SEE THE SITES IN NORWAY

Make Out In Public


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"Torsk, or fish, as you say," Lisa explains as she 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 her.

"Close," she 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 I'm finally making use of a cute gray sweater that my mom purchased for me when she realized how outdated my winter clothing was.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 Lisa'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."

Wendy 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!"

Lisa points the spatula at her. "Yes."

It's almost dark, and the harsh angles of Lisa's face are highlighted by the light from the grill, making her 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 Lisa, wrap my arms around her waist and press the side of my face to her back is overwhelming. If Wendy wasn't watching us closely, trying to judge the seriousness of our relationship, I would. The motorcycle ride around her city yesterday was amazing. We'd stopped at sites, taken silly photos, and gotten dinner. Spent the day alone, exploring. She'd been so proud and excited to show me her 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 Wendy.

"Jennie," Wendy offers. She's the opposite to Max's manliness. She's delicate, feminine and utterly French. "Jennie'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…"

Wendy slaps her hand over his mouth.

I don't miss Lisa's smile as she glances at me and I know she's thinking dirty thoughts. I shake my head, warning her to keep it to herself, even as I remember what Lisa did with her tongue last night. I can't stop the warm flush of pleasure from racing through my body.

"You're embarrassing Jennie," Wendy 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 Lisa, and what I haven't experienced with her yet. Do I want to know more? Stupid question. Hell, yes. I do. "Exactly."

"Almost done?" Wendy asks Lisa. "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," Wendy says, slapping Max on the gut, so he grunts. "Sorry, Jennie."

"Don't tease her," Lisa says, pointing her spatula at Max like it's a sword. "She can eat as much as she wants."

An image of Jisoo 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.

"Lisa?" Wendy perks up. "No. That's definitely not her type."

I'm surprised, but manage to hide it. So Jisoo isn't her type? I pick up another chip and dip it in the guacamole I made earlier. Is Jisoo truly just her friend? "So then, what is her type?"

She parts her lips to respond.

"Food is ready," Lisa interrupts, changing the subject, which does not go unnoticed. "Let's eat. Quickly."

I grin over Lisa obvious unease.

Wendy leans closer and in a faux whisper says, "I'll tell you later."

Lisa 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 Lisa, 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?" Wendy 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. Lisa doesn't seem to notice. She's smiling as she dishes up her plate, offering her own witty comments. I shift in unease. Surely Lisa doesn't see me as her girlfriend. Or maybe it means something different 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 Wendy is watching us. She's trying to decide how serious we are. Hopefully if she figures it out, she'll let me know. Lisa hands me a plate of fish. She cooks, cleans and serves as much as any woman in America.

Out front you can still hear the sound of tourists as they meander through the streets, wishing they lived here. Lisa doesn't seem to mind their constant presence. She's so easy-going, nothing upsets her. I slept in her room last night, and when I'd woken up warm, curled into her 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. Lisa 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," Lisa says, handing me my plate and startling me from my depressing thoughts.

With a forced smile, I take the offering. She's watching closely as she sits on the bench next to me, as if she knows something is wrong.

Wendy launches into a work story, and Lisa rests her 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 her back in bed. I bite into the fish and sigh. It's delicious, delicate, sweet and smoky.

"Good?" Lisa 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 Wendy 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?"

Lisa lightly squeezes my knee. I grin, wondering how far I can push her. Surely she's not jealous. Lisa isn't the jealous type, is she?

"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," Lisa says, leaning into me and kissing my neck. "Exactly right."

I grin up at her even as shivers of delight race down my body, and Max and Wendy 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?" Wendy 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."

Wendy 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. Wendy 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 Lisa'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 Lisa, I wouldn't have cared. "How many languages do you speak?"

"Three. French, German and English," Wendy says, taking a bite of fish. "And Max two."

I look at Lisa.

"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?"

She takes a swig of beer, and I know she's trying to bide her time. She's embarrassed, or maybe she doesn't want to embarrass me. "Danish, Norwegian, English, and French. And a little German."

"Nothing like being overly accomplished," I tease her, nudging my shoulder into her arm, using the excuse to touch her. I wish she'd touch me. I shift, pressing my thigh to her, but she doesn't seem to get the hint. Dare I just grab her hand and hold it?

Wendy jumps from Max's lap, picks up the chip bowl and heads toward the French doors. "Oh Lisa is perfect. Utterly perfect. Hadn't you heard?"

