Chapter 6
DANTE: Dammit, Hannah! That busker guy from downtown is on TV right now auditioning for that new singing show. And he’s wearing my favourite Armani suit.
I’M IN THE middle of packing for tomorrow’s trip. I’m wearing a huge grin as I stare at my phone screen. Dante’s still typing.
DANTE: Where do you get off giving all my shit to that bum?! You really crossed a line, Hannah.
Tossing my phone into the couch, I grab the remote and flick to the right channel. And yep, there he is. The street performer has already blown everyone away with his performance. All four chairs have spun around to face him as he sings John Lennon’s Imagine.
When he’s done, his fingers glide along the neck of his old guitar and he slowly opens his eyes.
The silence is deafening and he seems uneasy as his gaze drifts around the studio.
And then the room erupts in applause, the entire audience jumping up and down in excitement.
Every single judge is on their feet for a standing ovation.
His face breaks into a dazzling smile as he proudly pulls his shoulders back.
Judge Bruno wipes away a few tears, looking at him with sheer admiration.
Finally, the applause makes way for quiet suspense.
Wow, dude, that was incredible, says Bruno, still completely blown away. What’s your name and where are you from?
Thank you, the man replies with flushed cheeks. My name is Ed and I’m from Utrecht.
That was honestly so awesome. Your voice, your image . . . It’s all on point. Where have you been this whole time? Why have you never auditioned before?
Ed seems overwhelmed by the compliment as he fidgets with the satin tie I bought Dante for Christmas.
I was too chicken, he finally replies.
I’m so glad you got over that feeling, Judge Stacey jumps in. That was finale material—and you know I’m never quick to admit that. She shakes her head. And you look fantastic, Ed. That suit is gorgeous.
Ed’s big brown eyes go glossy as he takes in all those compliments. When a tear rolls down his cheek, he quickly wipes it away. Thank you, he says with a shy, soft voice.
Don’t be so modest, my guy! shouts the final judge. You nailed it! There are no words! I really hope you’ll pick me. It might give me a chance to win for once.
A warm feeling floods my chest as I witness a battle over Ed unfold between the judges. He more than deserves every bit of this.
The following morning, I’m in a rush to catch the train.
Of course I over-snooze-buttoned yet again, so now I’m biking through the city in a frenzy.
My suitcase is strapped to the little cargo rack, violently rattling around as I zip over bumps and potholes.
This is the only reason I’m in better physical condition than a dead horse.
I almost always stay in bed too late, so I make up the difference by biking so hard that my months-old tires are already showing signs of wear.
Watch yourself, idiot! shouts someone on a moped when I barrel past them a little too closely.
Sorry! I yell over my shoulder.
I park my bike in the rack below Utrecht Central station and run for the train.
Val lives in Amsterdam and I bet he’s just taking a cab.
Panting and huffing, I snag a seat in the train’s quiet zone.
There’s a young couple in the seats across from me.
The girl has her head leaned on her boyfriend’s shoulder as she blows gum bubbles, only to pop them and start over again.
The guy is absent-mindedly stroking the inner part of her thigh as he gazes off in the distance in pure bliss.
I put on my headphones to block out the girl’s chewing, then stare through the window at the farms and buildings zipping by.
The next time I look at the couple, they’re in the middle of a gum swap. The girl blows a bubble, then the guy bites into it, making her giggle before blowing another one. Ultimately, the gum ends up in the guy’s mouth, at which point he starts blowing bubbles for her to burst.
Barf.
I get how hard it is to keep your hands off of each other when you’re in love, but this is pretty next level. His hand is basically up her skirt.
As we roll into Schiphol airport, I breathe a sigh of relief. And once I overhear the whispered details of what the guy plans to do to his partner later, I can barely get off the train fast enough.
Val is already waiting for me at our designated meeting point inside the terminal. He’s holding two cups of coffee as his eyes impatiently dart around the space.
Finally, he says when he spots me. He pushes one of the coffees into my hands.
