As soon as the taxi pulled up next to our tour bus, Yael paid the driver, then jumped out and marched up the stairs of the bus quicker than I could catch her.
“Santiago Garza, you suck,” she announced.
I tugged her ponytail. “Shush. You don’t need to do this.”
A bemused Santi lounged on one of the couches at the front of the bus, a paperback book open in his hand.
“What’s up?”
Yael wagged her finger at him. “You, that’s what. You suck.”
“How many pot brownies did you eat?” Murray asked without taking his eyes off the video game he and Mo were playing.
Yael rounded on him. “Don’t even start with me, Alex. You suck the most.”
There was a story there, one Yael would never tell me. Maybe if I filled her with enough pot brownies... A residual giggle bubbled up from my chest.
“She had three-quarters of one,” I said.
Yael whipped around, hands on her hips. “Narc.”
“Pothead,” I countered.
“Hey pot, meet kettle.”
“You’re so punny.”
She fell against me, laughing. “Oh god, that was some good shit.”
“What happened to the other quarter of the brownie?” Santiago asked.
I tapped my lips. “Yael made me.”
He let out a low chuckle. “First time, right?”
“Yeah, and I don’t know if I’m high or just havin’ a good time.”
His smiled crinkled the corners of his eyes. Broad, unfiltered smiles like that from Santi were a rare commodity. I wanted to punch him for looking so enticing. “Probably some of both.”
Yael snagged a bag of Doritos and took off to the back of the bus to watchBridesmaids. I’d planned on joining her, but ended up flopping down on the couch by Santiago with a bottle of water and a bowl of grapes instead. It seemed we’d come to somewhat of a truce. He didn’t seem to resent my presence so much anymore, and I didn’t hate him for how cruel he’d been to me.
He stole a grape and popped it in his mouth. “Are you going to be ready for tonight, or do you need to go take a nap?”
I rolled a grape over my bottom lip. “I ate a quarter of a pot brownie. I’m thinkin’ I’ll be all right.”
“Did you and Yael get to see much of Amsterdam?”
“Mostly the Red Light District. She told me I’m not allowed to wave at the prostitutes because I might get their hopes up.” I shrugged. “Someone waves at me, I’m wavin’ back.”
He laughed and stole another grape. “Shame you missed the rest of Amsterdam. Next time we’re back, I’ll take you on a tour.”
“You’re an expert on this city?”
“Not at all. But I’ve been here a couple times now, walked the city center, found a couple cool places.”
I tilted my head, considering his offer. “If there’s a next time, you’re on.”
“There will be a next time.”