16. CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Early the next morning, we left for Munich, aiming to avoid a repeat of our late arrival in Venice. We stopped along the way, turning our Italian visit into a Shakespearean trio by briefly exploring both Padua and Verona. Their picturesque streets and facades were fresh to my eyes, unlike the touristy images of Venice I’d drooled over for so long. No pre-existing expectations, only the enchanting awe and joy while exploring their beauty.
Beyond the cities, vineyards and flat plains gave way to walls of steep cliffs framing the valley floor. Sometimes they were hidden behind large swaths of thick hedges or trees. During a particularly lengthy stretch, the radio had cut in and out so frequently, we’d given up and shut it off completely. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, but it made time stand still between the quiet and the monotonous spread of indistinguishable scenery.
I snatched my bottle from the console’s cup holder, the warm plastic crinkling. One gulp of the hot water was enough to cure my thirst, but not my momentary boredom. I watched the water inside sway and tremble with the movement of the car, and inspiration struck.
“Never have I ever drank something and had it come out my nose,” I said.
I grinned at Emil as his head turned slowly in my direction. His look clearly questioned if I’d finally lost it.
“Excuse me?” he asked before his eyes returned to the road.
“Never have I ever drank something and had it come out my nose,” I repeated plainly. I had to press my lips together to fight off my laughter as I watched his face work.
“That’s what I thought you said.” He leaned forward, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter. “Are you all right?”
My laugh burst out. “Yes.”
“I don’t understand.”
“It’s a game.”
“Drinking things until they come out your nose?”
“No,” I scoffed. “Never Have I Ever. You haven’t played?”
“No.”
“Then you say, ‘Never have I ever played Never Have I Ever.’” I shrugged as though it was the simplest thing in the world.
He processed a moment. “So it’s a game to learn about the other person?”
I nodded. “Well, you can do it in a group or whatever—and usually there’s drinking involved—but yes, that’s the gist of it.” I cocked my head to the side. “Wanna play?”
“What do I win?”
“It’s not that kind of game.”
His smirk told me all games were that kind of game.
“All right.” He mulled over the possibilities. “Then never have I ever swam in a swimming pool.”
My mouth popped open. “What?”
“Did I do it wrong?”
“No, that was a WHAT what,” I explained before gaping at him. “Never?”
“Never. Just rivers or lakes. ”
I feigned outrage. “The chlorine smell! Swimming in kid pee! The mass of bodies crammed in together!”
Disgust twisted his lips. “Those are good things?”
“They’re terrible things.”
“Why are you upset I haven’t done it, then?” he asked.
“Because I’m jealous,” I said cheerfully, dropping my affronted attitude with a smile. “Good one.”
He shook his head, trapped between bafflement and amusement.
We kept going for a while. Apparently Emil had also never been on an airplane, broken a bone, or gone on a blind date. I teased him that the last was because he knew everyone in Mostar, so it wouldn’t be possible anyway.
I admitted I’d never ridden a roller coaster or gotten a tattoo. Eventually I’d run out of ideas and embarrassingly blurted out, “Never have I ever gone commando,” then had to explain what going commando was.
Emil had burst out laughing.
As we moved north, closer to the Austrian border, the villages became distinctly more Alpine. Wood cabins dotted the grassy knolls, surrounded by cows and sheep. I watched their listless grazing, glimpsing the tips of snow on mountains in the distance.
I noticed my phone had a couple bars of service and pulled up the map of our surroundings to poke around. I was clicking on various towns and nature areas, and my jaw dropped when one image in particular stopped my scrolling.
“Have you heard of the Dolomites?”
“The mountains?”
“Yes,” I breathed, returning to my phone. “They look gorgeous.”
“How far away are they? We could stop for lunch near them if it makes sense.”
I did some research and discovered the closest point, the Odle Group, was only a half an hour detour off our planned route. We stopped beforehand in Bolzano, where we gathered together items for a picnic feast. At the register, I thumbed through postcards, selecting a few showing off the mountains we were about to meet in person.
Back in the car, I set up the directions on my phone before pulling out a pen and starting to write. I started with a bulleted play-by-play to my mom that excluded any mention of my new road trip companion, then completed a novel for Gail with every detail from our days in Venice.
“Who are you writing to?” Emil asked. He sneaked a look at my lap as I filled up the last bit of white space at the bottom.
“Gail,” I said, blowing on the ink so it wouldn’t smear. “I met her on the plane coming over here. I think I mentioned her before on our first dinner date.”
Date?
I wanted to smack my hand across my forehead.
Emil’s expression went vacant as he stared out at the road. “The old lady you said was hitting on you?”
I choked, having forgotten the context. “The one I joked was hitting on me, yes.”
His lips twitched as he fought back a grin. “ Was she hitting on you?”
“No,” I said, drawing out the O playfully, then sighed. “She’s far too cool for me.” I shook my head. “Pity.”
He coughed out a confused laugh. “But you barely know her. What do you say? In your notes?”
