What Happens Abroad (10 page)

If I was being honest with myself, I admitted that I did miss being with Jim. He had seemed so right for me, and even though our breakup had tanked my English grade and thrown me into a total fog, it would be sort of comforting to know that there was someone waiting for me back home.

But despite that, I realized I had missed Hunter more. Maybe it was just our physical connection, or maybe it went deeper than that, but I had to admit that I'd never thought about Jim in quite the same way that I had been longing for Hunter. Carefully, I composed an e-mail. I told him I was in Europe, and that I didn't know when I'd be back. I decided not to mention Hunter, though; what if I somehow jinxed whatever was going to happen with him by putting it in writing?

After I hit Send, I paused for a moment, my hands hovering over the keyboard, waiting for some pain in the pit of my stomach to tell me I'd made a mistake, but nothing happened. I exhaled slowly and started skimming through the rest of my in-box. There was a message from my adviser, and I debated opening it, but then I flagged it and tried to pretend it wasn't there. I wasn't ready to face that reality yet, and worrying about school wasn't going to help me with my immediate problem.

Surprisingly, there was an e-mail from my mom, and I realized that I hadn't even tried to call her since I'd arrived in Italy. Feeling guilty, I shot her a quick response, mentioning the art history course I was pretending to take, and promising to call her soon. A lump formed in my stomach as I typed the lies, but I couldn't tell her the truth. Not now, and probably not ever. I'd just have to keep the whole mess a secret from her when I got home.

Pushing that daunting thought out of my mind, I clicked on my drafts folder and pulled up the letter I'd started writing to Hunter. I skimmed it, biting my lip. Before I could change my mind, I asked the guy at the front counter if I could print something, and quickly handed over another euro. I folded the e-mail printout and tucked it into my bag. I wasn't sure what I was going to do with it; part of me wanted to just give it to Hunter and let the letter do the talking, but another part of me was afraid that he'd change his mind if he read the evidence of what a basket case I'd been since leaving Paris.

As I walked back to the apartment, I stopped to buy stuff for dinner, wondering if I could stretch my culinary abilities to impress him. I ended up just getting spaghetti and sauce again, but I did buy two bottles of wine; one to cook with, and one for dinner, and I also bought a bouquet of bright sunflowers from a vendor on the corner near the apartment.

I didn't have the key, but I'd assumed Sarah and Joelle would be back at the apartment, so I was startled when I stepped out of the elevator and tried to open our door, only to find it locked. Annoyed, I sat down in the hall with my back to the door. What the hell was I supposed to do now?

At least none of the groceries are perishable
, I told myself. I riffled through my bag, looking for my sketchbook. I dug through the bag twice, but I couldn't find it. God, what if the old woman had swiped that instead of my wallet? I tensed at the thought; I'd been adding to the sketchbook the entire trip, and all my best and worst memories of Europe were preserved between the pages. Sighing, I leaned back against the door, hoping I had just left it in my room when I went out.

A door opened down the hall, and Topher stepped into view. I sat up a little straighter, suddenly nervous.

He waved at me. “Locked out?”

I nodded. I hadn't seen him since that night in the park, and I wasn't sure how to act. “Yeah.”

“You can come next door and hang out with us, if you like.”

Hesitantly, I shook my head. “No, thanks.”

He nodded, and uncomfortable silence descended. Finally, Topher cleared his throat. “You're pretty special, Camie. I hope I didn't do anything stupid.”

I shook my head. “No, not at all.”

His eyes brightened. “Then maybe you can spare another kiss? Sober this time.”

I laughed, but I shook my head. “I don't think that's a good idea.”

“Why not?”

“Well,” I paused. I didn't really know what to say.

Topher's smile fell. “There's somebody else, isn't there?”

Slowly, I nodded. “Yeah.”

“That's always my luck.” He sighed. “I hope he shows you a good time, Camie.”

A nervous giggle escaped my lips. “I don't think I'm looking for a good time. I think,” I paused, staring up at him, “I think I'm ready for something real.”

