“I mean, more or less. We can take some pictures for your social media first, if you’d like. That way it can look like we hung out for a good amount of time. I’m better in videos than I am in photos, though, so maybe we can do a few Boomerangs instead. What do you think?”
“I think that sounds fantastic,” I answer. “Actually, it works out perfectly because I’d much rather have a video of the stranger I’m apparently about to bang on vacation than a photo. But I’m a little worried about the lighting. Any chance you have an iRing handy? Or should we maybe delay this rendezvous until sunset?”
Colin stops walking, looking at me with what I can only guess isso you’re not going to have sex with medisappointment in his eyes.
“I get the feeling that you’re joking,” he says.
“Yeah, me too.”
A bitter kind of smirk appears on his face as he scratches the back of his neck. “To be fair, what was I supposed to think was happening here? You told me you’re only visiting for a few weeks and wanted to meet new people.”
“Um, plot twist, maybe I meant just that?”
“That’s not what I’ve found when meeting up with girls in these kinds of situations. Particularly American girls.”
Okay, and now he’s trying to slut-shame my fellow countrywomen? This guy is two-point-five seconds away from receiving a very American kick to the balls.
“Wow, you’re awful, aren’t you?”
“I thought you appreciated honesty?” he counters.
“Yes, I do,” I answer evenly. “And I would also appreciate it if you would go share your pee-your-pants seduction story with a therapist or a priest instead of with unsuspecting tourists from now on.”
He pushes his shoulders back and turns away to glance across the park. “Right, then. I can’t believe I wasted cab fare on this.”
“I know, such a bummer, right?” My tone is all sympathy, and it earns me a minor scowl in return. I smile brightly up at him as he turns on his heel and walks away. It’s understandable. I’d be pissed ifmyanonymous midmorning sexcapade got canceled, too.
I shake my head, then try to enjoy what’s left of my coffee as I begin walking towards the exit/entrance where I came in. I’m not overly fazed by my brief and gross encounter with Colin, but I’m certain it’s not the romantic material Juliette is looking for. I’m just leaving the park, and hoping she won’t be too disheartened, when I hear a strange sound coming from the bushes beside me. It’s a rustling of the leaves and a quiet cry, and I immediately stop walking. I inch a little closer, inwardly hoping that I’m not teeing myself up for a rabid raccoon bite when a small dog crawls out, trembling and looking terrified.
A pup-pup!
I don’t hesitate to drop to my knees. “Hi there,” I coo, trying to draw it closer. “Hey, baby. It’s okay, you can come over.”
The poor thing is beyond dirty and shaking like a leaf, and after a little more coaxing, he comes close enough to let me pet him. I can tell he’s not really a puppy, but a few years old and some kind of cocker spaniel. He looks even older with the layers of dirt that are matted into the fur under his eyes. My insides tighten as I think how uncomfortable he must be. I slowly pick him up and almost implode with maternal rage when I realize that he’s frighteningly underweight. Seeing that he’s not wearing a collar, I’m not positive what the exact protocol should be in this scenario, but I do know that this dog is leaving the park with me. Once I get back to the apartment, I’ll research what I should do, and I’ll take him to a vet as soon as possible. I’m sure they can tell me what my next steps should be. Also, henceforth, his name is Ollie.
Continuing to pet Ollie’s tangled caramel-and-white fur in comforting strokes, I head back to the apartment and try to anticipate how I’ll be received. I don’t think Juliette dislikes dogs, but I haven’t seen her interact with one either. We get to the penthouse and take the lift up with little incident, but I feel a stirring of uncertainty as we stand just outside the door. Forcing my nerves away, I turn the key in the lock and ready myself for whatever reaction I’m about to face. No sooner do I swing the mahogany door open than Ollie leaps from my arms and sprints inside. My mind flies to the flawless beige carpeting, and my heart drops.
“Ollie, wait!” My fear has me rushing into the apartment after him, running through the entryway and into the living room, where I stop dead in my tracks.
Ollie is now vigorously humping the calf of a very tall and dashing redhead.
Said redhead appears as shell-shocked to see me as I am to see him, his hands whipping up in a startled kind of surrender. “I swear I’m not an intruder. I’m just here visiting my aunt Juliette.” I remain momentarily frozen as his eyes shift between Ollie and me. “Assuming I’m telling the truth, which I’m sure my aunt will attest to when she comes back out in a second, do you think it would be possible to call off the dogs?”
I shake my head and break out of my stupor long enough to quickly cross the room and lift Ollie up into my arms. “Right, I’m so sorry about that,” I say, unsure of the proper etiquette after a sudden, random dog-humping.
“No, it’s alright. Believe it or not, this happens to me fairly often.”
“Does it really?”
“No, that would be quite odd, actually.”
I have to laugh a little, and the man gives me a comforting smile.
“Yes, that would be pretty weird,” I agree. “And you seem like a very un-weird kind of guy.”
“Do I?” I nod, and he appears pleased. “Fantastic. My daily affirmations must be working, then.”
I give him a look that conveys his weird factor is increasing by the second, and it prompts him to take a small step forward.
