GO ON A DATE WITH SCANDINAVIAN HOTTIE

Get dumped by Scandinavian Hottie


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It's two and I'm way early but it's been years since I've been on a date. And those dates I went on with Kai were silly, child-like social events between middle school kids. Giggling and gossiping, a quick peck on the lips, if you were bold enough. There was no chance for anything more than kissing.

Fact is, I've never been on a real date. Never gotten to experience the excitement of wondering how far I'll go. Second base? Third? If we'll go back to his place or mine. If I even want to go back to their place or mine. Who knows what will happen, and isn't that the exciting part?

I play with the edge of my scarf. In two days I'll be twenty. Technically no longer a teen. I should be going to college, thinking about my life and my career and what the future holds. I don't have college. I don't have a future. But I do have this. This month of freedom. This silly little date. This maybe one-night-stand. And I'm going to enjoy every moment, even the nervous energy that makes me fidget.

Eagerly, I look around the area, searching for her. The bench I'm sitting on is under a tree near the tower and provides some shade on yet another warm day. A group of giggling school girls in front of me disperse, scurrying to race after their teacher, and that's when I see her walking toward me.

My heart skips a beat. She hasn't spotted me yet and I take the time to study her. She's changed out of her work clothes and is wearing a V-neck tee and jeans. She looks smart, stylish and European. She looks like a model, walks as if she hasn't a care in the world, as if she knows she's hot. But she also seems…nice. Do I have a type or what? I could do worse than hot, nice guys.

My hands tighten around my scarf as my pulse flutters. I'm wearing a long t-shirt, leggings, comfortable ankle boots. I actually look decent, thanks to Rosé. For once I've actually tried and I'm rather happy with the results.

She spots me and smiles that lopsided smile. A pleasant warmth rushes through me. My chest grows tight. I force my fingers to release the death grip on my scarf and stand as she gets closer. Everything that races through me at once is savored…from my worry, to the excitement, to heated attraction. My mind is laser-focused on her, not my illness.

"Hello, Jennie."

She leans in and for a moment I think she's going to kiss me on the lips. I tilt my head back, lowering my lashes, prepared. But she shifts, catching my cheek in a totally European way. Her jaw brushes my skin and I shiver with delight. So damn hot.

Would it be rude if I cupped the sides of her face and just molded my mouth to hers? That clean male scent swirls around me, catching my clothing and clinging to the fabric. I greedily breathe it in. Hell, I'm desperate and so damn glad the chemicals haven't destroyed my libido.

"Insta-love," Rosé had joked this morning.

"Hell no," I had quickly replied. "But insta-lust…hell yes."

When she leans back her blue eyes are on me, intense and shockingly intimate. I have to say something. We can't just keep standing here staring at each other, waiting to see who will speak first. "Where should we start?"

She steps closer to get away from a large crowd of tourists, so close her arm presses to mine. Although the group moves on, she doesn't. "What have you seen?"

Around us there are so many people it should be obnoxious, but I don't care. Hell, I barely notice the crowds that would usually annoy me. "Just the castle."

She quirks a brow. "Ah, well then, we'll start here." She spreads her arms wide. "This is the Latin district. One of the oldest sections of the city. It's also where the university is located."

I glance dutifully around the area, taking in the buildings, the narrow, cobbled streets, but I'd rather study her. "The university where you go?"

"Yes. Been there a year for graduate school."

So, she's around twenty-three? We start walking around the tower. I've already looked up the university online and know you have to be pretty smart to get accepted. I wonder what she's studying, but don't want to ask. Asking questions about college would lead to her asking questions about whether I'm going to college. We need to keep this casual. Flirt. Sleep together. Part ways. Yep, that's the plan.

"I assume you're here on holiday?" she asks.

We move down the street, walking around the small block that makes up the tower. "Yes. Two weeks. Then a week in Norway, and a week in Sweden."

"Norway. My home country," she says, proving Rosé was right, and is a master at accents. "You'll love it. It's beautiful. Where are you going?"

"Not sure yet. I'm supposed to decide this week and book a place to stay."

"I'd be happy to help."

Does she mean now, or at a later date…another date? Does she want to see me again? Ugh, I'm acting like I'm thirteen with my first crush. "Thanks." We fall into a brief companionable silence as we move around a small grassy area at the back of the church. "So, how did you end up here?"

