Erasing Faith(26)

“At least mosquitoes still find me attractive,” she muttered darkly, scratching at several puffy red bumps on her arms.

I snorted.

“I’m serious!” she groused. “As soon as the sun went down, the little blood-suckers were out in force. You’re lucky you made your escape before then…” Her eyes narrowed. “Which brings us back to you. Time to spill about your secret rendezvous, Faith.”

A deep sigh escaped my lips. “It wasn’t a secret rendezvous.”

“What was it, then?”

“Fate,” I murmured.

Now Margot was the one snorting.

I ignored her. “His name is Wes. And, honestly, I know practically nothing about him.”

“So, you ran off with a total stranger because…” she stared at me like I’d grown an extra head.

“There’s just something about him. I don’t know how to explain it. It’s…” I drifted off, trying to find the words but coming up empty. “We have a connection. It’s like… like nothing I’ve ever felt before. He just gets me.”

“A total stranger gets you?” Margot’s tone was incredulous. “As in, he gets the money from your wallet when you’re not paying attention? Or he gets into your pants after slipping a roofie into your drink?”

I shook my head absently, thinking back to the bridge. Despite my roommate’s words, I couldn’t dismiss the connection I felt to Wes. Memories from the night filtered through my mind.

Dark eyes. Soft-spoken promises.

Panic, fear. Comfort, compassion.

Wrapped up in a stranger, as the moon rose over the Danube, my bloodstream had thrummed with adrenaline. My body was wracked with so many emotions I’d never be able to sort them all out.

I’d never felt so alive.

I cleared my throat lightly and tried to articulate my thoughts once more. “Wes Adams looks at me like he knows me better than anyone I’ve ever met in my life. So, yeah, maybe it’s weird that I don’t know his middle name or where he works or why he’s in Budapest, or what his freaking phone number is.” I swallowed roughly. “None of that changes the fact that when he looks at me, he sees me. The real me.”

There was a brief pause as Margot contemplated my words.

“You’re nuts,” she declared decidedly.

“Quite possibly,” I agreed.

“So, what did you do with this stranger who gets you?”

“Faced fears. Counted to five.”

“English, please.”

I smiled a secret smile. “We walked the Chain Bridge.”

“But you’re afraid of heights,” she pointed out.

“Exactly.”

“Do you have to be so cryptic?” she complained. “I want details, woman.”

“I’m not being cryptic.” I was totally being cryptic. “There just isn’t much to tell. We walked the bridge, then he walked me home. End of story.”

That wasn’t exactly the truth. Sure, we’d walked the bridge and, yes, afterwards he’d walked me home. But something monumental had happened between us in the dark, suspended over the river in an embrace. We’d barely spoken, yet I’d felt Wes’ impression on my soul like a brand since he walked away from my door stoop a half hour ago.

But how did you put that into words for another person? How did you explain that to your roommate, as though it was nothing more than regular, post-date gossip and girl talk?

I couldn’t trivialize it.

Wouldn’t debase or dissect it for someone who’d never understand.

“Well, are you going to see him again?” Margot’s question interrupted my musings.

“I don’t know,” I murmured. “I hope so. But I guess it’s up to fate.”

She sighed, reached for her tea, and took a large sip. “What the hell does that mean? Don’t normal people just trade phone numbers, text awkwardly for a few days, then get together and have hot sex? I’m pretty sure there’s a rule about that inscribed in our generation’s book of dating norms.”

I couldn’t stop myself from grinning. “Nothing normal about this, Margot.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m cranky, I haven’t gotten laid in weeks, I’m covered in mosquito bites, and I’m far too sober for conversations where you speak in 90% riddles.” She reached out and picked up her book. “So, if you don’t mind…” She glanced pointedly from the open pages to my bedroom door.

“Oh, fine, you crotchety bitch.” I laughed and blew her a kiss as I rose to my feet. “I’m going, I’m going.”

“Love you,” she called after me.

“Yeah, yeah. Love you too.”

***

“Please sign here, sir.”

With my bike balanced between my legs and one hand holding the handlebars steady, I waited for the man to sign the electronic invoice on my company-issued iPhone screen. He scribbled something indecipherable with his fingertip, chuckled under his breath at the sight of his messy “signature,” and passed the phone back to me.

“K?sz?n?m,” the man muttered, accepting his parcel with impatient hands.

“You’re welcome!” I called, stowing the phone in a side pocket of my messenger bag. He slammed the door in my face and disappeared inside without another word.