I was thoughtful as I considered. “Everything, kind of,” I admitted. “I don’t write like I’m speaking to a stranger.”
Maybe I should .
My face flushed with embarrassment as I pressed on, but my words felt right. “She seemed to get me. I didn’t have to explain myself around her. It was easy, so I just say what I’ve seen and done and experienced so far.”
His eyes searched my face for an moment. “All of it?”
My heart stuttered. “No,” I said softly. “No, not all of it.” I pushed my shoulders back, resetting with a breath. “But everything else. All the good stuff. ”
“So does she know you’ve taken on a travel partner?” he asked curiously.
The corners of my mouth lifted, knowing what he was asking. Yes, he was included in the good stuff. I tapped the postcard against my thigh. “She does now.”
His brows relaxed, his chin dipping in a single nod with a small smile.
The narrow road leading us deeper into the mountains alternated between thick, lush forests and wide grasslands. Then, we were climbing. The switchback roads twisted up the hillsides, my ears popping a few times. The dense forest grew sparser of its broadleaf trees, the evergreens taking over completely with the higher altitudes. Eventually, without fanfare, the road ended near what I believed was a home until I saw a roughly carved sign declaring it a bed-and-breakfast. But my attention didn’t linger there.
Instead, it was drawn up. And up. And up. Up to the pointed peaks of the Dolomites towering over us.
It felt like that scene from Jurassic Park , where the characters first see the dinosaurs at the same time and gape in open-mouthed awe. Emil and I mutely left the car, not even bothering to close the doors as we stopped in front of the bumper to stare. The midday sun drenched the bright limestone faces of the sharp pinnacles. They stabbed toward the cloudless, azure sky from a blanket of boulders and shale at their base, which stretched down until hidden by a line of trees. The mountains seemed so out of place, so unlike any others I’d seen. I imagined an alien landing on Earth would feel something akin to what I was now.
They were undeniably spectacular.
I scooted closer to Emil, who leaned against the hood of the car, ogling the same as me. A cool, crisp mountain breeze ruffled my hair. I breathed it in, my eyes closed, before I squinted at Emil.
“Worth it?” I prompted him.
He looked away from the sight to give me a lopsided grin. “Very.”
“Are you hungry?” I asked, moving to grab the food from the car .
“Yes, but I’m afraid that, if I look away, they might disappear.”
I laughed. “Okay, you watch them to make sure. I’ll get the food.”
No matter how many times we glanced down to fill another cracker with lusciously creamy cheese or to take a sip from our overly-warm water bottles, they remained right where we’d left them. As we packed up lunch, a man from the bed-and-breakfast walked outside and greeted us with a wave.
“Buongiorno,” he said, stopping at the end of the walkway. “Are you lost?”
“Only in amazement,” I teased.
He smiled vaguely. “It’s a little late to start hiking. Do you need a room? I still have one available.”
It was barely after one o’clock, so we had plenty of time to get to Munich, but the offer was tempting. I wasn’t ready to leave.
I pursed my lips and looked at Emil.
His eyes sparkled, reading my expression in an instant. He winked before turning his attention back to the man. “How much?” he said, his bargaining voice returning.
As it turned out, there was a reason this particular room hadn’t been taken. I’d managed to sneak a glimpse inside another while we walked past an open door. It was spacious, and I spotted the large log bed, a TV, a hutch with a kettle and tea fixings, and a rocking chair next to a balcony overlooking the mountains.
Ours was lovable in a summer camp kind of way, decked out with rustic, rough wood walls. Beside the sink sat basic amenities for the morning. A tiny table and stools were shoved into a corner on the right as a makeshift dining area. Against the far wall, a set of bunk beds waited immediately across from where we stood in the doorway. If I had to guess, in a former life, the room had been a large, walk-in storage pantry. I could easily picture it stuffed with seasonal items and knickknacks.
I laughed.
“Umm,” Emil said, the sound drawn out with uncertainty .
“I get the top bunk!” I yelped, running into the room to throw Bertha atop the thin mattress. The bed was so narrow, I wondered if I’d need to sleep exclusively on my side. I tried to hurl myself onto the bunk using only my own momentum, but failed.
“Darn it,” I grumbled. I turned to Emil, whose face was hidden behind his hand. “I wanted to do the run-and-jump thing I’ve seen in the movies. It looks so cool.”
His hand passed down his brow to his chin. His fingertips tapped over his mouth, which was clearly lifted in a smile.
I stuck out my lower lip. “Never have I ever done the Dirty Dancing vault onto a bunk bed.”
He finally laughed out loud. “I don’t know what that is, but I get the idea. Turn around.”
“Why?”
“I’m going to make your dreams come true,” he said in a playfully stern tone.
I arched a brow at such a frank remark coming from him, but did as I was told. He crossed the creaky planks before his hands were on my hips. I sucked in a breath at the contact, my pulse kicking into overdrive, my stomach swooping with a tingle of excitement.