"My dad lives in Copenhagen. My mom lives in Stavanger, Norway. In fact, I'll be headed back home in a few weeks. Are you in school?"

And there is the question I've been dreading. I hesitate. I know I need to answer yes. How do I explain that not only am I not in college, but I also don't work? Nothing like coming off as a complete loser, mooching off her parents. "Took a year off."

Not a lie.

"Nineteen then?"

"Twenty in two days." God. Twenty sounds so old to have accomplished so little. I shake off that depressing realization. "You?"

She pauses. "Two days? We'll have to do something about that." Before I can ask her meaning, or have enough time to panic, she continues. "I just turned twenty-three."

Twenty-three. Will I reach that age? If I'm lucky. I wonder what her life will be like five years from now when I'm gone. Will she be married? Have a job? Will she remember me? I shove the thoughts aside. I'm a tiny blimp in her life. Someone she met, hung out with a few days when she was young, never to be seen or heard from again. I'll be a mystery woman. Part of me likes the idea that she'll never see my imperfections, never get tired of me.

"What's your major?"

"Political science, for now," she says. "You? What will you study?"

I've never thought about it. But of course I know what I would study if I could go to college. "Photography, or maybe historical preservation. I love old buildings."

"Nothing modern?"

We turn and continue down the other side of the church, where there's a large tree and a statue of some sort. I don't miss the female tourists my age who glance her way. I want to tell them to find their own Scandinavian Hottie, but manage to keep my mouth shut.

"I appreciate modern art. I love that Denmark combines the two. Actually, my mom does sculpture." I shrug. "But I like history. I like knowing that when we're gone, those buildings still remain. Artifacts from hundreds of years ago, even cave paintings from thousands of years ago. An impression of our lives in stone and wood."

She looks up at the row homes that line the streets as if seeing them for the first time through my eyes. It makes me happy to know I might have opened her mind, taught her something.

"I do love this city and its history."

I smile. "Me too."

Suddenly we're back at the front of the building where there's a big arched doorway, covered in carved cherubs my sister would find completely freaky. Inside, I can see a booth where you pay for tickets, and a brick floor that curls up and disappears around a corner.

"Here we are." We pause at the entrance. "Have you been up to see the view?"

I tilt my head back. It's not that high, but I'm not that strong either. Walking for the last two days is starting to take its toll. Mom's voice is in my head, warning me not to overdo it. I ignore her. I'm in Denmark. I will regret nothing.

"If you're going to start anywhere, start with a view." I nod, ignoring the tsking sound of the wind. "Okay. Let's go."

We move into the building and pay.

"I haven't been up here in years," she says.

There are no stairs. The walls are white, the ground a cobbled stone that twists up the tower. I can hear the echo of voices as we start up the spiral incline. A few kids come running down, barely missing us in their excitement. They're full of an energy I vaguely remember.

I stumble back into Lisa to get out of their way. Her hands rest on my waist, and an electric current zips through my body making it hard to breathe. She's hot and strong at my back. I should move. Need to move. I stay for one moment longer than is respectable, and her fingers flex ever so slightly against my waist. Why does this feel so damn right?

Her sweet breath brushes my temple, stirring my hair. "You okay?"

My heart pounds madly against my ribcage. What would I do if she pressed her lips to the side of my neck? An ache stirs low in the pit of my belly, giving me my answer. I'd do nothing other than welcome that kiss.

Attraction, plain and simple. Yes, I've been attracted to guys before, but in an aloof, impersonal way, knowing I would never pursue a relationship. This is different. I have less than two weeks to make it clear to Lisa that I want her. I want the girl stirring all kinds of crazy emotions within me. "Yeah. I'm fine. Sorry."

She releases me.

I have to resist the urge to move back into her arms. There's a part of me that wonders if I should just be blunt and ask her if she wants to have a one-night stand. That would be the easiest thing to do. No complications. No emotions. Utter honesty.

But I'm too much of an American puritan to be so blunt. I start up the incline, determined to act normal. The fact is, I'm enjoying the sexual tension, the flirting, the unknown. "Do you have siblings?"

She moves with a graceful ease, her long legs eating up the brick ground. The muscles under her jeans stretch the thick material. This is a casual stroll in the park for her, while I feel as if I'm running a 5K. "No. Just me. You?"

"A younger sister." This at least, is the truth. "She's fourteen."

She tucks her hands in her jean pockets. God, I love her hands. Large, strong, sinewy and elegant all at once. "Your parents let you travel alone, like a graduation present?"

