Next Stop: Love (2 page)

That son of a . . .
Come on, say something clever,
I urged myself.
A nice snappy comeback, one that will cut this guy down to size or at least show him you’re quick on the draw.
Try as I might, though, I couldn’t come up with a single good line. Instead, I blushed like an overripe tomato, which brought a knowing grin to his face. He probably thought I was so embarrassed I wanted to die. Actually, I was apoplectic with rage, and
that
was what turned my face red.

God, how I hated this utterly humiliating trait of mine. Lisa had complained once about how she always teared up when she was embarrassed. Seriously, cry me a river. What I wouldn’t give to trade in my red face for a little saltwater. Tears I could at least blink back, whereas the blush would only fade once I’d calmed down. Which obviously wasn’t happening, thanks to my travel companion’s continued provocation.

“What, no vicious retort?” There was a taunting look on his face. “I thought those were your specialty.”

His brazenness shocked me. How could someone be so gorgeous and so horrible at the same time? “There’s no point talking to you, since nothing but bullshit comes out of your mouth,” I snapped, staring out the window in resignation. Just a minute ago, I’d been chomping at the bit, but my heart wasn’t in it anymore. What was the use of spending the rest of the trip trading insults? I
could
have done it, by God—the verbal battles between me and my mother had sometimes lasted for days—but I needed to save my energy for my interview. Besides, the sweltering heat was killing me. No, I wasn’t going to let myself get dragged into this. I was going to sit back and watch the trees go by. They were sure to calm me down.

“Well, at least she knows when to give up,” he murmured to himself. Loud enough that I could hear him just fine, of course. Absolutely unbelievable. I gritted my teeth and glared at his reflection in the window, but his eyes were back on his laptop.

Calm down,
I admonished myself.
Don’t stoop to his level.
But, God, it was so hard. Hey, he wasn’t
laughing
, was he? His tight face and quivering lips made it look like he might be. Oh, how I would have loved to grab his head and pound it against his laptop until he blacked out. That would have given me no end of satisfaction.

We spent the next half hour in an oppressive silence that I found all too welcome. His fingers thundered relentlessly on the keyboard, and I stared out the window and tried to relax, which obviously wasn’t easy with all that annoying clacking. For the first time in my life, I hated someone I’d just met. Everything about this guy irritated me: his smart-ass expression, his
Twilight
-vampire-wannabe hairstyle, his long fingers that twitched around like little spider legs, and his stupid cologne that stank up the whole compartment.

My phone vibrated every so often with texts from Lisa, asking how much longer I would be, but other than that, not much happened.

Asking every ten minutes won’t make the time go any faster,
I texted her.

But it annoys you,
she replied with a winking smiley.

Not as much as this jerk across from me. Get this, he made fun of my jacket being buttoned wrong. What kind of asshole actually does that?

All men in suits are assholes. It’s the way of the world.

I couldn’t help laughing out loud, which made him look up. We exchanged a brief glance that was anything but friendly; after that, he looked at the phone in my hand, then finally shifted his eyes back to his screen.
What, can’t a person even laugh in here?
I would have liked to ask him. But I didn’t want to start another argument—the peace and quiet was extremely refreshing.

Seems so,
I replied.

Well? Is he at least cute?

Though I didn’t see how that particular detail changed anything about his repulsive personality, I responded truthfully with
Unfortunately, yes!

Another minus point. If he starts trying to flirt with you, just ignore it. We both know where that got you last time!

Thanks for reminding me. So caring of you!
I was perfectly aware that my ex-boyfriend was a dick, but I’d been too blinded by his luxury car and his expensive presents. Pretty sad, huh? It wasn’t until he’d announced that he wanted to move to Hamburg to launch his career that I’d realized how little I meant to him. He’d always had money but dreamed of the big time, and I, the simple little village girl, stood in his way.

Since then, I’d given a wide berth to guys with even a whiff of wealth and self-assurance about them. Which wasn’t right, either; I knew I shouldn’t just lump them all together like that. But the approach was working well for me—no hurt feelings, no jealousy, no rules. And that was why I was going to breathe a sigh of relief when I was rid of Mr. Rolex here.

As I got up to go to the restroom, I asked him whether it was all right to leave my bag there unattended. Childish, I know, but I couldn’t help it. To my surprise, he only smiled in response. Oh, so he could play nice, too? Well, how about that.

Once in the ladies’ room, I removed my jacket and splashed water on my face and arms. This goddamned heat was going to kill me. For a moment, I seriously considered drinking some of the tap water, but then I quickly dismissed the idea. I was insanely thirsty, and I didn’t have any cash, but that didn’t mean I needed to drink this sewage. I’d once seen a report on hygiene conditions in trains. Disgusting.

