The flight attendant gives Blake an uncomfortable smile. “She’s right. Our airlines are based in Europe, so we follow their drinking age on board while over international waters.”
I grin. “Great.”
Felicity nudges me. “What are you having?”
Blake grumbles something unintelligible, but he doesn’t sound happy.
“A Jack and Coke,” I tell her.
“Ooh, me too!” she squeals.
“Excuse me,” Blake says sternly. “We’re barely an hour into this flight. I refuse to babysit two drunken teenagers for the next seven hours.”
The flight attendant walks away quickly—we’re eighteen, and he has no jurisdiction here.
“Just the one,” I tease, winking. I ignore the hot, fiery flash of something in his smoldering gaze.
“To get our trip started on the right foot,” Felicity whines. “Come on, dad. Don’t be such a tightwad.”
I burst out laughing, but I also kind of feel bad for Blake. He means well, and truth be told, I know he’s only trying to protect us.
Blake’s eyes move from his daughter back to me. “I knew this was a bad idea.”
I harrumph and continue reading my historically inaccurate book, ignoring Blake completely—which is hard to do when his leg continues to brush mine accidentally, thereby sending uncomfortable flutters through my core. When the flight attendant brings us our drinks, I thank her, and we all toast—except Blake doesn’t meet my gaze as he does.
“If you don’t make eye contact, it’s seven years of bad sex,” I blurt, and before I can think of what I’m saying, and to whom, Felicity laughs.
“He has to have sex to have bad sex,” she jokes, and then her earbuds are back in her ears, and I’m left with Blake’s seething expression staring at the seat in front of him. I’m just about to open my book again when he slightly turns to face me.
“Seven years?” he asks, holding up his glass. His eyes find mine, and I swear, something daring, something forbidden, flashes behind them.
Something feral.
“Wouldn’t want that,” he says slowly. Sensually. And we clink glasses, our eyes locked on each other as we take a sip.
I’m the first to break eye contact. “I think I might have another,” I say, nodding to my drink. It’s not like I don’t drink—in fact, Felicity and I have had our fair share of drugs and alcohol. But my stomach continues to turn over itself, and it happens whenever Blake’s leg touches mine, or whenever he looks at me. I need something to calm my nerves.
“I’m starting to understand so much about you, Ms. Chambers,” he says unkindly as he looks away.
My cheeks burn at his use of my last name. “You don’t understand me at all,” I answer, tipping the rest of the drink back.
“We’ll see,” is his only response.
Cryptic. Somehow demeaning. Patronizing.
I was stupid to think I’d go from hating Mr. Cooper to liking him in the span of an hour.
He’s still the same old grumpy teacher.
Chapter 4
Wren
* * *
We get into Prague in the early morning, having flown for just over eight hours. I managed to fall asleep after my second Jack and Coke, and only awoke to Felicity nudging me. The grey-blue sky of the Czech Republic is beginning to light the cabin, and I notice a small breakfast tray in front of me.
“Eat,” Blake commands, sitting up and nodding to my food. “We have to get through customs, take a bus to our apartment, and then we’ll have to find food in the city. I can’t guarantee when your next meal will be.”
He’s so brusque. Has he been awake this whole flight? That would explain his sour mood.
I eat without saying anything, watching the clouds disappear and the Czech countryside emerge in neat, green squares. My whole body feels happy at the sight—at exploring an unknown city, at being abroad for the first time ever, at doing something slightly crazy but also amazing. It still feels surreal that we’re in Europe. Felicity is listening to her audiobook as we land, but she immediately pulls her headphones out and takes my hand.
“So, Jenny told me there’s this five-story dance club near where we’re staying. We should go tonight.” I roll my eyes. She’d asked me to pack nice clothes, but I don’t have clubbing clothes. “Before you say anything about your sad, little suitcase, don’t worry—I’ve got you covered.” She winks and pops her headphones back in.
I sneak a glance at Blake, and if he overheard us, he doesn’t say anything.
We taxi, exit the plane, and spend an hour in customs. By the time we get out to the bus station, it’s nearly ten in the morning, but I feel out of it and jetlagged. It’s the middle of the night in New York, and I know the first few days here will be rough. I haven’t checked my reflection, but I know I must look a bit insane.
The air is crisp and cold, and everyone is dressed for the snow—boots, parkas, hats, gloves, scarves. It doesn’t feel that much different than New York, but it is supposed to snow in a few days. I pull my coat tighter, rubbing my gloved hands together. I try not to stare at Blake’s leather gloves—or the way he seems to grip things firmly with them. I don’t know why they fascinate me so much. I think because his hands are just so big.
Once the bus arrives, it’s a quick thirty-minute journey to the heart of Old Town Prague, where we’re staying. I try not to seem too over eager, but I can’t help the large smile on my face as we slow in front of the famous main square. It’s picturesque and quaint, with Baroque architecture and medieval cathedrals. Cafes sit on the cobblestoned roads, the smells of the food wafting into the bus. The city is already bustling with people carrying shopping bags with store names I don’t recognize, and before I can truly take it all in, we stop.
“Follow me,” Blake says, grunting as he hoists our suitcases down onto the sidewalk.
He manages to carry all the bags, and we meander up a narrow, steep road until Blake looks up at one of the charming, crumbling buildings.
“This is us.”
It’s a fairytale—the whole city feels like a fairytale. Like someone preserved a part of the world with so much history, and we should be so lucky as to experience it. The whole city is unreal—and this building? It’s straight out of a history book.
Blake unlocks the door using a code, and after walking us down the hallway, Felicity and I stumble into the modern apartment after him. It’s small, which is to be expected for this part of the world. There are two bedrooms and one bathroom—a fact that makes me only slightly uncomfortable. At least the bed in my and Felicity’s room is a double, so I don’t feel like I’m imposing too much. I tour the apartment and gasp when I see the view from the living room window.
We’re overlooking the Vltava River and the infamous Charles bridge—which has all the medieval charm I could ask for.
“Gorgeous, right?” Blake says, making me jump. I didn’t realize he was standing behind me.
When I turn around, his eyes narrow slightly, and the guilt of being here on their vacation hits me like a ton of bricks.
“Blake,” I start, crossing my arms. “I really appreciate you letting me tag along. I know it’s a lot to ask, and—”