“Please don’t go yet,” he says to me, reaching across the table and touching my arm. He stares at me imploringly and it takes everything to not get lost in those grey-blues, looking extra rich in the dark bar.
I’m brought back in my mind to our first fight. It was over something stupid, I barely remember. Maybe he looked at a girl a little too long and I got jealous. He called me paranoid. I called him a liar. We had it out on my front steps and it ended with him groveling at my feet, asking me to stay with him.
The funny thing was, that should have been my first warning sign. He most likely was looking at a girl a little too long and if I knew any better, he was probably sleeping with her too.
But hindsight is twenty-twenty.
I swallow and manage a smile. “I better go check in.”
“I’ll walk you then,” he says to me, sliding out of the booth. “Just let me pay at the bar.”
I contemplate just walking out anyway, my memories have brought forth this horrible sense of shame and embarrassment, when Astrid and Lise walk back in the bar, 7-11 bags in their hands.
“We got you some Norwegian candy,” Astrid says gleefully, shaking a chocolate bar at me. Then she notices Anders paying at the bar. “Is he paying? That jerk.”
“Jeez, I’d let him if I were you,” Lise says. “Who knows when he’ll be this generous again.”
But even after everything I just thought, I can’t help but bothered by that remark. It was my understanding that Anders worked the fishing job in order to keep the farm going. It sounded like Anders was far more generous than he ever had to be.
“Here,” Astrid says, placing the bag in my hands. “There’s Lakerol and Melkesjokolade and what you call gummies. Enough to keep your sweet tooth happy.” She then looks me up and down. “Were you leaving?”
I nod, giving her a quick smile. “I thought I better go check in at the hotel. It’s somewhere near here.”
I still take the bag of candy though. I’m not passing that up.
“Are you sure?” she asks. “We were hoping Anders could convince you to come to Todalen with us.” She exchanges a glance with Lise. “I know we don’t really know each other, but Lise and I are there for a few more days and it would be nice to have someone else to talk to other than Uncle Per and our brother. Roar is staying here in the city. And the girls in the village are boring.”
“Even if Anders doesn’t think so,” Lise adds with a smirk.
That comment digs deeper than it should. Astrid gives Lise a warning look.
“I was going to walk Shay to her hotel,” Anders says as he comes back. He picks up his jacket and shrugs it on and I do everything not to stare at his shoulders.
“You sure we can’t convince you?” Lise asks me.
I have to admit, it feels really good to be wanted, even by people you barely know. Really good. But I’ve made up my mind.
“Thank you, but I’m just going to stick to my original plan.”
Astrid looks crestfallen. “Ah, well I hope you have a good time in Norway, regardless. It was really nice meeting you.”
She pulls me into a quick hug and Lise does the same.
Anders grabs the keys from Astrid and then gives me a nod. “Ready to go?”
“You know I can find the place on my own, I have my phone,” I tell him as I wave once more at his sisters and head out the door. The rain is falling again, a cold wind whipping up.
“You’re in a city you’ve never been to and it’s one I know everything about,” he says. “I’m walking you to your hotel. It’s the absolute, very least, I can do.”
He’s right about that. We head up the small hill to get my backpack from the trunk of the car. I tell him the hotel name and head back to where the bar was, heading to the left on the cobblestoned road. It’s light out still, even though it feels like it should be dark, and despite the rain, more and more people bike past us.
“Everyone here must be super healthy,” I remark, as a girl with long, wet blonde hair bikes past, looking totally fresh-faced.
“We need to work off all the beer,” Anders says, grabbing hold of his belly, even though he probably doesn’t have anything other than lean muscle on him.
I wonder how much his body has changed. If there are more tattoos. If my hands were to touch him again, would they recognize his skin?
Stay focused, I tell myself. Almost there.
“You know the offer is on the table,” he says to me. “If you change your mind. At any time.”