“One, two,” he counted—“three.” On three, I pushed off the floor, and he lifted in unison. I twisted so my butt was at the edge, my legs dangling over the side between his hands, which rested on the bunk’s frame.
“Better?” he asked.
I grinned giddily. “Yes. And now I can check it off my never list.”
He gave a nod, his gaze dropping to my knees, which were at eye level to him. His thumbs brushed against my outer thighs in a caress. Tingles danced across my skin at his soft touch, and I looked up. His eyes bore that hint of darkness I’d spied a few times before, captivating me in their grasp. The moment held, then broke as he took a step back.
“Want to go out and explore awhile?” He cleared his throat as he checked the time. “We’ve got a few hours before night.”
I swallowed, working to subdue the heat that had risen through my body, and nodded.
Our host, Albert—“Just call me Bert”—gave us rough directions to a few trails leading off from the meadow across from the bed-and-breakfast, as well as a reminder that they served dinner at 7:00 p.m. With no other options in the area, I set an alarm on my phone so we’d return in time.
Through the forest, we found ourselves in a wide field. Despite the blistering sun during the day, the wild grasses were still a verdant green from being fed nightly by dew. Wildflowers in pink, white, and blue blanketed the meadow in patches, adding to the cheerful scene. Staring at the mountains during the easy hike was an optical illusion. They were huge, yet always seemed distant, giving the impression that we were walking in place. One vista view to the next provided breathtaking angles, and it was only as the sky began to fade into a burnt orange that we turned back with regret.
Dinner was a simple affair, but delicious, an interesting mishmash of Italy and the region’s former Germanic roots. A crisp white wine was served first with the antipasto consisting of crostini, cheese, and cured meats. For the main course, we each dug into a bowl of crescent-shaped ravioli, filled with potato and drizzled with a brown butter sauce and topped with a sprinkling of parsley. Some sort of apple fritter dusted with cinnamon and sugar was our divine dessert, and I ate more than my share when Emil pushed his last slices toward me. I didn’t argue.
On second thought, maybe I should have. My stomach squirmed as we went upstairs to our room. But the taste of the tart apples and sweet toppings still lingered on my tongue.
Worth it.
The bathroom we were to use was shared, but it was late enough that there was no line. When Emil returned from it, I was already tucked into my bunk, one elbow on my pillow propping up my head as he entered .
He tossed his bathroom things into his bag before walking to the light switch. “Ready?” he confirmed.
I flopped onto my back, pulling the covers up to my chin, though it was quite toasty inside. “Check,” I said seriously.
He snorted, but switched off the light, plunging us into utter darkness. Not a streetlight to be found, not even a sliver of moon through the single window.
I heard him cross the room, then a thunk and groan.
“You okay?” I asked, leaning up and over the edge of the bed. A rush of air slapped me in warning before my eyes had adjusted, and I reared back. From the sound of his voice, I knew we’d just avoided an in-line collision with our heads.
“Yeah,” he said, completely oblivious to the close call. “Hit my shin on the bed frame.”
“Sorry.” I winced in sympathy.
A rustle of clothes, then sheets, then the creak of the mattress sounded as he got in. I settled back with a deep sigh, already dreaming of the stunning views we’d seen throughout the day.
The bed beneath me squeaked as Emil moved once. Twice. A beat, then a third time.
“Everything okay down there?” I asked.
“Yeah.” The word was hesitant.
“What is it?”
“It’s fine.”
“Emil.”
“I think there’s a board missing beneath it or something. It’s sagging weird.”
“Should I go down and talk to Bert?”
“No, no, I just need to…” Sounds of him shifting, a scraping noise along the floor, then silence. “That’ll work.”
“What did you do?”
“Moved my pillow and pack into a sort of brace. ”
I pressed my lips together. I could do it. I could not meddle…
Nope.
I sat up, shoved the covers off, and swung my legs out. “I’m going to talk to Bert.”
A hand grabbed my ankle. “I swear, if you make me get out of this finally comfortable position to stop you, I’m gonna…” The warning hung waiting in the air.
It was cute he didn’t want to be a bother, but honestly, these beds were not the best, even when fully outfitted.
“You’re going to what?” I taunted him, softly swinging my feet.
He slid a light nail up the instep of my foot.
The sensation simultaneously tickled and sent a hot zing of commotion to other parts of my body. My breath caught as I felt things in places he hadn’t even touched.
But my ticklishness won out. I yelped, yanking my legs up and giggling involuntarily. “No fair!” The words shook as I gasped.
“It worked, didn’t it?” he said, his tone knowing. The bed groaned as I imagined him lying down with care.
“I don’t want you to be miserable all night.”
“I won’t be.”
“We could share?” I offered.
He barked a laugh. “How? With me taped to the wall next to you?”
I couldn’t argue his point, so I bit my lip.
“Don’t worry about it, Mal. If I was so uncomfortable, I’d go speak to Bert myself. Just get some sleep.”
“Okay,” I gave in unhappily. “Goodnight, Emil.”
I was already half asleep when he said it back.