Erasing Faith(21)

GRISLY FLOWER PETALS



My hand twined with his and I was startled by how much I liked the feeling of his calloused palm pressed warm against mine. I glanced apologetically at match number eight, muttered a quiet “sorry” under my breath, and allowed Wes to pull me to my feet.

“Excuse me!” Linda’s voice boomed through the megaphone. “Sir! Miss! There will be time to mingle at the conclusion of all the sessions. Where are you going?”

“Oh, shit!” I cursed, looking up at Wes. “We’re so busted.”

He deliberated for a moment. “Well, there’s only one thing to do…”

I stared at him for a suspended instant, wondering if he was going to make me sit back down and suffer through another string of potential suitors. To my relief, his hand didn’t release mine — it only tightened and tugged, as he took off running at a breakneck pace that had me tripping over my own feet.

“Run!” he explained needlessly.

I giggled, breathless and reeling, as we sprinted off the bank toward the path. Linda was chastising us with a fresh round of admonishments via the bullhorn, but there was no stopping us.

“Call you later, Margot!” I shouted over my shoulder to my roommate, locking eyes with her for a brief moment. Her eyebrows had drifted high on her forehead and she looked slightly concerned by the fact that I was making a break for it with a man she’d never before laid eyes on, but her mouth was half-lifted in a grin, so I knew she wasn’t too distraught that I’d abandoned speed-dating night.

“Be safe, you crazy bitch!” she yelled after me, which only made me laugh harder.

We ran like fugitives. Like Bonnie and Clyde, bolting from a big heist with the law on our heels.

There was no one chasing us, but that wasn’t the point. There was something exhilarating about holding hands with Wes Adams, running through City Park like lunatics, laughing so hard it was impossible to catch a good breath.

***

“Are you sure you want to do this?” I asked, swallowing roughly.

“It was my idea.”

“Well, I’m just not sure I’m ready…”

“You’re ready.”

“I’m…um…”

“Don’t tell me you’re backing out now.” His voice was teasingly exasperated.

“It’s just so….high,” I whispered, tilting my head back to take in the sight of the towering Chain Bridge, sprawled out before us in all its glory. When my gaze swung down to the brown-blue waters of the Danube flowing below, I gulped nervously. I knew that, as far as bridges went, this one wasn’t exceedingly tall. But that knowledge did little to calm my stomach, which was flipping queasily at even the thought of the fifteen-minute walk across to the Buda side of the city.

“It’s not that high,” Wes argued. “Even if you fell off — which you won’t — you’d probably walk away with nothing but a few bruises and a mouthful of river water.”

I winced at the mental image of my body toppling over the railing.

“You haven’t truly experienced Budapest until you’ve walked the Chain Bridge,” Wes pointed out.

I nodded — I knew he was right. The famous suspension bridge had been a Hungarian landmark since its construction in 1849. Its distinctive square towers and the imposing, carved-stone lion statues that guarded either side made it one of the most beautiful sights in the entire city. Scores of tourists were walking it at this very moment, snapping pictures and laughing without a care as I deliberated on a sidewalk.

Thus far, most of my exploring had been limited to the Pest side of the city for this very reason — I couldn’t work up the courage to walk across a damn bridge. The university, my apartment, and the Hermes offices were all in Pest and, after a bit of begging during my first shift, Konrad had agreed to give me delivery routes on that side only. So, I didn’t necessarily have to go to Buda. But if I didn't conquer this fear, I’d be missing out on half of the place I’d come to immerse myself in.

Budapest was a city of split-personalities. Pest was a buzzing, bourgeois hub of restaurants, bars, clubs, and cafes; Buda was the richly historic home to the Royal Palace, Parliament, Castle Hill, and the Fisherman’s Bastion. Two distinct cities, one old and one new, divided by the Danube.

As a history student, I really needed to explore the old side — and, if I wanted to avoid paying for a ferry or a taxi every time, it was paramount that I get my ass walking across the damn bridges. Pronto.

Unfortunately, as with most things, this was much easier said than done.

“I’m afraid of heights,” I squeaked out.

“You don’t say.” Wes’ voice was amused.

“You know, if you were a nice guy, you’d let me take the ferry. You wouldn’t make me do this.”

He was silent for a long moment — so long I thought he might not respond at all — but, finally, he broke the quiet with one, tiny word that, for no logical reason at all, sent chills down my spine.

“Hey.”

The softness of his tone — something I’d never heard from him before — immediately caught my attention. I turned my worried gaze away from the bridge in order to meet his eyes, which were empty of their usual teasing light and, instead, full of sincerity. His hand lifted carefully to touch my face, like a cautious hunter might approach a wounded wild animal — slow and steady movements, giving me ample time to bolt if I didn’t want the contact. To flinch back or flee if crossing this line from simple strangers to something more wasn’t what I wanted.