“That comparison’s . . . disturbing.”
“You know what I mean. I was a horny idiot. I saw your boobs when you jumped into the pond and I wanted to see if they were . . . real.”
“Real?”
“Sure, that makes me sound less creepy.”
“No, the whole thing is creepy. Not only were you my first kiss, but you were my first boob grab as well. I feel like, looking back, I could have done better.”
“Hey.” He laughs.
“At least I lost my virginity to an upstanding citizen. Lasted all of three seconds. I’ve chosen some real winners.”
“Three seconds?” He cringes. “When I lost mine, I lasted at least ten.” He smirks and I laugh.
“Wow, giving me a taste of humility. Why, Crew Smith, have you grown up?”
“Some might say I have.” He tips my chin up. “God, I really have missed you.”
“Damn right you did, so don’t forget it. Your life will always be best with a little bit of Hazel in it.”
“It will be.” He pauses for a second, then asks, “So who did you lose your virginity to?”
“You don’t know him. A guy in town. I was nineteen. Thought it was a good idea at the time. It wasn’t. Boring and I barely had fun. It was almost like something to check off on my life list.” I make a check motion with my hand. “Virginity, gone.”
“Please tell me you’ve had more fun since.”
“A little here and there. Nothing mind-blowing.” Shyly I glance over at him. “Pearl rock your world?”
“I mean, it was good at the time.”
“Good at the time.” I can’t stop the smile from crossing my cheeks. “That’s a nice way of putting it.”
“That’s what I am . . . the nice guy.”
“Probably why you don’t get that much ass in college.”
He laughs. “Yeah, that and my stats.”
* * *
“Crew?”
“Yeah?” Crew asks from his reclined position.
We spent the last hour and a half watching Love, Simon together, on separate screens, but we still pressed play at the same time, and then we got ready for bed. The airline provided us with a nifty bedtime kit, as well as pillows and blankets. We both brushed our teeth and then laid down our seats. The pods aren’t a five-star hotel, but they’re much better than sitting up straight and trying to get some sleep.
“Are you nervous about the trip?”
He lifts himself up and rests his arms on the console between us while looking down at me. His eyes have a heavy, sleepy look to them, and he must have run his hand through his hair a few times while getting comfortable, because it’s messy but adorable.
“Yeah, I am.”
“Me too.”
“Why are you nervous?” He lowers his hand and swipes a piece of hair off my forehead.
“I miss him,” I say, my voice growing tight. “I’m scared, and I guess I just hope to find a connection on this trip, the strength I’ve been trying to find for the last couple of months.”
Crew’s brows pull together. “Scared? Why are you scared?”
“The farm is a lot of work, and I’m nervous I’m going to drop the ball. Grandpa Thomas has been helping me with operations, but it’s overwhelming.” A small tear cascades down my face. Crew quickly wipes it away.
“I didn’t know you were feeling that way.”
“Well, how could you?” I say before I can stop myself. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”
“No, you should have. I should have been there. I could have helped.”
“How, Crew? If you haven’t noticed, you’re kind of on track to become a professional football player.”
“I would have at least listened.” He pauses and shakes his head in shame. “I should have listened. You needed a friend.”
“I did.” My lips tremble and I hate that I’m getting emotional. “Pops was one of my best friends.”
“Me too,” Crew says. He reaches over and takes my hand in his. “I miss him so fucking much. I honestly didn’t want to go on this trip at first, knowing how it was going to make me feel. Having to revisit all these feelings and figure out how to say goodbye. I’m just grateful I don’t have to do it alone.”
“I’m grateful, too.” I sit up and wrap my arms around Crew, burying my head in his shoulder. He squeezes me tight and, instead of pulling away quickly, he holds me. Tight. His hand cupping the back of my neck, his chin resting on top of my head.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you, Hazel.”
“I’m sorry you threw so many interceptions this past season.”
He chuckles, and the rumbling sound of his laugh puts me at ease.