She's teasing, but we all know there's some truth to the statement. Lisa is perfect…so why doesn't she have a girlfriend? No one can meet her high standards? Or does she just like to play the field?

"Hardly," Lisa mutters.

"That's right," Max says, as Wendy disappears inside. "If you knew the stories I do…"

I clap my hands. "Oh do tell!"

"Let's not," Lisa replies.

It's fun seeing her so uneasy. Ms. Always in Control is nervous. I slide my arm round her waist and lean into her, kissing her shoulder. "Oh come on."

She 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."

Wendy 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 Lisa likes my legs?

"When Lisa found out she was being picked on, Lisa was livid. So she planned to humiliate the bastard. We basically cat-fished him, made him think this really hot girl in school was interested."

"Evil!" Wendy says, laughing at Lisa. "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," Lisa explains.

Lisa sounds sad and I wonder why. The others don't seem to notice. But I do. I notice everything about her. The way she rubs her neck when she's unsure. The way she gives that lop-sided smile when she's truly happy. The girl is creeping more and more into my affections.

"Well that's no fun," I said softly. "That's just being honorable."

Lisa looks somewhat uneasy as she draws her fork through her fish. "It's what anyone would do…protect their friends."

"Oh please. Lisa is not like anyone else," Wendy says. "You would take in a homeless person you'd just met. Practically did with me. She sees me crying on the street corner, having 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. "She has a hero complex. Always has to save someone. Why do you think she's friends with Jis—"

Wendy elbows him in the gut, cutting him off.

Jisoo. Lovely, wonderful, model-like Jisoo. 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, Lisa feels like she's her protector. If this wasn't just a fling, I'd be annoyed.

"She's had a hard life," Lisa defends the woman, much to my annoyance. "You know that."

"Haven't we all?" Wendy 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 Jisoo 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?" Wendy says, and I don't miss the accusatory tone she takes. Wendy, apparently, isn't falling for Jisoo's sob story.

Lisa doesn't respond, which means of course she knew. I'm not sure whether to be frustrated or resigned. If Lisa runs off and leaves me again for her… Yet, how can I deny her the right to offer Jisoo comfort? They've known each other since the beginning of time.

"Anyway, I do not have a hero complex," Lisa says. "Look at Jennie. She doesn't need saving. She's the most independent woman I've dated."

I smile at her. But it's a forced smile. Hell, does she sense there's something wrong with me even if she doesn't realize it? Hero complex or not, if she stayed with me she'd realize that sometimes you can't save people.

"So." I look to Max to change the subject. "Where is your sister now?"

They grow quiet again, and between the downcast glances, I realize it was the wrong thing to ask. Lovely. This party is getting worse by the minute.

Max takes a drink of his beer. "She died."

The words hit me like a punch and I feel guilty as hell bringing it up. "I'm so sorry."

He gives me a tight smile and nods. I know that look. Sorry doesn't cut it. Sorry doesn't help. And because I know better than to continue, I drop the subject and eat, while they make small talk around me.

Wendy smiles and teases Max, trying too hard to lighten his dour mood. Lisa is quiet beside me and I can't help but feel that it's my fault. Didn't I bring up Lisa's type? Didn't I ask about Max's sister? This socializing thing is more complicated than I realized.

As I take in their faces, these people I've come to care about in such a short time, and see the darkness there, lurking within their gazes, I'm reminded again that death doesn't just affect the dead. It affects the living much, much more. When I'm gone my mom will be devastated, Ella will be lost.

And Lisa….she won't have to know. She won't have to mourn because I'm not telling her. In a few days I'm leaving. In a few days this will be just a memory. Sure, she might want my email or number. We'll text. Write. But I'll make sure our contact fades off, and she'll forget all about me once she returns to school. It happened with most of my friends, it will happen with her too. But I'm not angry.

She'll forget about me. Move on. Just as it should be. Just as I planned.

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An hour later I'm in the bathroom brushing my teeth and pinching my cheeks to add some color when I hear Max and Wendy retire to their room. I'm thinking over what Wendy and Max have divulged.

Lisa has a hero complex.

It's a thought I don't want to dwell on. I want Lisa to see me as strong. I want her to see me as…me, not a problem. I smooth down my skirt, and head back down the stairs. The house is quiet. Lisa is sitting outside alone. I pause for a moment, watching her through the doors. The wind tousles her hair, plasters her shirt to her chest. There's a quietness about her that pulls to me. She looks at peace here, as if she belongs.

