s what anyone would do…protect their friends.”
“Oh please. Christian is not like anyone else,” Audrey says. “You would take in a homeless person you’d just met. Practically did with me. He sees me crying on the street corner, h
aving come from France for a supposed job. I have no money. That was a year ago. I’ve been here since.”
“Thank God.” Max lifts his beer bottle in salute. “He has a hero complex. Always has to save someone. Why do you think he’s friends with Kris—”
Audrey elbows him in the gut, cutting him off.
Kirstin. Lovely, wonderful, model-like Kirstin. Will I ever escape her presence? I have to try really hard not to roll my eyes. She’s more than just an old family friend, he feels like he’s her protector. If this wasn’t just a fling, I’d be annoyed.
“She’s had a hard life,” Christian defends the woman, much to my annoyance. “You know that.”
“Haven’t we all?” Audrey says and I love her in that moment.
“Yes, but most of us haven’t found our father’s body after he committed suicide.”
The comment brings a darkness to the party and we settle into uncomfortable silence. Damn, but now I’m feeling sorry for Kirstin when I planned to despise her for eternity. It’s bad enough losing your dad to illness, but knowing her father actually killed himself makes me downright sad. I so desperately wanted to loathe her.
“You know she’s in town?” Audrey says, and I don’t miss the accusatory tone she takes. Audrey, apparently, isn’t falling for Kirstin’s sob story.
Christian doesn’t respond, which means of course he knew. I’m not sure whether to be frustrated or resigned. If he runs off and leaves me again for her… Yet, how can I deny him the right to offer her comfort? They’ve known each other since the beginning of time.
“Anyway, I do not have a hero complex,” Christian says. “Look at Hope. She doesn’t need saving. She’s the most independent woman I’ve dated.”
I smile at him. But it’s a forced smile. Hell, does he sense there’s something wrong with me even if he doesn’t realize it? Hero complex or not, if he stayed with me he’d realize that sometimes you can’t save people.
“So.” I look to Max to change the subject. “Where is your sister now?”