When he pulls away, he tips up my chin and says, “Such a smart-ass.”
“One of the reasons you love me so much,” I shoot back.
“Ehh, love is a strong word. How about tolerate?”
“Tolerate—that works, since it mirrors the way I feel about you.”
Chuckling, he pushes me down on my “bed.” “Get some sleep, Allen. Who knows what’s in store for us when we land?”
“Goodnight, Crew.”
“Night, Haze.”
I turn on my side and lower the sleeping mask the flight attendants provided. I curl up and adjust my blanket, ready to get some sleep.
Tomorrow, an adventure begins. The unknown, guided by one of the most important men in my life. I have so many questions, though. Why Germany? Why now? Why with Crew? Why this trip?
Why did Pops have to be taken away from us?
I think the last question is one I’ll never understand. Hopefully the others will be answered along the way.
Chapter Four
CREW
“You’re insane. There’s no way you’re driving.”
“Uh, why not?”
“Because you’re a terrible driver,” I say, holding the keys to the rental car we just picked up.
After we got off the plane, I called my mom to let her know we landed, even though it was the middle of the night for her. She then spoke with Hazel for a while, Hazel laughing the entire time and eyeing me. She reassured my mom that she had no problem not only keeping me in line, but protecting me from any locals trying to get my goods. I could hear my mom’s laughter coming from the phone. They always got along.
She told us there was a reservation for a car waiting for us and once we got the car, we were to head to the Beyond Hotel, where we are expected.
Simple.
Especially since we have no idea where we’re going.
Arms folded over her chest, Hazel says, “Are you saying I’m a bad driver because I’m a woman?”
“No. I’m saying you’re a terrible driver because you are. You can barely drive the tractor on the farm in a straight line, and need I mention how you drove Pops’ truck into a ditch?”
“I was sixteen. I’m much better now.”
“Yeah, I won’t be taking my chances. I’ll be the responsible one taking us carefully through the roads of Germany.”
“If you think this entire trip will consist of you bossing me around, you’re in for a rude awakening.”
“Trust me, I know you’re the one who’s going to be doing the bossing,” I mutter. I go to her side of the car and open the door. “Get in, Twigs. I’m growing hungry and impatient.”
“Starting the trip off with joy, I see.”
I press my hand to my forehead. “You’re right. I’m sorry.” Plastering on a smile, I sarcastically say, “Dearest honey bunny, will you please get in the car?”
Smiling, she moves past me and presses her hand to my chest. “Much better, sir. Thank you.”
Shaking my head, I shut her door, round the back of the car, where I make sure our luggage is secure, and shut the trunk. We were rented an Opel Corsa, a car I’ve never heard of before in my life, but it looks like a four-door Volkswagen hatchback. I’m assuming I’ll be driving from the backseat, but hey, as long as I can get us from A to
B, we should be good. I will admit I’m nervous to drive these unfamiliar roads, and wish I had my Range Rover.
When I sink into the driver’s seat, I grip the steering wheel and take a deep breath. “You ready?”
She nods. “I hope this isn’t a road trip.”
I snort. “Okay, do you not know my family at all? Of course this is a road trip. Pops wouldn’t have it any other way. I just hope we’re not driving across Europe.” I pull my phone from my pocket and type the hotel address into my navigation app. “Forty-three minutes. Okay, that’s not too bad.”
“You’re sure you don’t want me to drive? You look a little tired.”
I adjust my ballcap on my head, the bill facing backwards like always, and say, “You’re not driving. The car is under my name, my name only. We don’t need to take the Hazel coaster to death.”
“You drive one truck into a ditch and you never hear the end of it,” she mutters.
“As it should be.” I turn on the ignition and ask, “Are you ready for this?”
“Barely.” She turns toward me. “Don’t kill us.”
“I won’t.” I swallow hard.
Pops, if you’re listening, please don’t let me crash into anything. After all, this is your fault.
* * *
“Guten morgen,” a valet attendant says, opening my car door.