At the same time, there's something about her I can't ignore. A weight that she carries. We all have our demons to battle, my father told me once. What are her demons? She's a good girl. Charming. Smart. But there's something else too…something she doesn't let others see. A pain, a darkness.

I open the door and step out into the chilly night. She reaches for my hand, and pulls me toward her. There is a connection between us I can't deny. I settle on her lap, her thighs hard and muscled under my bottom. The light upstairs goes off, and the backyard is thrown into darkness.

It's quiet. Finally so quiet. The tourists are gone. The only sound is the wind through the trees and bushes, rattling the leaves. Her body is warm, comforting underneath me. Lisa tugs at my sweater sleeve until the collar falls down off my shoulder. The cool air whispers against my skin right before she presses her mouth there. I close my eyes on a blissful sigh and sink into her. In this moment I realize I could stay here forever.

Her hand rests on my bare knee, her other arm around my waist. Desperate, I turn my face toward her and find her lips. As she kisses me, slowly, ever so slowly, as her hand moves up my thigh, under my skirt. I gasp against her mouth. She feels good. So damn good. I wrap my arms around her neck, holding her tight, clinging to her, knowing she'll keep me safe. Secure.

"Don't go to Sweden," she murmurs against my lips. "Stay here."

If I stay here, the lie will continue for another week. If I stay here, our connection will deepen. Her hand reaches the top of my thigh. I can barely think, let alone form a coherent thought. Her finger traces the elastic band of my panties. Oh. Dear. God. I'm going to die.

"I…I don't know."

"Just say yes." She tilts her head back and meets my gaze, even as her finger traces the outline of my underwear. She's taunting me. Making me frantic. Seducing me. "You don't need to see Sweden anyway. You saw it across the water."

I laugh, a strangled, desperate sound. We need to end this. I should push her hand away, stand up. Leave. I can't. She slides her finger underneath the elastic band. I bury my face into her shoulder and bite my bottom lip to keep from moaning. When her thumb brushes my clit, I jump, gasping. Her arm tightens, holding me safe, captive.

"Stay with me," she murmurs, right before she kisses me.

Our tongues entwine. She tastes of mint. Of her. There are so many things I should say. Things we need to discuss before this goes on. Instead, I focus on her mouth. The feel of her velvet tongue as it rubs against mine. The rough texture of her fingers as she pushes them down…down, through my sleek folds.

One more time, one more kiss, one more touch, I tell myself. Just one more, and then I'll pull back from her, mentally, physically, emotionally. The ache low in my belly flares, tightening almost painfully. Once more, and then I'll end it all. Look for a hotel in Sweden. Plan my escape. I arch my hips, pressing against her palm. One more.

Her mouth is on mine as she slides her finger inside of me. I'm starving for this woman. Addicted to her. My body is no longer my own. I have no control and rock my hips, taking her deeper. Her finger slides in and out of me while her thumb brushes my clit and her tongue devours my mouth. The heat builds. I feel surrounded by her. Her scent. Her touch. Her very being.

I realize with a start that I could fall for her. The truth pierces my lust. Suddenly, I'm not sure who I'll be saving if I leave….her or me. The tightly held control on my emotions is wavering. If the dam bursts, I know I'll drown in feelings I'm not prepared to handle.

"We shouldn't be doing this," I say, even as my hands run under her shirt and I soak up her warmth. "I have to go soon. It won't end well."

Her finger is still inside me. "Are you worried you're getting too attached to me?"

I release a husky laugh. Whether she's joking or not, it's the truth. "Yes."

"I could get addicted to you," she whispers against my lips, not helping the matter. She's supposed to be rational about this. "Your scent drives me insane. I can smell you on my sheets, my pillows. Do you have any idea how good you smell?"

Her words destroy me, make me weak and vulnerable. I mumble something indecipherable as I run my hands up under her t-shirt and over her muscles. I want to trail kisses down her chest, over her stomach. I want to taste her in my mouth. I start to tug her shirt over her head when the back porch light from the rental cottage next door comes on. My hands freeze against her stomach. Damn it all to hell.

"Shhh," she whispers, a flash of white teeth that tell me she's enjoying this a little too much. "They won't notice."

I'm trembling in her arms. I can't move, afraid of drawing attention to us. She shifts under me. I slide farther down onto her lap, and her finger goes deeper. I suck in my sharp gasp. It's dark, but a patch of light shines from their porchlight and lands about five feet from where we sit.

