Chapter 1 #2
I pause, staring at the ridiculous expanse of pillows and silk sheets.
Wait. Do beds this size even exist in the U.S.? Whatever it is, I need it in my life. Immediately.
“Oh my God, why are we yelling?” I groan again, dragging the blanket over my head.
“There’s no way you’ve been awake for hours,” I mumble. “If that were the case, we wouldn’t still be in bed, and you would’ve woken me up ages ago.”
I yawn, poking my head out from under the blankets, already regretting it.
“Who knows. I'm just relieved you’re finally awake.” She dramatically clutches her stomach. “I was about to die of starvation. Oh, and by the way, I’d like you to know that I like your room better than mine.”
I open my mouth to respond, but she throws up a hand, stopping me mid-breath.
“Before you ask, nothing’s wrong with it. It's gorgeous. I mean, obviously, we have taste.” She flips her hair, which only makes me want to laugh even more. “But it's just way too far away from your room, and honestly it's spooky as hell. First night in a foreign country? Alone? No thanks.”
I snort because I already know where this is going.
She crosses her arms like she’s preparing for a fight. “Look, I don’t want to be in my room alone. And who knows if some Peeping Tom could be lurking outside my window. You’d be all the way over here, fast asleep, totally unaware that I was getting kidnapped.”
“Fine!” I say through my laughter. “You can stay in here, I guess.”
Rachel grins triumphantly, already pulling the blankets around her like she’s won something. I shake my head, unable to stop smiling.
She’s an absolute lunatic. I love her to death, but she’s definitely watched way too many true crime shows alone in the dark.
Sitting on the plane next to her was an experience, to say the least. I should’ve put her in the middle seat between two strangers. Maybe she would’ve held it together a little better.
Rachel is terrified of flying. Keep in mind she wanted to come on this trip, fully aware how long the flight was. And yet, there she was, holding onto my hand with a death grip, cutting off my circulation the entire way.
And the movie she chose to watch?
Taken.
Of all movies to watch when traveling internationally, she picked the one about international kidnappings.
I told her she was making things worse for herself. And what was her response?
“I’m just preparing myself for the worst, so I know how to react.”
See what I mean? Absolute lunatic.
She waves me off like it’s no big deal. “Okay, okay. What’s the plan? What time is it?”
I roll my eyes. “Well, I was about to check before you startled me awake like a demon-possessed toddler. I nearly had an out-of-body experience and fell off the bed.”
She snorts, finally bursting into laughter, and I can’t help but grin. Classic Rachel. Chaos first, questions later.
I push myself up, stretching out the jet lag from my limbs. “Do you want to go out tonight?” I glance at her. “Maybe a pub? I’d rather avoid anything too… touristy. Not my scene.”
She arches an eyebrow. “And you think it's mine?”
I shrug. “Touché.”
Checking my phone for the third time, I blink. “It's 6 p.m! We slept that long?”
“You slept that long,” Rachel announces, pulling out her phone with an exaggerated sigh. “I’ve been awake for hours.”
I stretch again, trying to shake off the exhaustion, but it lingers.
Lately, I’ve been sleeping more than usual.
It feels like the kind of tired that sleep doesn’t seem to fix.
I’ve just been blaming it on the breakup, the stress, and the fact that I’m finally just catching up on rest after months of feeling on edge.
She rolls over onto her side, scrolling through her phone. Hopefully, she’s actually looking for places to eat because I hate being the one who has to pick.
“Thank God you woke up.” Her eyes are still on her phone. “I was seriously about to jump on top of you and announce that I was dying of starvation, and if you loved me at all, you’d wake up.”
Right on cue, my stomach growls, making Rachel smirk.
“Alright, alright. At this point, I’d go anywhere. Just please let it be somewhere with decent food.”
Rachel’s eyes light up as she wiggles her phone at me. “Good news, there’s a pub just a short walk from here. Cozy and not too touristy. Perfect, right?”
Rachel’s been relentless in trying to get me to drink for years. Especially post-breakup. I told her that on this trip, I’d consider trying a drink or two. I’ve never really had much interest in alcohol.
She thinks it’s about time I lived a little since I didn’t party in my teen years like a normal person.
Whatever that means.
It doesn’t help that several of the douchebags I dated also had alcohol problems. So yeah, drinking’s never really been my thing.
He-who-shall-not-ever-be-talked-about… also an alcoholic. Shocker.
“Let’s just hope this place has more charm than guys with whiskey breath,” I mutter.
Rachel raises an eyebrow. “You know that’s half the appeal of a pub, right?”
I groan, already bracing myself for whatever madness awaits as I force myself to roll out of bed and straight to the fridge for our emergency stash of snacks.
“Let me get an outfit together, something pub-appropriate.” I make an attempt at my best Scottish accent. Which ends up sounding more British, but who am I kidding? I definitely just sounded like an American trying way too hard.