"No, not alone." I lie because even though her hotness is muddling my mind, I've retained a tiny bit of common sense. I don't know her, and don't want her to think I'm some vulnerable girl, ripe for taking advantage of. "My cousin will be here soon. And I'm staying with Rosé, the woman you met."

"Right."

She continues up the incline, talking about the area, but I barely hear because suddenly the ground shifts, the world wobbling off its axis. The loud buzz that rings in my ears like a warning bell is all too familiar.

No. No. No! Not now!

I brace my hand against the wall, waiting for the dizziness to pass, praying it goes away before she notices. Oblivious, Lisa continues on. Slowly, ever so slowly, the world starts to refocus. A few more moments and I'll be back to normal. I hope.

Too late.

Lisa pauses and glances back at me. I don't miss the concern that crosses her features. "Still have jetlag?"

Because I'm young, I'm supposed to be in shape. Full of energy. I wonder what she sees when she looks at me now, spotting me standing with my hand braced against the wall. Someone pale, weak? Damn it all, I don't want her to see me that way. "I just need to rest. Just a second."

Curiosity flashes across her blue eyes. She knows something is wrong. Something is…off. But she's too polite, or Scandinavian, to say it. I wish I could ignore the sensations and push on, but my knees grow weak and I'm forced to sit on the window ledge.

"Just got over a bad case of flu not too long ago," I explain. Not a complete lie. I had the flu a couple months ago and ended up in the E.R. "Still recovering."

The concern that softens her gaze warms and frustrates me. It's not like I want to sleep with a totally heartless jackass, but at the same time, I wish she wouldn't look at me like I'm a fragile weakling. If I tell her the truth, I'll probably never see her again. Or worse, she'll start treating me like an invalid…taking a playbook from Kai. We've just met. She shouldn't have to deal with my issues. For now, I just want to be a normal girl flirting with her.

"Alright," she says. "No problem. We can take it slow."

I'm not sure if she means our relationship or the hike up this tower. Either way I'm annoyed. I don't have time to take it slow. My mortal clock is ticking. I hate this. Hate that my body is so pathetic. That it betrays me so often. Hate that my mind is ready to jump into the deep end of life, enjoy the surprises and excitement of the world, but my body can't keep up. She sits on the ledge beside me. Outside the small window I can see the rooftops of the row houses. Orange clay tiles, peaks, chimneys, a few spires.

I'm fighting a surge of depression I haven't felt in a long while, and it surprises me more than it worries me. How can I be depressed here, now? "This city is beautiful."

She's watching me as I look outside. Probably trying to understand. Are all American girls this weird? Wonders if I'm worth the trouble. Believe me, Buddy, I'm not.

"It is beautiful," she agrees.

She shifts. Our fingertips touch and her thigh presses to mine. I stiffen, completely aware, but she doesn't seem to notice, nor does she pull away. Is she testing the waters? Or is it completely innocent? A cool breeze sweeps in through the open window. It seems to be urging me on. Reminding me that my time is limited.

Hurry, it whispers.

"Ready?" I stand and start to go before my weakened body catches up with me again.

In my haste, my toe hits one of the cobbled stones. I lunge forward, knowing I'm going to hit the ground hard and realizing there's nothing I can do to prevent it from happening. Firm fingers grip my arm and spin me around, jerking me into a hard chest. Damn my balance. But even as I'm cursing the universe I realize that she's holding me.

Look up, look up and kiss her, the wind whispers through the open window.

"You alright?" Lisa asks.

"Yeah." I flush as I tilt my head back and meet her gaze. It feels so damn good to be held. It's so damn good to feel again. And I sure as hell am feeling. Feeling heat. Feeling chills. Feeling a thrumming ache between my thighs that I've never felt so strongly before. I even feel her heart, strong and sure, beating against my chest. It's romantic. It's perfect. I don't want it to end. It has to end. "I'm fine."

"You know, if you wanted me to touch you, you could have just asked. This falling into my arms thing is a bit much."

She's joking, but I'm tired and I can't dredge up the strength to laugh. Or maybe I'm just tired of lying. I don't want to lie. I hate lying and I've had to do it much too often. "I was sick as a child. I had hearing loss so my balance isn't great."

Her amusement fades and I instantly regret being so blunt. Nothing like talking about sick children to ruin the romance. "You're okay now?"