Her thumb presses against that sensitive spot. A shock wave of pleasure bursts through me. I bite into her shoulder to muffle my groan. I shouldn't move, but I can't help myself. Don't care if all of Norway is watching. I rock against her, desperate to ease the tension.

"Y'all, I can't believe how expensive food is!" someone says in a southern accent that reminds me all too much of home, when I want to forget. "It's ridiculous."

Lisa's breath is harsh and hot against my neck. She wants me. I can feel it in the tense lines of her body. The bulging erection pressing hard and hot to my ass. I rock against her once more and a low growl rumbles in her chest.

"And the waiter was so gosh darn rude," another woman replies.

"I know!" Someone huffs in exasperation. "Who doesn't give refills on soda?"

Lisa kisses my neck. A shiver races down my spine. I can hear champagne being opened next door, laughter of the ladies, but it's like a dream. A hazy dream. Right now, my only reality is Lisa and her body, Lisa and her touch.

She slowly pulls her finger from me, and I assume we're going to finish this in her bedroom. Instead, she slides another finger deep inside me. I bite down hard on my bottom lip. She's not done. I should push her hand away. I should stumble off her lap and race inside to maintain a bit of modesty. Instead, I hold perfectly still. Her tongue darts out and she licks my neck, teasing me. I shiver. It's too much. She's too much.

And then her thigh starts moving, her fingers surging in and out of me, as her thumb works its magic on that perfect spot. It's all consuming. The sensations overwhelm me. My entire body is trembling as I try to hold back. In some ways this feels even more confusing, scarier than the first time we were intimate. I'm trusting her to take care of me. Trusting her that we won't get caught.

"Come for me," she demands in a breathless whisper near my ear. "Now."

Just when I think I'll go insane from the ache, I come. I bite into her shirt and muffle my cries as I pulse around her. She's just made me come outside, in public, where the neighbors could look over the hedges and see us. Where someone from that skyscraper on the hill in the back could notice. I don't care.

Slowly, I float back into my heavy, sated body, aware of her scent clinging to me. Aware of her throbbing erection still demanding attention against my bottom. I smile a slow, seductive smile and imagine what I'd like to do to her in return. There's no time for modesty.

"Oh, hello there," a woman calls out.

I stiffen. We've been spotted. My face heats even as I tell myself I look like I'm merely sitting on her lap for a cuddle. They have no idea Lisa's finger is still inside me. No idea that her hands have worked their magic…again.

Lisa grins. She's amused by this. Bastard. "Hello," she calls back. "Enjoying your visit?"

Fortunately, my back is to her, she can't see my heated face, hear my harsh breath. "Yes, very lovely. We'll make sure to keep it down."

"No worries." Lisa slides her finger out of me, a slow and delightfully torturous moment where I have to swallow my groan. She stands, helping me to my feet. She's got a raging erection that's pressing to her jeans but my skirts cover it.

I get my first look at the woman spying over the fence. She's all eagerness and watchful eyes. The kind of neighbor who bakes you a dish, just to get the latest gossip she can share. We had one of those when I first became ill. Mrs. Fought would bring over food, listen sympathetically to my mom, tell her it was in God's hands, and she would pray for us, then hurry to the other neighbors to give the latest gossip on that poor Kim family.

Lisa takes my hand. "We were just going inside."

I smile sheepishly at them. "Have a good evening."

Her grip is tight, her pace quick, so fast I can barely keep up. She's desperate, I realize. She needs the same release I experienced moments ago. That low ache returns, my desire flares. I know exactly what we'll do when we reach her room. I've become a sex fiend.

"What a sweet girl, and cute too, did you see her?" I hear the woman ask her friend. "And the other girl…"

"You," I hiss when she closes the French doors. My body is still humming from her touch. I can feel the imprint of her hands on me, her fingers inside me. "Are unbelievable."

Slowly, she turns toward me. "But you enjoyed it."

There's a heat in her gaze that makes me shiver, makes me nervous and excited all at once. That area between my thighs still tender, and throbs to life. She starts toward me, her steps determined, her gaze piercing.

My heart hammers madly and I stumble back. "Maybe. It was…nice."

"Nice?" She tugs her shirt over her head, dropping it to the couch. "Nice? Did you think we were done?"

I can't help but drop my gaze to her chest, to her pecs, and biceps that flex as she moves. To the abs that ripples as she walks. My hands curl. I want her. Already, I want her again. She's still stalking toward me when I spin around, racing up the stairs, knowing she follows.

Tomorrow, I tell myself. Tomorrow I'll decide what to do.

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