Topher chuckled. “My loss. If you decide you'd rather just have some fun, you can always come and find me.”

“Thanks,” I said drily. “I'll keep that in mind. When are you guys moving on?”

He shrugged. “Soon, probably. The mates want to see Rome, and,” he sighed dramatically, “there's nothing to keep me here anymore.”

I laughed at him. “Good-bye, Topher.”

“Remember me as your backup plan!”

I shook my head, but I was smiling. “I hope I won't need a backup plan!”

I fell asleep in the hallway, and I woke up when Joelle kicked my knee gently. “How long have you been out here?” she demanded.

I shrugged, stretching. “I don't know. Since early afternoon. What time is it?”

“Almost seven.”

“Oh, shit!” I jumped up. “Hunter's coming for dinner.”

Joelle raised an eyebrow. “Do you want me and Sarah to eat somewhere else?”

I hesitated as she unlocked the apartment. I'd told Hunter I wanted him to eat with all of us, but for some reason, I was eager to be alone with him. Maybe it was the talk with Topher that had done it; I'd actually admitted out loud that I wanted things with Hunter to work. “I don't know,” I finally said.

Sarah smiled. “We can help you cook, at least.”

I shook my head. “It's just spaghetti again. I should be fine.”

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door, and I froze. Joelle took one look at my expression and laughed. “Chill, girl.”

She opened the door. Hunter was standing there, looking a little ill at ease, and my heart cracked open. God, he was so cute.

“Hi, Hunter. We're just leaving.” Joelle grabbed Sarah's arm and tugged her toward the door.

I rolled my eyes.
Really subtle
. Hunter glanced at me and then back at my roommates. “I don't want to chase you guys away or anything.”

Sarah shook her head. “No worries. We were going out tonight, anyway. Camie just forgot.”

I forced myself to nod. “Have fun!”

Joelle winked at me around Hunter's back. “You, too.” She pulled the door shut behind her, and Hunter and I were left alone in the entryway.

“Um, I brought flowers,” he began, pulling a bunch of bright yellow sunflowers out from behind his back.

I laughed. “So did I!” I pulled mine out of the shopping bag. “Great minds!”

He grinned. “I wasn't sure what you would like.”

I shrugged, taking the flowers from him. “I don't really have a favorite,” I said, as I went into the kitchen and started hunting for a vase. It was true, but I wondered if after tonight, sunflowers would become my favorite flowers. Either that, or I'd never be able to look at them again.

Hunter reached easily above one of the cupboards and pulled down a blue porcelain pitcher that I hadn't noticed. “Will this work?”

“Perfect! Just like a still life.”

Hunter chuckled. “Everything is art to you.”

I shrugged, suddenly self-conscious. “Um, I'm sorry dinner isn't ready. I was locked out until a few minutes ago.”

He looked at me quizzically. “How'd that happen?”

“We only have the one key. It's worked out, mostly,” I laughed ruefully, “except for today.”

Hunter looked around the small kitchen. “What are we having?”

I gestured to the box of noodles. “Spaghetti.”

He grinned. “Sounds like a true Italian meal.”

“Or one of the few things I can cook without ruining it,” I blurted out.

Hunter's smile stretched even wider. “I can help, if you want.”

“There really isn't much to do. Just boil water and simmer the sauce.”

“You're in Italy, and you're making dinner out of a box and a jar?”

I blushed. “When you put it that way, it sounds so stupid.”

Hunter shook his head. “No. It's charming.”

I turned away, embarrassed, and pulled the big pan out of the cupboard. Hunter took it from me.

“You. Sit. Have a glass of wine. Let me do the cooking.”

“It's just a jar! I can handle it!” I protested.

Hunter laughed. “I know you can. But I want to cook for you. The last time I tried, well . . . ,” he trailed off.

I shook my head ruefully. “I was too sick to enjoy it.”

He nodded, silent, and I knew we were both thinking about that awkward morning in Paris . . . and the night before. I looked away first, my heart pounding. Suddenly, the kitchen felt way too small.

