There were a lot of things I didn’t know about Kelsey Summers. But I did know that I was getting really tired of living on the sidelines.
8
KELSEY SPENT TWO more days in Belgrade, but I only saw her once. I’m not sure whether it was the phone call or the interaction with the VIP ass**le, or something else, but she barely left her hostel.
At first, I thought maybe the GPS app was broken or that she’d left without her phone. I decided to head over and check just in case. Just as I was approaching the front desk to ask about her, she walked past in a pair of cotton shorts and a T-shirt.
If I hadn’t spent so much time staring at her, I don’t think I would have recognized her. Her hair was pulled up and wound into a knot on the top of her head. And she wasn’t wearing any makeup. Her normally dramatic eyes were clean and bare. Her long eyelashes a dark blond.
She was still pretty, of course. But a different kind of beauty. It made me imagine lazy days in bed or movie nights on my couch. I thought of how it would feel to be with a girl like Kelsey, to have her comfortable enough with me that she didn’t need the clothes and the makeup and the hair.
To have her be mine.
Somehow, I wanted this version of Kelsey even more, because she felt more real than every other version of her I’d seen so far.
I followed her to the grocery store. She didn’t leave her hostel again until the day she checked out and headed for the train station once more.
In Budapest, it was like she hit the reset button. She was back to that vibrant character that drew everyone’s gaze like a magnet. If possible, she seemed to have turned the volume up even further. Like each night had to outdo the one before it.
After a few days like that, though, I started to recognize patterns of her cycle. Just like before, she would get these quiet moments where she seemed to zone out and forget the part she was playing. Her face would go blank, even as her body kept dancing or partying or whatever.
And I could just tell; another crash was coming. I wondered how long it would take before she gave up trying to fool herself in the same way she fooled the rest of the world.
With another girl and three guys, they ventured into an area of Budapest away from the center of the city. The streetlights became fewer and farther in between, and there were empty storefronts and derelict buildings.
Kelsey didn’t seem to notice. They’d already been drinking for a few hours.
But I was on high alert.
Since arriving in Budapest, Kelsey had been throwing around money like it was nothing. Buying people drinks and dinner and whatever else it took so they’d treat her like the center of attention.
I was tired for her.
She just tried so damn hard, and I didn’t understand why. She was gorgeous and vibrant, and she didn’t need to do those things for people to want to be around her. She didn’t need a lot of the things she surrounded herself with.
And throwing around money like that could have dangerous repercussions.
When the group led her into what looked like an abandoned building, my heartbeat thundered in my ears. I gave up stealth and sprinted after them, ignoring the careful distance I’d been trying to keep.
I threw myself through the front door and into a long, dark hallway. Music thumped, bleeding through the walls, and I sighed.
No danger. Just another party.
I followed the hallway until it opened out into some kind of secret bar, like the speakeasies that were popular during prohibition. You had to know where to look to find them.
The bar was a mix of mismatched furniture and odd décor. I imagined that they’d just picked up whatever other people threw out, and adorned the walls with the weirdest combinations that they could find.
It was definitely the most interesting bar we’d been in yet, and if this had been the first week of our trip, I might have entertained myself studying it all, but at this point, I could care less about seeing another bar.
All my attention was on Kelsey.
I didn’t want her to crash. I thought back to that night in Belgrade, the way she’d just crumpled after that phone call. If that happened again . . . I would do something. I had to, right?
From my perch across the room, I watched her dancing with two of the guys she’d come with. When one of them went back to the bar, she wrapped her arms around the other guy’s neck. When he leaned down to kiss her, I shifted uncomfortably.
Somewhere along the way, I’d given up trying to convince myself to treat this like a mission. It wasn’t possible. She reminded me too much of myself before my fallout. And in letting go of that distinction, I had to embrace the one thing it had kept at bay.
Guilt.
Was protecting her a good enough excuse for prying into her life? For witnessing things that should have remained private?
I felt sick down to my bones, but I kept watching all the same, which is why I had a front-row seat for what should go down in the Guinness World Records book as the best way not to seduce a girl.
She tried to pull back from the kiss, and the guy sucked on her bottom lip like it was a lollypop. She made an expression of horror, and I couldn’t help the laughter that ripped out of my mouth. She was always so calm and put-together and seductive, even when she was sad or drunk, but now her eyes bulged and her expression twisted in disgust.
It was f**king hilarious.
And when her eyes seemed to stick on me, while her bottom lip was stuck between his teeth, it was déjà vu. Like when I thought she’d seen me in Belgrade. I just assumed I was imagining it again. She finally managed to tug her lip free only for the guy to lick across her cheek. I held my abdomen, my muscles cramping from the first good laugh I’d had in ages. If every night were like this, I could handle her nightly bar crawls a lot easier.
Though those bar crawls would probably stop happening if every guy were like him. Her look of horror shifted from the guy in front of her to me, her eyes swooping down to scan me from head to toe.
Again, I told myself I was imagining it.
She made an excuse to get away, shouting “Toilet!” at the top of her lungs to be heard over the music. Almost as if it were choreographed, every head in the vicinity turned to look at her, but she turned to look at me. The laugh curled up and caught at the base of my throat.
I looked around, and with my back to the wall, there wasn’t anyone else in the vicinity she could have been looking at.
I wasn’t imagining anything.
She saw me. Really saw me.
She threw her hands up in the ultimate f**k-it-all gesture, and I found myself stepping forward as she exited the dance floor. I told myself it was because of the slight sway on her feet, that I was staying close because she was drunk.