"Yeah," I say a little too quickly. Another lie, but after today, I'll probably never see her again. This date is going downhill real fast. I force a smile. "I'm fine. Just a little hearing loss. It makes my coordination…off."

"Then I'll just have to get close when I need to say something." She lowers her head, her lips at my ear. A shiver races down my spine. "And stay close to catch you if you lose your balance."

Coming from anyone else, it would sound cheesy. But the warmth of her breath, the energy coming from her body, that accent, all make me melt. Would it be too much to push her into the nearest bathroom and have her now? No. My first time will not be in a freaking restroom.

Determined, I step away from her, putting distance between us. "Tell me about the tower," I say, mostly to make conversation. Also to keep her talking so she doesn't question me further about my illness. I don't miss the amusement in her eyes, as if she knows exactly what I'm up to. I'm so out of my league here.

"Well…" She pauses, her gaze on a small alcove. "Wait. Come here."

She takes my hand and pulls me into the tiny chamber. So small, we have to duck low to get inside and remain kneeling. I realize with some unease that I'm standing on a glass floor in a tiny room big enough for only two.

A tunnel goes straight through the tower, down…down…down into darkness. Dizzy, I gasp, bracing my hands on her broad shoulders. Other visitors are moving up and down the incline but I barely notice them, and most of them don't notice us.

She's holding me close. So close I can feel the heat from her body. Slowly, I tilt my head back and meet her gaze. And as I tilt my head back she lowers hers. Firm lips brush mine. A quick, sweet kiss that leaves me wondering if I dreamt the pressure of her mouth. She pulls back just enough so that her warm breath is the only thing between us.

And just as I'm thinking about taking the lead because Scandinavian hotties are too polite, she leans forward again. This kiss is harder, her mouth molding to mine with a pressure that sends shivers dancing down my spine. And this time her hand slides around my shoulders, cupping the back of my head as she deepens the kiss and holds me captive.

The heat that rushes through me is ruthless. Burning. My very own sexual awakening. It's just a quick stroke of her velvet tongue, a promise of what's to come, and then she's pulling back, leaving me bemused and flustered.

She smiles that lop-sided smile, her teeth flashing white in the dim light. "Come on."

Holy hell. I take in a deep breath, attempting to calm my racing heart, then follow her out of the small room. We continue up the incline as if nothing has happened. As if I'm not panting beside her. As if she didn't just kiss me in a dark alcove while people walked nearby. She takes my hand in hers, a firm grip that surprises and delights me.

"See, you just need something to occupy your mind, so you don't focus on the dizziness."

I slide her a glance. "So you're saying anytime I feel dizzy, I should kiss someone?"

"Exactly." She arches a brow. "Whoever happens to be closest."

"Well, that could land me in jail quickly, but at least I'll have a valid excuse."

My lips tingle from her kiss, and I can still taste her. I want more. I want to feel her tongue rub against mine. Her hard, heavy body lower over me. Know what it's like to feel her pressing down on me, inside of me, doing things that you only see on the internet late at night. So sue me…I get bored and curious when I'm up sick alone.

"Did you see the royal jewelry and crowns while at Rosenborg?" she asks.

Her question startles me from my X-rated thoughts. Are we seriously talking about jewelry when she just freaking kissed me? Maybe this is how adults act after they've kissed. Like… it's no big deal. I wouldn't know. Maybe I'm still in middle school when it comes to sex and relationships. And here I was mocking Ella's naiveté.

"I did see them." After she'd caught me in the room of mirrors I'd fled toward the basement on my way out. I hadn't stayed long. I'd been too tired and too embarrassed to enjoy much of anything that day. How strange that things have turned around so quickly.

"And were you impressed?"

I weigh my words carefully. "Some were pretty. I'm sure to a geologist the jewels would be impressive. And yes, the nature of it all was amazing. To think that the earth can produce such gems, but…"

We pause as we reach a set of narrow stairs that head up to the viewing platform. She gives my hand a gentle squeeze. It's a strange reminder that I'm holding hands with a girl I just met. "But what?"

I shrug, not wanting to offend her or sound condescending. "I don't know. There isn't exactly anything artistic about big chunks of stone, is there?"

She laughs, the corners of her eyes crinkling in amusement. "Most women and men are impressed."

"I prefer things that are more detailed," I try to explain. "Something I know the artist put her heart and soul into. Not something done just to impress."