Stunned, I look down at my steaming hot to-go cup. Val has never once brought me a drink before. Usually that’s my job.
Oh, um . . . Thank you, I say, before taking a sip and pulling a face. There’s no milk or sugar in this.
He frowns. No good?
Oh, it’s fine. Just a little stronger than I’m used to, I’m quick to reply.
We rush to the check-in desk where Val lifts my suitcase onto the scales first.
Jesus, did you hack your ex into pieces so you could dump the body parts in England? This thing is heavy as hell, he groans, before running a hand through his hair.
We’re silent for a beat and I get a shocked look from the airline staffer who’s checking us in.
He’s totally kidding, I jump to clarify with an awkward chuckle as soon as I catch the look of suspicion in her eyes.
She’s not buying it. Wait, let me show you!
Without thinking, I zip open my suitcase to expose a jumbled pile of thongs and lacy bras—but no severed limbs.
I feel my cheeks heat while Val watches with interest.
Hmmm, the staffer responds. I close up my suitcase again as she shifts her attention to my passport. Hannah De Haas?
That’s right, I reply.
She coughs awkwardly, then shifts her attention to Val. Her eyes travel up and down his body and she bats her lashes seductively when he hands her his passport.
Valentijn Wouters? she asks with a wide grin.
Coffee sprays from my nose as I burst into laughter. Valentijn? She’s got to be kidding, right? I can’t imagine a less suitable name for him. Come on—Valentine?!
He shoots me an irritated glare.
That’s right, he replies. Are you okay, Hannah? There’s coffee all over your shirt.
Oh, absolutely. This is the highlight of my day. I’m grinning so wide that my cheeks start to cramp up.
What an appropriate name, the airline worker says with a wink as she attaches a luggage tag to Val’s suitcase.
She gives both pieces of luggage a shove and we watch them roll onto the conveyor belt.
Most people only have a Valentine on Valentine’s Day.
You get to have one all year round, she continues undeterred, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.
Another laugh shoots out of me. Oh, we’re definitely not a couple, I tell her.
Intrigue appears on her face as her eyes shoot from Val to me and back. He’s clearly getting more annoyed by the second.
Oh really? she says with a twinkle in her eye, shifting her gaze back to Val. Just so you know, I don’t have a Valentine lined up for this year yet . . .
I wonder why that is, I hear him mumble.
I squeeze my eyes shut, hoping the woman will realize she’s messing with the timer on a ticking bomb.
I’d be happy to give you my number, if you’d like . . . she adds, gazing at him expectantly.
Another silence.
I think you’re being extremely unprofessional, Val finally says in a voice I recognize all too well. He’s all done with Bambi over here. Turning on his heels, he strides off toward the security check.
The airline staffer looks startled as her big brown eyes watch him go. I’m deeply sorry, she says. He’s right, I crossed a line.
Don’t worry about it. I give her a reassuring smile. You’re not the first and you definitely won’t be the last person to draw that kind of reaction from him. Have a good day.
I leave the sulking woman behind to follow Val through security and get ourselves some seats by the gate. His impatience grows by the second as he watches the continuous flow of airplanes taking off and landing. His jaw is clenched tight as his right foot taps out a hectic rhythm on the floor.
Are you alright? I ask, studying him closely.
Fine, he snaps.
The silence between us fills with the sound of whining children and rattling suitcase wheels.
So, Valentijn, huh? I finally say through a wide grin. This is going to be the best two weeks ever.
He pinches his eyes shut for a second, then looks me straight in the eye. Let’s agree that you only ever call me Val. My full name turned high school into a living nightmare, so I’m really not in the mood to hear it non-stop for the entire trip.
I blink, slightly stunned. If you’d told me a month ago that Val had gone through a rough time in high school, I would have thought you were high on something a lot stronger than icing sugar from some oliebollen. How do you look like that and still get bullied?