If the train before this one hadn’t been so late that I’d nearly missed my connection, I would have had time in the station to buy some water and even something to eat. But the prices onboard were outrageous, so I had to hold out until we reached Berlin, and it was now easily ninety-five degrees. I dabbed some water on my neck and held my hair up to cool my skin a little. Then I took off my earrings, which were bugging the hell out of me, and stuck them into the pocket of my jacket. Finally, I shucked off my white blouse—I figured it’d only end up soaked with sweat if I kept it on—and untucked the tank top I had on underneath to give my skin some air. I didn’t care how I looked in this top and pencil skirt, especially not in front of
him
. I just wanted to keep from passing out in the heat. So I threw the blouse and jacket over my arm and made my way back.

I should have known what to expect when I returned: naturally, he’d spread out in my absence. I plopped down into my seat with an irritated groan. “Would you please be so kind as to make room for me?” I asked, raising my eyebrows at him impatiently.

“Oh, you mean the way you did for me earlier?” His eyes twinkled in amusement. God, I really was starting to feel like I was back in preschool again. There we were, two adults fighting over legroom.

“That was childish of me, I admit. But if this is your way of avenging that, or the fact that I’m riding in your compartment, then let me just tell you one thing: I’m not enjoying your company any more than you are mine . . . Well, really, I can’t imagine
anyone
would enjoy having you around. So can we just leave it at that? You can’t stand me; I can’t stand you. No further demonstrations necessary.”

He gave me a thoughtful look. “You can’t stand me?” His tone was actually serious.

I laughed derisively. “That’s putting it mildly. I’m afraid this condescending know-it-all attitude of yours doesn’t exactly make you likable. And I’m starting to understand why you reserve a whole compartment for yourself: your ego wouldn’t fit anywhere else.”

He peered at me for an incredibly long moment, and I was expecting him to throw me out, but then he laughed so loudly that I flinched. Had I just said something funny?

“You know what?” He regarded me with amusement, running his fingers along his lips. “I’m almost starting to like you. And I think this journey could end up being lots of fun.”

Then he flipped his laptop shut, and I blinked at him, suddenly uncomfortable. Couldn’t he just go back to staring at his screen? I didn’t want his attention. Confused and intimidated by his appraising gaze, I folded my arms across my chest and turned back toward the window. All at once, I regretted having taken off my blouse, because now, in my tank top, I felt naked and exposed.

I risked a glance in the window, regarding the way his white button-down shirt hugged the contours of his body. The linen was so fine that I could see his skin shimmering through the fabric, and his sinewy arms showed that he kept in shape. I sighed. He really was a fine specimen of the male species. Unfortunately, he was also a prime example of a successful, cold-hearted, arrogant businessman. God, I hated that type, and I hated it even more since I’d fallen for one of them before!

BAGUETTE AND CHOCOLATE

During the next half hour, he had a large bottle of water and two baguettes delivered. He pressed a button on his armrest, and a pretty stewardess with wavy brown hair appeared a few minutes later. She was wearing the standard train-company uniform, except that the skirt was a bit on the short side for my taste. The black stockings that disappeared under her blue skirt were nearly transparent, accentuating her slim, interminably long legs. I felt another twinge as I regarded her figure. I didn’t consider myself fat or ugly, but I wasn’t especially pretty, either. I looked just fine—thick brown hair, enough bust to make men do a double take—but apart from that I was kind of small and ordinary. Not a looker like her.

When my travel companion had finished placing his order, he surprised me by asking whether I wanted anything to eat. His voice was suddenly friendly, without a hint of teasing, and his face was sincere. Yeah, yeah. Probably just wanted to make a good impression on this chick by playing the gentleman. Hypocrite! But men were like that all the time. They were courteous and obliging, romantic and complimentary . . . until they lured us into bed. What the hell was that about, tossing us out like expired food once they’d slept with us? As if we were single-use products that wouldn’t keep long once they were opened.

I replied to his question with a hostile look and a “No, thanks.” The “thanks” part burned my throat like acid, as though the word itself were cursed. So the stewardess made her way out again, and when he cast a long look at her shapely backside, I considered my suspicions confirmed. I made a disgusted face, and once the beautiful woman had disappeared, his gaze slid over to me. He knew what I was thinking, saw it written all over my face, but all he did was smile to himself and type something into his phone. Amazing! He wasn’t even ashamed of his own antisocial behavior.

I looked out the window again, letting the minutes tick by; then the woman returned, and I wished to God she would just turn around and leave. She served him a large carafe of ice water with slices of lime in it and two gigantic baguette sandwiches. When the smell of freshly baked bread, cheese, and sausage hit my nose, my stomach twisted into painful knots.
Don’t you dare growl!
I warned it. Seriously, I would die of shame if my stomach made any noise now. The truth was that I couldn’t afford the food on the train. I didn’t have much money, because I’d just fled the clutches of my evil mother, and what little money I’d brought along, I needed to save for my first month’s rent. So I’d have been only too happy to accept a glass of water and a bite of that baguette from anyone but him. I’d die of hunger or thirst before I’d take him up on an offer he was only making to impress that woman. No way, not me.

