“Sure. That’d be fine.”
She waved at her friends, and then I was surrounded by significantly more estrogen. She slid onto the seat closest to me, and I caught a whiff of sweet perfume.
“I’m Sarah. This is Johana and that’s Christine.”
Sarah reminded me a bit a doll—small, almost porcelain-like.
“I’m Hunt. It’s nice to meet you all.”
Sarah raised an eyebrow at my name, but didn’t comment. I was used to that. And yeah, it would probably be less hassle to go by my first name, but Jackson felt like a different version of me, a version that I needed to maintain distance from if I were going to survive this job. Hunt was the version of me that had gotten his life together, and that’s who I needed to be.
“Where are you from, Hunt?”
“Texas. Mostly. What about you?”
“New York.”
“All of you?”
It was Johana who answered this time, the slight curl of an accent at the ends of her words. “Well, we all go to NYU. I’m originally from Paraguay.”
The third girl, Christine, shrugged. “Kansas.”
Sarah chimed in. “We’re all studying abroad in the Netherlands. We’re just visiting for the weekend. What about you? Studying abroad?”
I laughed and scratched the back of my neck. “No. I’m, uh, just traveling.”
I’d never gone to college at all, let alone in another country, a fact that my father was quite fond of bringing up.
“That’s cool,” Sarah said. “So what have you done in Bucharest so far? Anything you recommend?”
I racked my brain for locations from the guidebook. “Uh, you know. The usual. A few museums, a church or two, Victory Avenue. There’s the Dracula castle, too. But that’s outside the city.”
That wasn’t too bad. Better than telling her what I was actually doing here in Bucharest. She directed her eyes toward the table, tapping glossy fingernails against the surface.
“And what are you doing tomorrow?”
I glanced back toward Kelsey’s booth out of habit, only to find it empty.
I stood, pushing my chair back from the table. A quick scan of the area didn’t give me any glimpse of Kelsey, and she was kind of hard to miss.
“Excuse me, I have to—”
I didn’t bother finishing my sentence before I walked off in the direction of the bar. I circled it once, catching Sarah’s eye by accident. I’m sure I looked psychotic, but there wasn’t time to think about that. When I didn’t see Kelsey after another lap, I pulled the phone out of my pocket.
She was on the move.
I shot one more glance at Sarah. The band was playing a softer tune behind her. She was pretty. I could have used a night to let go of all of this mess and just talk to someone normal. To be someone normal.
Tonight was apparently not that night. I waved in an apology, and then made for the exit.
I followed the GPS back to our hostel, glad that I wasn’t having to chase her to another bar. If she was calling it an early night, fine by me. I’d been averaging about three hours of sleep a night between her partying and my nightmares. I could use the extra rest.
The hostel was split up dorm-style. I’d chosen one of the male-only rooms, which had about ten beds packed into too-close quarters. One guy was already out for the night, but the rest of the room was empty. I grabbed my shower stuff, eager to follow his lead.
I slipped on a pair of rubber flip-flops, and hoped that by retiring early, I’d get a decent amount of hot water. This hostel had several floors, with a shower on each. Kelsey was in a room on the first floor, and I was on the second, so I let my guard down.
Yet another mistake.
I hung my clothes on the hook outside the shower stall, then pulled the curtain closed. I turned on the faucet, cramming myself into the far corner of the stall to avoid the flash of cold water that came out first.
When it got to be lukewarm, I decided that was probably as best as I was going to get for the night. I stood beneath the spray, letting it dribble down over my face, and congratulated myself on making it through another day.
That’s what I was back to. Counting the hours of sobriety just like I had those first few months. It helped me focus, but seemed to make time move slower. Three more days.
I’d built up the one-year mark in my head as if things would magically get easier once I passed that point. I knew they wouldn’t. But I let myself pretend for now.
Quickly, I finished washing up. Then I grabbed the towel I’d slung over the wall of the stall, pulled it tight around my hips before sliding open the curtain.
A soft, lilting laugh traveled down the hallway, announcing company. I picked up my things to exit at the same time that a girl stumbled through the door, laughing. She gripped the doorframe with one hand, but her upper body tipped toward the floor.
“Hey, easy there.”
I reached out to steady her, and realized who she was before my hand even touched the familiar curve of her shoulder.
“I’m okay. I’m good.” She was still laughing, but even holding on to the doorframe, she couldn’t seem to stand up straight. She tossed her hair back, and I directed my gaze away, like that would keep her from seeing me. That’s when I caught sight of the guy behind her, the same one she’d been hanging around with at the club.
“I’ve got her, mate.”
Australian. He was a traveler, too.
He gripped her waist, and she fell back into his body, her eyes closed. God, how drunk was she? I was torn between being worried for her and relieved for me. I don’t think she’d even noticed me, which meant she was unlikely to remember me in the morning.