“I hope so, I’m really excited. I keep checking to make sure my passport hasn’t walked out of my bag on its own.”
He gave me a hint of a smile. "It's my favorite place to tour, you’ll see. "
"I like Australia," Sacha piped up from the driver seat.
"I like Europe," Mateo added.
Sacha made a farting noise with his mouth, his attention focused on the road. "Everybody knows you just like going to the Red Light District."
"The Red,RedLight District?” I slowly asked like there was another Red Light District in the world.
Mateo had the decency to give me a sheepish smile over his shoulder. "Yeah."
"Interesting," I drew out the word, trying to imagine Mateo walking up and down the street, picking up hookers. He was average height, average build, dark-haired and dark eyed. Julian definitely looked like more of the type of pick up a prostitute, but what did I know?
Mateo began babbling about how there were more than just hookers in Amsterdam, but I kind of zoned him out a little. We pulled in next to a park soon afterward and jumped out of the car. I snatched the sunblock from Sacha when he was done with it and slathered on more than I probably needed. We paired into two teams. Mateo slapped Sacha on the shoulder in his way of claiming him, leaving Isaiah and I paired up together.
We ran and ran and ran.
Up and down the field over and over again, chasing each other around. Just like the first time we'd played, the game started off pretty clean. We kept a respectable distance between each other and only focused on our feet to steal the ball. But after a few close goals, Sacha's hip checked mine and it was game-fucking-on.
"You little cheater," he laughed when I poked him in the ribs to distract him.
We played on and off for close to two hours until I had to lie on the grass from how hard I was panting. Sacha snaked his hand out for me to take and hoisted me up onto my feet. We got back into the car, having decided to stop for food on the way back. As soon as we settled in, he passed me his iPhone between the seats.
"Put in your number," he demanded.
We were leaving the country in two days, and I didn’t see the point in giving him my number when he wasn’t going to be able to use it, but I kept my mouth shut. I'd just finished typing in my name and number when his phone started ringing. “Liz” appeared on the screen, making my stomach churn at the memory of Ronalda and Sacha sitting on the couch together.
Ugh.
"Your friend is calling," I muttered, handing him back his phone while trying not to make a face. Or at least a face Isaiah could see from his spot next to me.
Sacha glanced at the screen once he took the phone out of my hand, paused for a moment, and finally put it to his face to answer.
"Hey…I just got done playing soccer… With Mat, Isaiah and Gaby… Yeah, she played… No, I guess she doesn't worry about her bikini line… Having a tan line isn't the end of the world, Jesus… No… No… We're leaving in two days… I haven't changed my mind… Liz… Liz… We already talked about this… Look, we're going to eat. I'll call you when I get back… Because!”
Yeah, I was totally watching his face in the mirror. I had no shame. Sure I was trying not to make it noticeable, but my ear was out and listening to every word.
Later on, I could remind myself why my stomach hurt and deal with being in a bad mood, but in that instant, I was listening.
Sacha blew out a loud breath, his eyes darting to the ceiling for a split second before continuing his call. “You need to think about what I told you. I'm not going to change my mind… Now isn’t the time to talk about it… I told you in the bus—we’ve already gone over this. Okay?... I know… Okay… Bye."
Well, then. That was awkward.
Isaiah gave me a long side-glance before he cleared his throat. "She still giving you shit?"
Sacha nodded stiffly. I could see his hands flexing on the steering wheel. "She's just—," he grunted at the end in what I could only assume to be frustration.
Was it wrong that I sat there chuckling internally to myself? Nah. Well, maybe a little. I should have been sad that my friend was upset, but I wasn't.
"Women," Sacha huffed, turning really quickly to look at me with an impish grin.
I leaned forward and flicked his cheek in response.
"What aremy chances of dying of heatstroke?"
"You have a better chance of dying if I trip you on the way down."