She’d barely set the food down before he grabbed the sandwich and sank his teeth into it. Apparently, he really was hungry. My stomach began growling, though quietly, and I prayed it would stay that way.

“Should I put this on your bill as usual?” she asked, gazing at him as though she wished she were the baguette he was devouring.

“As usual, yes, thanks,” he said once he’d swallowed the bite. She nodded and left the compartment, shutting the door behind her. He then returned his attention to the sandwich, and I couldn’t help watching him enviously. The spicy scent of marinated meat saturated the room, and the tomatoes peeking out the sides looked as ripe and juicy as the ones in restaurant commercials. I even thought I saw beads of water on the lettuce—I was that hungry. And we weren’t even halfway to Berlin. How was I supposed to keep my mind off food for that long? I could go through first class begging for change, I thought wryly. Or maybe I could conquer my fear of the restroom water after all, and drink that until my stomach burst. Ugh.

“You know, some would call it bad manners to watch other people eat.” The remark snapped me back to reality. “But with that hungry look you’re giving my baguette, I assume you’d like some as well?” he added, swallowing the last bite.

I must have been completely lost in thought, because I only realized now that he’d eaten the whole gigantic thing. By himself. In under two minutes. Unbelievable! “I was just daydreaming,” I explained, looking embarrassed.

At that, he gave me a crooked smile. “And what were you daydreaming about?” he asked. “My baguette?”

“Yeah. I mean, no, no,” I corrected myself, giving myself a mental smack in the head.

“Believe me, this thing’s big enough. I’d be happy to let you have a taste,” he offered, gesturing to the second sandwich. Was it just me, or was our conversation starting to get a bit lewd? If his mischievous grin was any indication, he was referring to one very specific baguette.

“Thanks, but I think I’d choke on it,” I retorted.

For the next two or three seconds, he stared at me in disbelief; then his smile broadened into a demonic grin. Suddenly I realized that there were two different ways to interpret my response.

“Um . . .” I laughed awkwardly and felt a wave of heat welling up inside me. “I didn’t mean it that way,” I explained, holding up my hands. “I just wanted to say . . . that . . . if I took anything from you . . . I’d choke on it, but . . . not because of its size, just . . .”
Oh, my God, just shut up already!

He listened to me stammer with visible delight, pressing his lips together tightly to keep his expression serious. I wanted to jump out of the moving train. All I’d wanted to say was that if I’d accepted anything from him, I’d have choked in disgust. I wasn’t talking about his . . .
thing
. I didn’t mean for it to happen, but my gaze wandered automatically to his crotch. Thankfully, the table was there to block my view.

My stolen glance in that direction still hadn’t gone unnoticed, though. “You should quit that, or I might think you’re trying to flirt with me,” he remarked, raising an eyebrow. Oh, he was just gorgeous when he did that.

“Don’t worry, you’re not my type at all,” I lied, folding my arms uneasily across my chest. Lord, I had just made the world’s biggest fool out of myself.

“That’s a shame,” he murmured, so quietly that I wasn’t sure if I’d only imagined it. Then he leaned in across the table and held the baguette out in a conciliatory gesture. “Come on, have a little bit,” he insisted. “We have a long ride ahead of us.”

I stared at it as though it were a poisonous snake. What made him think I would accept anything from him? I wasn’t a beggar. “What I was saying was that I’d choke on it in
disgust
!” I emphasized, looking out the window again.

He leaned back again with a laugh. “You really think I’m that disgusting?” he asked, amused.

“More like repulsive, which has to do with your horrible personality.”

“Ah.” Looking intrigued, he set the sandwich aside. Somehow I had the feeling that I’d said the wrong thing yet again. “So it’s only my personality that repulses you, not my appearance?”

I turned to face him, baffled. Was he flirting with me somehow? Now? After we’d already established that we couldn’t stand one another? “This may come as a shock to someone like you, but some people think it’s what’s inside that counts.”

“The ugly ones do, sure,” he agreed dryly.

I shook my head. “Wow. Seldom have I encountered such arrogance.”

“I’m anything but arrogant. More like confident.” He folded his hands behind his head, which tightened his biceps. As if I needed any more proof of his physical fitness.

“What’s the difference?” I asked, not actually interested in the answer. I just wanted this trip to end.

“Arrogant people think they’re better than everyone,” he explained. “Confident ones just know how to use their own strengths and charms.”

Such bullshit. “And what are your strengths?”

