“Think you can make it?”
He shakes his head as though to clear it, then leads us forward. “Only one way to find out.”
The first beer for Ben goes down rough. I feel for the guy. When you’re hungover drinking water can suck, but alcohol? That’s a fool’s errand. But he muscles through it and by the time we hit the second tent he’s feeling… not exactly no pain, but significantly less pain.
After two tents of all beer, we go in search of food. I quickly find out that the rumors of the Germans being magicians with bread is one hundred percent true. I’m going to gain fifty pounds living in this country for the next three months, because my new diet plan is to carbo load until I burst. Brot is my new best friend.
“I have to pee,” I tell Mel and Ben as we leave the food stalls and go in search of our next beer.
Mel grabs my hand and looks at me with wide-eyed seriousness. “What if the toilets are flooding?” She bursts into giggles and pulls me into a random hug.
“Yeah, what if,” I mutter, rethinking whether or not I can get sick of hearing that. “Do you need to pee too? Are you good?”
She pulls back and gives me two thumbs up. “I’m perfect.”
“Good.” I look at Ben, hoping he’ll be my ally here. Mel is a lightweight and she’s been drinking all day. She’s like a toddler at this point. “You’ll stick with her. That’s not a question.”
He nods hard and I wish his sunglasses were off so I could tell how glassy his eyes are. “You got it, boss.” He grabs Mel around the waist and pulls her hard up against his body.
She squeals in delight and wraps her arms around his neck, nuzzling into his chest.
“I’ll stick to her like glue.”
“Awesome. I can’t see any of this going wrong. I’ll be right back.”
If this were a horror movie, I’d be dead in five minutes just as punishment for saying something so stupid. As it turns out, an hour later I’m still alive but I wish I wasn’t. I’d rather be dead than standing in the longest line I’ve ever seen waiting to enter a filthy, overused public bathroom at a drinking festival with a full, screaming bladder. I’m literally bouncing from foot to foot by the time I get inside.
I will not speak of the horrors that befall me in that little room. Not now, not ever.
When I get out, I’m not surprised that I can’t find Mel and Ben right away. I was gone a long time and they’re drunk, impatient, and impulsive. I keep my eyes peeled for them as I make my way from the last place I saw them to the next beer tent we were planning on visiting. It’s one of the smaller ones, a little quieter and more subdued. I’m getting a little wiggy from the crowds and noise, so taking a small breather was my brilliant idea. But when I get there of course I can’t find them.
“Shit,” I mutter, glancing around fruitlessly for the fourth time.
“Miss,” an Italian accent calls to my right. I look over to find a guy about ten years older than I am with dark hair and warm eyes. He’s handsome in a very European kind of way. His clothes are tailored, his hair full of product and coifed, and I can smell his cologne from here, even in a tent full of people. It’s not bad—just a lot.
“You are lost?” he asks me.
I grin politely, shaking my head. “No, I’m fine. Thank you. Just looking for my friends.”
“Ah, you have lost your friends.”
“Seems so, yeah.”
“I help you look for them,” he offers, moving to stand from the table where he sits with four other men in similar clothing who can only be his friends—or brothers, for how much they all look alike. They’re like a gang. A really suave, handsome gang.
I take a step away from them. “No, that’s—no. Thanks, but no. I’m fine.”
“No, no, no, no. I help you. Or you sit, you join us. You wait,” he says, gesturing to his now vacant seat. Four pairs of warm eyes and brilliant white smiles look up at me expectantly.
What big teeth you have.
One of the men offers a cup to me, open and brimming with frothing beer.
I take a step back. “No. I’d rather not. I’m fine.”
“Is too dangerous you be alone. You sit, you join us. We help you.” He takes two steps toward me as he speaks, crowding my space.
I know Europeans have a much smaller personal bubble than Americans. I understand that his proximity to me is not necessarily threatening, not to him. Not intentionally. But for me, it’s too close.
My eyes begin to swing around the room, searching for my quick solution out of this awkward moment. Luckily, I’m already saved. I just don’t know it yet.
Chapter Two