I’m sorry, I reply, staring at my hands as I let the feeling of guilt sink in. So. Val? I ask, breaking our silence. I’m secretly a little bummed that I can’t take advantage of this priceless discovery. But only a little. Do you want anything to drink?
He contemplates the question for a moment, then nods. Could you grab a small bottle of whisky for the plane? he replies, rubbing his eyes.
Whisky? It’s not even noon.
When he shoots me an angry glare, I stick up my hands in surrender.
Okay, okay, I’m going, I quickly reply.
Yikes. My first time on a plane with Val and he’s already a barrel of laughs.
As soon as we’ve boarded and Val is buckled into his seat by the window, he twists open the whisky bottle and takes a swig.
He looks as pale as Dante’s backside, which has never seen the light of day.
When the plane picks up speed on the runway, he grips the armrests so tightly that his fingertips go white.
He keeps his eyes shut until we’ve been in the air for about twenty minutes and the signature seatbelt ping has chimed, letting us know it’s okay to unfasten our seatbelts.
Val leaves his on, though. I’m slightly puzzled as I take in the evidence.
Hey, Val?
Hm.
Are you afraid of flying?
His pupils are completely dilated and there’s sweat beading on his forehead, a few tufts of hair stuck to his temples.
Gee, what tipped you off? he wonders.
I mean, your eyes have been shifting around like you’re expecting truckloads of snakes to slither out of the vents at any moment.
Val swallows, then draws a deep breath.
Why did you insist on flying, then? We could just as easily have taken a boat.
Because you got so sick on that fucking ferry last time, okay? he snaps, clearly irritated.
That’s not at all the answer I was expecting. I hit the breaks a little. You’re subjecting yourself to sheer terror because of me? I whisper.
He frowns. Well, when you put it like that, it sounds a lot more noble tha—
The plane jolts and he grabs my hand. An unusual feeling spreads through my body as I stare at our linked fingers.
The FASTEN SEAT BELT sign lights up again and a flight attendant comes on the PA to explain that we’re experiencing some turbulence.
When the shaking stops, Val drops my hand and stares out of the window in embarrassment.
Sorry, he mumbles.
Don’t worry about it, I reply, patting his arm in what’s hopefully a comforting gesture. I reach down to grab a book from my purse and begin to read.
By the time the wheels touch down on the landing strip, the bottle of whisky I picked up for Val is a lot emptier, and Val is a lot more relaxed. People start to get up to grab their carry-on luggage.
I probably should have had a more elaborate breakfast before starting on that whisky, Val realizes as he gets up from his seat.
I pluck our backpacks from the overhead bins and give him a concerned look. Are you okay?
Fine, just a bit tired. He takes his backpack, stepping out into the aisle ahead of me.
The flight attendants wish us a pleasant stay in London, ogling Val as he walks by. One of them elbows the other and nods at his behind. Check out that ass. And those eyes? Talk about baby daddy material, she whispers, as her colleague lets out a delighted sigh.
Seriously. Nothing like that sack of potatoes on my couch at home.
I follow Val past the flight attendants. Have a good day. I flash a polite smile at these women who are mentally undressing Val as we speak.
The one who was commenting on Val’s ass blushes a bright red when she realizes I must have overheard her comment.
I’m sorry, I meant no disrespect, she stutters. I really just meant to say that you have excellent taste.
Thank you, I reply with a reassuring smile. That’s not my boyfriend, though.
The blonde attendant perks up a little, shifting her hungry gaze toward the exit, as if Willy Wonka’s universe of delights lies just beyond that door.
An oddly protective feeling swells in my chest when I notice her hungry stare. If I’m being honest, I’m actually not even sure he’s into wom—
Hannah! Val sticks his head back in around the doorframe. Are you coming? I want to get to my suitcase ASAP. I need my dress shoes for the meeting this afternoon and I really want to freshen up at the hotel first.
A knowing expression appears on the blonde flight attendant’s face, as if Val’s monologue just confirmed my made-up doubts.
And then I follow him off of the plane, jogging my way down the jetway toward the airport terminal.