“I’m very observant, and I have an exceptional memory,” he replied, without sounding stuck-up. He stated this as a simple fact, something he’d known for a long time but didn’t consider unusual. “For example, I know that you were wearing sapphire-blue earrings earlier, but now you’re not.”

Wow, so he really was observant. Especially considering the earrings had been hidden by my hair. But if he was so observant, then surely he’d also picked up on the fact that I didn’t like him, so if he would just kindly leave me alone . . . ? To underline the point, I turned back toward the window.

“What about water? Don’t you want something to drink at least? It’s hotter than hell in here. Don’t get dehydrated on me.”

“No, thanks, I’m not thirsty,” I lied, without deigning to glance in his direction. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him shrug and take a sip himself. I swallowed and felt how rough and scratchy my throat had become. One thing was for sure: as soon as we reached Berlin, I was going to drink a whole tank of water dry.

At some point, I looked at my watch and could barely suppress a groan. Still two more hours. Why had time slowed to a crawl? I’d traveled to Berlin plenty of times to visit Lisa, but this time the journey felt especially long. All thanks to this idiot, who had completely abandoned his work and was constantly trying to draw me into conversation about this or that. I had no idea what I’d done to awaken his interest; if I had known, I’d have taken it back. He asked me where I was headed, where I came from, and what my plans were, but I kept my replies as vague as possible. Why was he suddenly so interested in me? Every so often, he ordered me to drink some water, but I didn’t want anything of his. Guys like him took it as a binding agreement when a woman accepted anything from them. Like in clubs—if a woman let a guy buy her a drink, he thought he had staked a claim on her and expected her to spend the rest of the evening with him.

Mr. Rolex was the same way, except that this was just water. Water that my body desired more than anything. I was even toying with the idea of stealing a sip . . . if only he’d leave the compartment for a second. But he didn’t budge.

When he started lecturing me about dehydration, it was the last straw. “Listen, I don’t want your fucking water,” I snapped, rising to my feet. “If I’m thirsty, I’ll let you know. And now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go stretch my legs.”

He raised his hands in resignation. “As you wish. I was only trying to be polite.”

Ha! That ship sailed a long time ago! “Thanks, but as we already established . . .” Suddenly my legs began to tingle, and the edges of my field of vision started to turn black. It happened so fast that I didn’t have time to sit down or prop myself up.
You stood up too fast!
was my last thought before everything went dark.

“. . . you hear me?” I heard a distorted voice say. I blinked my eyes open and found myself staring into a pair of smoky-green eyes.

“Dammit,” I mumbled, dry-mouthed, and shifted my gaze to the ceiling.

“Indeed,” he said as he hefted me into a sitting position. My body felt numb, so I could barely feel him touching my skin, but it was still unpleasant. Once he had propped my back against the seat, he held a cup of water up to my mouth. “You know, I hate to be a smart-ass again, but . . . I did warn you,” he remarked, still watching me with those astonishing eyes.

I avoided an answer by raising the cup to my lips and emptying it in a few gulps. Then I asked, “Did I land on my head?”

“No, I managed to catch you in time,” he replied, giving me a worried once-over. For the first time since I’d entered the compartment, there was no trace of mockery or disdain in his expression, only genuine concern. “Feeling better?” he asked, pouring me another glass. Again he held it to my lips, and again I drank. I shouldn’t have gone so long without water—my body was really parched.

“Yeah, better. Thanks . . . for catching me,” I added sincerely, wiping my sweaty brow.

He laughed. “Don’t thank me. Seriously, that sounds like the beginning of a cheesy love story.”

Against my will, I had to laugh, because from what I recalled of our earlier conversations, we clearly weren’t made for each other.

“Can you stand?” he asked once I’d finished the second cup.

I tried, but my legs still felt a little numb. “I could use a hand,” I admitted. He took my arm and pulled me up—but he swung me around a little too energetically, and I bumped into him. I still didn’t have enough blood in my legs to stand firmly on my own, so he steadied me with his hand on my back. Suddenly his eyes and lips were much too near mine. Was it really necessary for him to hold me so close? And were his pupils dilated, or did they just seem so because my brain was still foggy? I could see flecks of yellow in his irises; it was a fascinating sight.

When I leaned back a little to put some distance between us, he set me down in my seat again, the corners of his mouth twitching. “You did that on purpose,” I declared, but it sounded neither insulted nor furious. My voice just wasn’t stable enough yet . . . And besides, being close to him hadn’t been nearly as revolting as it should have been.
Oh no, don’t you even go there!
I warned myself.
You’re never going to see this guy again, and valiantly breaking your fall doesn’t automatically make him a man of honor. He probably only did it because he doesn’t want any dead bodies in his compartment. Just remember how rude he was before! This is Satan himself, disguised as a monk.