“I'll be right back,” I said, rushing out of the room before he could answer. I locked myself in the bathroom for a few minutes and studied my peeling face in the mirror. “Just breathe,” I told my reflection firmly. “It's only dinner.”

But my heart was thumping as I stepped back into the hall, and I might have run all the way back to the kitchen and into Hunter's arms if I hadn't stubbed my toe on something. Biting back a curse, I looked down and spotted my sketchbook sitting in the doorway of my room, sticking halfway out into the hall. I knelt down and picked it up with a smile, relieved that it hadn't been stolen like I'd thought.

With a glance toward the kitchen, I flipped the cover open, turning randomly to the page I'd ruined when Hunter startled me outside Notre Dame. Tracing the dark pencil mark across the page, I flipped through a few of my sketches, and then and there, I decided that I was tired of being too scared to go after what I wanted.
And that goes for more than my art.

Closing the book, I set it down on my bed and headed back to the kitchen, determined to listen to my mixed-up heart.

Hunter hadn't started cooking yet, and he raised an eyebrow at me expectantly when I came into the room. My breath caught, but I hopped up on the counter, keeping my words light. “If you're going to cook, at least let me supervise.”

Hunter grinned. He uncorked the wine and poured me a glass. “Whatever you say, princess.”

I laughed. “God, I thought you'd forgotten that ridiculous nickname.”

Hunter winked. “Not going to happen. I'm going to call you princess until you're old and gray, whether you like it or not.”

My heart started to pound. His tone was teasing, but his words made my pulse speed up. Hunter wanted to be with me for that long? I took a sip of wine to cover my confusion, and he filled the pot with water.

Watching him cook was surprisingly fun. He seemed totally at ease in the small kitchen, and he was ecstatic when he found a pepper, an onion, and half a head of garlic in the fridge. They must have been left over from one of the meals Sarah or Joelle cooked, but I'd forgotten about the produce. Hunter chopped and diced, adding the veggies to the simmering sauce, and pausing to refill my wine. We talked as he worked, and he told me some of the travel stories he'd racked up in the past three years.

I told him about Joelle and Sarah, and when I described the fort to him, his eyes lit up. “That would be a fun place. Maybe you and I can check it out after dinner.”

I shrugged noncommittally. The idea of dancing with Hunter was hot, but I was still sort of shy around him. It was weird; my heart was made up, but my mind kept pulling me back. While he was cooking, I almost got down off of the counter a dozen times to wrap my arms around him and kiss him, but I didn't.

When dinner was ready, Hunter dished it up and took two plates into the dining room. He came back and offered me his hand. Wordlessly, I took it, letting him pull me down from the counter. I leaned toward him, and his other arm lifted to steady me. “Careful,” he said softly.

I'd slid down the counter and into his embrace, but for a moment, neither of us moved. Finally, Hunter brushed a chunk of hair off my face with one finger.

“Oh God, Camie,” he breathed quietly. “I can't be in the same room with you without wanting you.”

Hesitantly, afraid of the way my emotions were spiraling out of control, I reached my arms around his neck. “I know.”

He cocked his head to one side, as if he were asking a question, and I nodded. Carefully, Hunter lowered his face to mine, and this time when he kissed me, I swear there were fireworks. My lips tingled against his, and I inhaled deeply, surprised that his deep, earthy smell already felt so familiar. I melted into him, my body tingling as his hands tightened around me, crushing me in his embrace.

Hunter pulled away slowly, but he was smiling. “We don't want dinner to get cold.”

I wanted to tell him I didn't care about the food, that all I wanted was the chance to kiss him again and again and again, but I smiled. “Okay.” I interlaced my fingers through his and headed toward the dining room. “But we can eat fast, right?”

He grinned. “I like the way you think.”

My lips were pleasantly swollen by the time the key turned in the lock.

Joelle banged the door open and called out loudly, “We're home!”

I laughed. “We're not doing anything.”

She came around the corner and glanced at me. “That's not the story your hair is telling.”

I ran a hand through my hair, but Hunter grabbed it and kissed my palm. “You're beautiful,” he assured me, and Joelle rolled her eyes.