“Hello,” I say, not quite confident enough to throw down a Guten morgen as well.
“Möchten Sie einchecken?” the attendant asks.
“Um. I’m checking in. Name is Crew Smith.”
The attendant’s eyes light up. “Ah, yes, the front desk has been expecting you. Let me help you with your luggage.”
Someone else helps Hazel out of the car, and our luggage is put on a luggage cart. “Oh, we can handle that.”
“No. We are here to take care of you. My name is Elias. Allow me to show you to check in.”
Hazel joins me at my side and we both walk into a gray building with windows extending up to the roof, a combination of modern and old-century architecture. In the distance, Christmas music plays, and the chill in the air reminds me that I’m not in California anymore. Thank God I brought a winter coat.
When we cross the threshold of the hotel, we’re greeted by a festive lobby. Pine garland is beautifully draped along the walls with glass baubles hanging precariously throughout the garland. The lobby is sleek with dark gray tones and underlighting that highlights the sharp edges of the front desk. Modern, sophisticated—something I never would have assumed Pops would pick for us.
“Guten morgen,” the hotel attendant says.
“Berdine, this is the Smith party.”
Berdine’s eyes light up as well, and she says, “We have been anticipating your arrival.” From behind her, she grabs a small package and sets it on the counter in front of us. “We were told to hand this over to you when you arrived. We already have a card on file. I will just need a form of identification.”
I fish my wallet out of my pocket and remove my ID.
“Ah, from California. I’ve been once. Quite lovely. Is this Mrs. Smith?” Berdine asks, directing her attention to Hazel, who snorts and shakes her head.
“Oh no, I’m Hazel Allen. Friends. Just friends.”
Sheesh, could she sound more insulted?
“Ah, my apologies.” Berdine types away at her computer and then says, “Elias. Room 410 please.” Elias nods and takes off with our luggage. After a few more seconds, Berdine says, “You will be staying with us for one night, it seems.”
“Honestly, we have no clue.” I laugh. “This whole trip is a surprise.”
“What a wonderful way to spend your holiday. On a whim, as they would say.” Looking between us, she asks, “How many keycards would you like?”
“One should be fine, right?” I ask Hazel.
“Yeah, don’t plan on going anywhere without the big guy.” She thumbs toward me.
“Great.” Berdine makes a keycard for us and then hands me my ID before explaining the amenities of the hotel. “Our kitchen is open for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. We’ve quite a list of wines, if you’re interested. Just outside the hotel is the Marienplatz, also known as St. Mary’s Square. It’s full of vendors right now for the Christmas Market. Stalls line the space and are filled with holiday treats and souvenirs. We have a concierge if you have questions about the area.” She hands me a card. “You’re on the fourth floor, room 410. The room overlooks the Marienplatz and Alter Peter. It’s quite breathtaking. Take the elevators up to the fourth floor and then make a right. You’ll find your room quite quickly. Do you have any questions?”
I shake my head and Hazel does the same. “Thank you so much,” I say.
“Of course. We hope you enjoy your stay, and if you need anything, please let us know.”
I smile and then we head to the elevator bank, where we press the up button.
Leaning in, Hazel says, “I honestly wasn’t expecting a hotel like this. I half-expected a shack with plaid wallpaper.”
I chuckle. “Yeah, me too. I wasn’t aware Pops even knew swanky hotels existed, given all the beaten-down cabins I’ve stayed in with him.” The elevator arrives with a ding, and we hop in and press the button for the fourth floor.
“Not going to lie—I’m tired and it’s only ten-thirty in the morning.” Hazel yawns.
“Yeah, I don’t think jetlag is going to be our friend, but I heard we have to power through, not give in to wanting to sleep during awake hours.”
“I read the same thing.”
The elevator dings and the doors open. It takes us a few seconds to find our room, and when we do, Elias is waiting by the door. He smiles as we approach.