She braces her hand against the wall, leaning closer to me. I'm trapped between her and the staircase. I don't miss the way her biceps flex, stretching the sleeves of her t-shirt. Damn, she's fit. "So you'd prefer something for ten kroner that is delicate, made by an artist on the street, rather than a crown worth millions?"

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."

She's looking at me as if she 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."

She doesn't speak, but she looks thoughtful again. She's trying to understand me. To assess my sincerity. It makes me uneasy. I clear my throat and straighten away from her. "Ready?"

She 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 she follows, and send my balance into a tailspin. Besides, I can feel her behind me, the strength of her body, the heat. And I know if I fall, she'll catch me. It's oddly reassuring.

She's nice. She's gentlewoman. She'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, she's girlfriend material. But not for me. For some other lucky woman. All that matters is if I'm attracted to her. If she'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, she slides her arm around my waist, stopping me. I freeze, my back pressed to her chest. I can't see her, but I feel every muscle in her body. "You're saying if someone gave you a five carat diamond necklace you wouldn't be impressed?"

I release a nervous laugh. Why does this bother her so much? Maybe she's had a bad experience with women wanting her for her money. Is she wealthy? Or maybe she doesn't have much cash, that's why she works. "No. I'm not a fan of big jewelry."

She turns me slowly so I'm cushioned against her body and we're staring into each other's eyes. It's as if she'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 her. The feel of her hand pressed possessively against my lower back, the way she looks at me as if I'm a mystery she wants to solve, and her wonderful, intoxicating scent.

"Excuse me," someone says.

She tears her gaze from me. Her 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. Lisa 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 her. I'm completely aware of her body behind me. The warmth and strength of her. Her 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 her 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 her 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."

She nods. "I live two blocks away with three roommates. We all go to the same school."

Boldly, I turn to face her, the tall railing at my back. Why did she ask me out? I don't dare speak the question aloud; I don't want to hear her say that I'm just so sweet and fragile looking, she couldn't resist. True story, Kai once said it felt like he was taking care of a porcelain doll. I now hate dolls. She looks at me, studying my features, her own lop-sided smile slowly comes into focus. I love her 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," she 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," she 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." She laughs and wraps her arm around my waist. "I'm not after the secrets of life. I'm just… after you. That's all."

Damn, she'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.

She reaches up and holds onto the bars of the fence behind us, trapping me between her arms. "Am I too blunt?"

"No. I like honesty."

"Good." She 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 her for a long while. Hopefully it will make things more comfortable when we sleep together.

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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 her image of me as a strong woman?

"I'll go first," she says. "Just hold onto the railing with one hand, and press the other to my back."

She doesn't wait for praise. She helps me because she's probably the sort of girl who instinctively takes care of others. She steps down first. Having her in front eases the tension winding through me. I grip the railing with one hand and place my other on her back. She's warm 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 she's steady and sure under my hand. She's the sort of person you can rely on. What if she's not the sort of girl who has one-night stands?

"I was thinking…ice cream."

I cringe. "I hate ice cream."

She laughs, the sound echoing against the walls. "Really?" She turns as she makes it to the ground. Before I can prepare myself, she 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 her the truth. I can't tell her 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.

She takes my hand. "Alright…coffee and pastries then?"

It's on the tip of my tongue to tell her I prefer tea, but that might be pushing it. We start down the twisting incline. "Sounds good. Just nothing with almonds."

"Exactly." She squeezes my hand. "And nothing with milk."

We move by that little room where she 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 her 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 she's not looking at me. She's pulled her phone out of her pocket. She's gotten a call. I see the photo of a gorgeous redhead on the screen right before she shoves it back into her 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. She's twenty-three and hot. Of course she's dating other women.

"This way," she says, leading me down a road. But things have changed. She's not smiling anymore. Her gaze isn't on me, but on some point in the distance, as if her 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…" She pauses and pulls out her phone again. I don't miss the way her lips tighten. She 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," she stuffs her phone into her back pocket. "But I have a family issue. I have to go."

Family my ass. I'm not surprised when she doesn't meet my gaze, because I'm pretty sure she's lying. My stomach sinks. I can handle her dating other women. I can't handle being dumped in the middle of our date for one of those women. "Oh, okay."

She leans forward and kisses me on the cheek. Just a brush of her lips. A sweep of her scent. But it's a friendly kiss. Something European. She'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, she's gone, weaving her way through the crowds. Stunned, I watch her until she 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."

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