He offers me a cocky grin, but I fold my arms over my chest, holding my own. Yes, sir, I can negotiate.
“Sure, let’s go into town first.”
We take the car into town, and I press my nose to the window as I try to soak it all in.
“This looks like one of those towns you see in British crime shows. Quaint, quirky.”
“Well, it’s somewhat bigger. Population—“
“One hundred thousand. I know. I looked it up.”
“What do you want to see?”
“The cathedral. And I want to buy some gloves. Heard the city was famous for its glove industry once.”
“You definitely do your research.”
I smile, excited as he pulls the car into an empty spot. I can see the cathedral from here.
The Worcester cathedral was built in a typical Anglican style, and it’s majestic. Next, I buy my gloves, and then I insist on a stop by the statue of the composer Edward Elgar.
“Man, they got his moustache right,” I say, asking Parker to take a picture of me
as I stand next to the statue. Then he surprises me by stepping by my side and taking a selfie of both of us.
Next stop: Friar Street. We walk leisurely on the cobblestones. A-frame houses with dark rooftops, white, timber-framed facades are intermingled with red brick buildings. From my vantage point, some of the buildings appear crooked.
“What?” Parker asks.
“This looks a bit like Diagon Alley, don’t you think?”
Parker grins. “I thought Serena was the nerd.”
“Ouch. Knowing stuff about Harry Potter doesn’t make me a nerd. It’s pop culture by now. Hmmm, I think I’m done now. I just want to buy a bottle of Worcestershire sauce.”
“Why? You can buy it in every store.”
“Yes, but then I can say I have one from its hometown. I’m weird, I know.”
“You’re not weird. You’re just...you. Let’s go get your sauce.”
Half an hour later, we’re back in the car, and Parker drives us toward the nearby forest where we will hike.
He’s well prepared, with a backpack in the trunk. I’m not much of a hiker, but this area is beautiful, and not crowded. We walk up on a hill.
"Can we rest for a few minutes?" I ask halfway through, almost out of breath, even though it’s not steep. I’m just out of practice.
Parker chuckles. "It'll get harder if we stop altogether."
“Okay, come on, Jess. You can do this.”
When we finally finish climbing and reach the top, the view takes my breath. We’ve reached a waterfall. Water runs over big boulders, but there is also greenery in between.
"You should go to the gym or something," Parker says.
"I work out," I protest. "I run from the couch to the fridge at least fifteen times every evening."
Parker bursts out laughing, shaking his head. "I think that's the definition of a couch potato."