13. Alana #2
I wiggle my eyebrows, trying to keep the secret as long as I can.
Because Grae’s right about the city’s theme.
I lace my fingers with his and slow down my pace, so we are shoulder to shoulder until pausing in front of a building.
“A penis museum?” He asks with equal parts curiosity, humor and disbelief.
I check my watch. “It’s open. Time to go to the best part of Reykjavík.”
The museum itself is filled with various penises in formaldehyde, mostly belonging to animals.
We learn all about mating rituals, sizes, and random factoids about male animals across the web of life.
Not all of them are based in Iceland. They do a really nice job of diversification.
But my favorite are the mythical animals. Chef’s kiss.
“Man, the pigs win the mating game with an orgasm lasting thirty minutes,” I say. After we pass through the animals, we move into the human section. Mostly rock stars. Various oddities. Then there’s the cast of the man with the world’s largest penis. Grae and I both stop and stare.
“I mean,” he says. “Huh.”
I consider the plaster cast. “His dick’s got to get super cold. That’s a lot of empty space between her body and his.”
He laughs and wraps his arms around me. “I sure hope you aren’t expecting or want all of that.”
“I wouldn’t want you any other way.”
Once we’re done, we stop at the gift shop. Of course he buys a shirt that says, ‘You don’t know dick until you’ve been to Reykjavík,’ while I send out a quick text to Markus about being out of the office because something came up.
“The café outside has waffles,” I say. “And they’re shaped like penises.”
“Obviously,” he says, “I would expect nothing less.” But I have a different plan for lunch.
Out on the street he kisses me again, forgetting that we are, in fact, in the middle of a crowd of people.
For the most part, he hasn’t been recognized.
See, here’s the other thing about Reykjavík and Iceland.
The people are stunning. I don’t know what’s going on with the breeding here, but every single person could pass for a supermodel, which means Grae doesn’t stick out.
And if I’m being a tad conceited, neither do I.
We walk to the famous hotdog stand, order and sit down. Although I kinda wish we had gotten the penis shaped waffles.
Across the way I recognize someone and my heart stops. Every one of my instincts kicks in. No, he’s not the Deviant or even anybody related to him. He’s one of Duncan’s guys, and this could pose a problem. He tips his chin in recognition.
I look over at Grae, patting him on the shoulder. “I’ll be right back.” I cross the square and take a seat next to the man. Wrinkles fan out from the sides of his eyes. His face is littered with scars from a lifetime of questionable activities.
“Enjoying yourself?” I don’t bother playing it cool, I go right into threat mode. This is a perfect day and it’s about to be destroyed. “I swear to fucking God, I will ruin you if you say anything.”
He says, “I know the wrath of the Lioness King.” The old-timer pats my hand. “Listen. We’re here because it’s safe. We’re here because there’s no one else like us, and the odds of us running into each other are virtually none. Don’t worry. I’ve got you.”
“No, there are worse things than death, and I’ll make sure they all happen to you.” Message delivered. I shake off my mental armor, shifting back into civilian mode.
Grae, who is finishing the last of his hot dog, watching me carefully as I walk back to the bench. “You know that guy?” he asks.
“Uh, yeah. We went on a tour together,” I say lightly. Grae does not believe me. He has that uh-huh expression.
The problem with Grae is that he can never tell when I’m joking and when I’m serious. I think it’s really obvious, but apparently most of the men in my life can’t figure it out. So they assume that everything is real, which makes my life a lot easier.
The city itself is easy to walk. You can get from one side of downtown to the other in twenty minutes. It’s not even noon yet when we get back to the hotel, but I steer him towards the car. “We’re not done yet, time to explore elsewhere.”
Iceland is known for its natural wonders, and everyone goes to the same few waterfalls.
But there’s one that’s a hidden gem, and it’s the crown jewel in my opinion.
This one is really seven smaller waterfalls in one giant one.
One force of nature that contains many mini clones of itself.
I’m gonna say it—nature is fucking cool.
Grae wraps his arms around my waist as we stand and watch the water. The sound of crashing and rushing rapids is deafening. He’s so close to me, he can whisper, ‘It’s beautiful,’ in my ear. It is, but there’s something even better.
“Look over there,” I say, pointing to sheep on a hill. “Sheep are just goats with a better fashion sense. And there’s more sheep than people, so add that to the list of why this is the best place on earth.”
He laughs. My cheeks burn. The muscles around my mouth start to ache. I realize I’ve been smiling the entire time. He rests his chin on my shoulder and whispers again.
“You don’t get to do this very much, do you?”
“What?”
“Just be your weird-ass self.”
Yeah. I don’t get to be myself. I’m always guarded. Always on edge. It’s the life I picked.
But there’s one last place we need to see before we spend some much-needed time in the hotel room. Of course, no trip to Iceland is complete without a trip to one of the geothermal high-end spas. Once we change into our swimsuits, we float around the milky blue water.
“That’s the thing about this place,” I say as we soak. “Yes, there’s tourist stuff because Instagram made the whole area explode. But it’s also based on what’s already here. The culture. The landscape. This place is amazing.”
“No, it’s great. I do really like it.” He side-eyes me. “I don’t know if it’s the best place on Earth.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“Well, in order to win in order to convince me, I’m going to have to show you my favorite city.”
I groan. “No, no. I was claiming this is the best. You wanted evidence.”
“Yeah,” he says. “And now I have to show you why Kyoto is the correct answer.”
“We don’t have time,” I blurt. “You only have two weeks, Grae. And now you’re down to twelve days because of travel. We simply do not have time to fly out to Kyoto.”
“You’re the one with the power to adjust the timeline,” he says.
“Yeah, no. We’re going to claim I’m the best and I win.”
“I don’t know,” he smirks. “I think you’re afraid you’re going to lose if you go to another city.”
“Shut up,” I retort, and I splash him. He splashes back.
“Ok, you can stick to this timeline that you arbitrarily picked, or you can win our little contest. But you can’t have both.”
“Now you’re assuming that I’d agree this place isn’t as good as Kyoto. And that’s bullshit." He glides closer to me, hooks his fingers on the side of my bikini bottoms and yanks me against his chest.
“You’re in charge here, Alana. It’s your game, your rules, and your time.” I hold his gaze, it’s earnest and kind.
“And if you had your choice, what would you want?” I ask.
“No games.” His lips press against my neck as we float in the water.
“No rules.” His fingers slide into my bikini bottoms and stroke my clit.
I blame the hot water for my flushed, wet skin.
His other hand snakes around my body and slithers through my hairline, pulling me into a deep kiss and whispering, “And infinite time.”
“Let's go back to the hotel,” I murmur. “But you're still in your free trial experience. I haven’t decided if I’m signing up for the full service.”