“Your luggage is in your room. Please let us know if you need anything else.” I reach for my wallet, but he holds up his hand. “No need to tip, Mr. Smith. Enjoy your stay.” He pushes open the door and Hazel walks in first.
“Oh, wow,” she says on a hushed breath.
Oh, wow is right.
Panoramic views of the beautiful Munich architecture greet us, and it’s what I’m drawn to first. Across the square, there’s an opulent cathedral with gothic-style pinnacles and corbels decorating the front. You don’t find these in America, especially in California. Below is a widespread marketplace, every last inch covered by white tent tops and contrasting green garlands. Christmas lights are strung along the space. It must be a beautiful place to walk through at night.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like this,” Hazel says, one hand pressed against the window. “It’s gorgeous. Do you think Pops has been here?”
“I don’t know. Want to look at the let—” My words fall short when I catch a glimpse of the bed. “Uh, are we supposed to share a bed?”
Hazel turns around and she spots the single queen-sized bed in the center of the far wall. It’s covered with a white comforter, fluffy white pillows, and a yellow throw blanket. It’s calling my name, beckoning for me to take a nap, but my mind is buzzing with the idea that I very well might have to share a bed with Hazel.
“Huh, I think so.” She shrugs and goes to the open bathroom where she picks up a mini shampoo bottle and takes a sniff. “These smell amazing.”
“Uh, aren’t you concerned about having to share a bed?”
“No. Are you?” she asks, her brow crinkled.
“I mean . . . maybe?”
“Why?” she asks as if I’m crazy. “It’s just a bed. We’re grown-ups. We know the no-touch zones.”
“I guess so.”
She sets the shampoo down and walks over to the bed to run her fingers along the mustard-yellow throw. She playfully looks up at me and asks, “Are you afraid you might fall in love with me if we share a bed, Crew?”
“No.”
“Afraid you might wake up horny?”
I clear my throat. “No.”
She laughs, her head tilting back. “Liar. You’re nervous about a little morning wood.” She waves her hand at
me. “Don’t worry, I won’t judge. I’ll let you have the shower first so you can whack off.” She flashes a smile, and I truly wonder how the hell I went three years without this Hazel. A lot changes when you don’t talk to your friend for a while.
“Thank you?” I say in a question.
She pats my chest. “You’re welcome, Hollywood. Just keep the moaning to a minimum.”
I flop down on the bed. “You’ve changed, you know that?”
“That’s what happens when you grow up. You change. You’d have known that if you wrote back to me.”
“How many times am I going to have to apologize for that?” I ask, lying back on the bed and removing my hat. Just let me shut my eyes for a few seconds.
“Oh no, you don’t.” Hazel jumps on the bed next to me and shakes my shoulder. “No sleeping. We have things to do, letters to read, envelopes to open.”
“Come on, let me just get like twenty minutes in.” I roll to the side and rest my head on her lap. She leisurely strokes my hair, and fuck, does that feel good. All it does is make me want to fall into a deep . . . dark . . . slumber . . .
“Crew, look alive,” Hazel shouts, causing my eyes to spring open.
“Hell,” I groan, pressing my hand to my forehead. “You’re relentless.”
She taps my cheek. “Go take a shower, a cold one. I’ll order us some food and coffee to wake us up, and then we can open the envelope together. How does that sound?
“Fine,” I grumble, lifting up from the bed.
She slaps my back. “Attaboy.”
I walk over to the bathroom, and that’s when I realize there’s no wall to the bathroom, just a piece of glass that exposes everything.
“Uh, there’s no privacy in here.”
“You afraid I’m going to sneak a peek?”
“Yeah,” I say.
She chuckles and then walks into the bathroom, moving me to the side. She presses a button and the glass wall tints with a frost, granting privacy.
“Now I won’t see your little man bits.” She walks to the sitting area and sits in one of the two upholstered captain’s chairs. She picks up a folder from the coffee table in front of the chairs and says, “Ooo, bratwurst.”
The Romantic Pact Page 5