Rachel grabs her stomach, doubling over in laughter, her entire body shakes as she gasps for air.
“It couldn't have been that funny."
She wheezes between laughs, tears in her eyes. “No… it really was.”
I roll my eyes. “Well, clearly, I need to practice more. I’d hate to stick out like a sore American thumb. How embarrassing. After all, my family is from here.”
Rachel finally catches her breath, wiping her eyes, but the moment she looks at me, her face twists in mock horror.
“If you talk like that while we’re out, you will absolutely scare all the men away.” Then, her lips curve into a devious grin. “Which is exactly why you should do it. Because then I’ll pee my pants laughing, and it’ll be the best day of my life.”
This is why we can’t have nice things.
I shake my head, laughing even harder now. Maybe I've got it all wrong, as long as I let her talk first then no one will notice me.
Now we’re both in tears, and I already know I’ll be sore tomorrow from laughing so hard.
I make my way to the closet and I nearly trip over my suitcase lying in the middle of the floor.
Rachel has already made herself right at home. Her clothes are perfectly hung, and her suitcase is neatly tucked away. Bless that organized bitch that I call my best friend. My stuff has magically been unpacked and put away like I have some invisible personal assistant.
Guess she wasn’t kidding about being awake for hours.
I start rummaging through the closet for something that’s not too extra, but still hot, when Rachel grabs her phone and Taylor Swift starts playing through the speaker.
Call me a Swiftie, call me whatever you want, but Enchanted will forever be one of my favorites.
I eye my outfit options.
A little black mini dress? Tempting.
Jean shorts and a tank? Basically, Rachel’s entire personality.
Leggings with a cropped hoodie? The ultimate I’m casual but still hot energy…
After all the traveling, I'm not going to lie, I'm seriously leaning toward the leggings. I'm not trying to impress anyone and honestly I’m still groggy from just waking up, so comfy is calling my name.
Rachel catches the look on my face and immediately steps in like I personally offended her.
“Nope. Absolutely not.”
Before I can protest, she snatches the leggings and hoodie right out of my hands and dramatically tosses them onto the floor like they’re toxic.
“Dress or shorts?” She demands, putting her hands on her hips. “And remember, if there’s music, you’re going to be dancing with me, so choose accordingly.”
As if I hadn’t already thought of that.
I narrow my eyes, half-amused. “You act like I’m new here.”
She grins. “Just making sure.”
After a lot of convincing on my part, I settle on my leather leggings, despite them not being in the official options pile. I top it off with my new lace corset from our pre-trip shopping spree. It’s comfortable and sexy. The perfect middle ground. Which seems to make Rachel happy.
We snack while we finish getting ready because nothing says girls night out quite like a solid girl dinner to kick off a night of questionable decisions and good vibes.
For a two-bedroom, this bathroom is massive. It could probably count as a whole extra room. Rachel is sitting on the counter doing her makeup, when she suddenly stops and looks at me in the mirror.
“Ummm, hi, we’re in Scotland! Finally!”
She's practically bouncing off the sink. “We’re going to have so much fun! I can’t wait to dance and meet all the hot Scottish men. And before you go off on me, I know, I have Bobby.”
She knows exactly what I was about to say.
Bobby.
Rachel's situationship. I refuse to call him her boyfriend, because he won’t even commit to acknowledging their relationship. It’s a disaster waiting to happen. Every title they have? All courtesy of Rachel.
She deserves better. And she knows it… I think.
She sits up straighter, adjusting her red cropped tank in the mirror before giving her boobs an extra push for good measure. Her expression goes completely serious. “Do I need to change into something sluttier?”
I slap my hand over my mouth, trying to smother the laugh threatening to escape.
“Oh, you definitely don’t need to try harder. Pretty sure anyone within a two-mile radius will see the giant neon arrow pointing your way.”
I wave my hand toward her. “Trust me, we look hot. We’ve got this.”
Her gaze drops to my pants, while she silently debates if my outfit meets her ridiculous standards. I brace myself, expecting a critique, but after a long pause, she finally nods in approval.
“Okay, fine.” She sighs dramatically, adjusting her top one last time. “You’re right, those leggings are hot. Your ass looks amazing.”
I smile, putting on my lip gloss. “Duh.”
With both of us finally ready, I rush around tidying up, tossing snack wrappers, organizing the makeup that’s been scattered across the counter, and grabbing last minute essentials.
Phone? Check. Lip gloss? Check. Sanity? Questionable.
Rachel stands by the door, bag in hand, bouncing impatiently on her toes.
“Got everything?” I ask, already knowing the answer.
“Yes,” she huffs, shoving me out the door. “And if we did forget something, it’s three blocks away. We can survive the trek back.”
At least she picked somewhere close, so we don’t end up on some missing persons documentary.