“Now,” Juan whispered.

There was no surprise in his voice, no smile on his lips, just a determined line cutting across his forehead. This wasn’t a question, it was a command, and he pushed me a little to drive in his point.

“Now?” I breathed.

“We’re leaving now,” he repeated. “Before you change your mind.”

Snow could have fallen on the jungle, stars could have rained down from the night sky, rivers could have flowed backward, or the Earth split in two between my feet, and I wouldn’t have blinked, because I felt like I was dreaming.

“How?” I asked him.

“Through the front door,” he shrugged. “Like everyone else.”

“They won’t let me.”

Juan smirked. “They can try to stop you, but they can’t stop everybody.”

His hand felt so warm in mine, almost as if it was burning. I shivered as it slipped away, letting go of me to pull out a gun he’d kept concealed under his shirt.

“No, no, don’t–” I stammered, eyes wide and short of breath. “No, no no–”

“I’ve thought of everything, Em,” he tried to reassure me, although not very successfully. “Trust me.”

I was too frozen with fear to react, so he held my head snugly against his chest and covered my ear with his soft hand. He aimed the gun at the innocent night sky, and fired a bullet.

We peeked around the bush to catch a glimpse of the golden crowd. Someone nearby opened their mouth to yelp, but their shout was drowned out by the music, and hardly more audible than the gunshot. A few people flinched, foreheads creased. Some looked over their shoulder, tapped their friends on the arm, shook their heads, and quickly forgot.

“Everything?” I muttered as I turned back to Juan.

A frustrated frown dug into his forehead, growing deeper with every second. He gnawed on his bottom lip as he loaded his gun with a few more bullets, and fired two more shots.

This time, something happened. The crowd swayed as if crossed by a shockwave, and a clamor rose louder than the music. People started to run in every direction, some stood still like deer in headlights.

Juan’s fingers tangled with mine, and he squeezed my hand real tight.

“Don’t let go,” he breathed, just before he dragged me into the crowd.

Inside the house, pushing through archways and crashing through doors, bodies lapped up the walls like waves in a storm. A misstep or a fall meant death at best, and I watched as a girl tripped and was swallowed by the chaos. Dozens more tumbled like dominos, falling in the spot where the girl had collapsed.

It was like a flood, a human deluge crushing my chest. Kicks and punches hit me like vicious currents, striking the back of my knees and sweeping me away. I elbowed my way through a sea of flesh, freeing just enough space to catch a breath and push through the tide of people that threatened to drown me.

My only lifeline in this sea of madness was Juan’s hand, his fingers clenched tight around mine. He never let go, no matter how raw our fingertips felt and how far our arms stretched. When the crowd tried to pull me away, I held on tighter. I would have rather dislocated my shoulder than lost sight of him.

As we burst into the front courtyard Juan pulled me towards his car, before the stampede of guests could trample me or before I was caught by one of the equally panicked guards. We slammed our doors shut and sank into the front seats, hidden behind the car’s tinted windows.

“See? It worked,” he whispered, his face glistening with sweat and a boyish grin. “No one wants to be around narcos once bullets start flying.”

“Pablo’s going to be mad that you ruined his party,” I cackled, still catching my breath.

“Yeah, well, wait until he notices you’ve disappeared,” Juan snorted.

The car started, and my fingertips gripped the dashboard. Leaving this place still felt like a dream, and I still didn’t know if it was coming true. Until we reached the end of the driveway, I refused to believe that any of this was real.

“Where are we going?” I asked.

“Wherever you want,” he shrugged.

Juan swerved through the crowd with unnerving ease. Either he woke up every morning and drove through apocalyptic scenes, or he knew he’d probably face no consequences if he hit someone with his car.

“Budapest,” I said.

He turned to me, smiling like he hadn’t just caused a deadly stampede and we hadn’t just driven past a young woman in a ripped dress with blood gushing from her forehead.

“Really?” he asked. “I mean, it’s a beautiful city, but you don’t speak Hungarian.”

“You can teach me.”

“Sure.” He smiled. ”Edd meg a puncimat means ‘I love you’.”

Eat my pussy.

“Really?” I frowned.

“Say it,” he said, holding back a snickering laugh. ”Edd meg a puncimat."

I rolled my eyes. “No, it doesn’t.”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged playfully. “It’s what the Hungarian girls kept telling me.”

I punched him on the shoulder and looked out the window so he wouldn’t see me smiling. I couldn’t wait to get to the end of the unending driveway, past the gates, so I could roll down that tinted window and feel the fresh wind of freedom on my face.

I tried to close my eyes for a little, even if it was just for a second. It was going to be a long, winding road, and I wouldn’t get much rest. Not until we reached Budapest.

“Do you have my passport?” I asked.

“Why the fuck would I have your passport?” Juan mumbled.

“How am I going to get out of the country?”

The car’s tires screeched as Juan’s foot slammed down on the brakes. A honk blared as a car swerved past us, speeding so fast it almost toppled on its side.

“Do you want to go back and get it?” he asked.

“It’s too late now,” I gulped.

My heart slowly sank in my chest, like a flat pebble in a murky pond. The car started to move again, although much slower than it did before. I was never much of a hopeful person, but Juan was, and it seemed like even he knew that this road was a dead end.

“We’ll find a way, okay?” he said as he wiped a clammy hand on his white pants.

I tried to nod, but my head just shook, like a bobblehead on a dashboard.

A long line of cars piled up at the end of the driveway, their tail lights glowing like red sirens.

“We’re fucked,” I whispered. “We’re so fucked.”

“They can’t check every car,” Juan tried to reassure me.

The guards had brought out their literal big guns. They paced in a line in front of the shut gates, like soldiers at a roadblock. I watched out as the passengers of one car stepped out and lined up in the middle of the road. One guard patted them down, while another climbed into their vehicle.

Soon enough, another group of guards was standing beside the next car, and knocking on the glass so they’d roll down their window.

“They’re checking every car,” I replied, stating the painfully obvious.

I clenched my jaw to hold back a scream, and let out a sniffle instead. I tried my best not to blame Juan for this situation. I chose to trust him, to follow him, I jumped into the car of my own volition. It wasn’t his fault as much as it was my own, and I was well overdue for a reminder that Juan just wasn’t that clever, after all.

I opened the car door, and the fresh air outside comforted me in my decision. I jumped out of the car, stepping into the shadows and out of the hazy glow cast by the car’s headlights.

Juan’s eyes twitched back and forth between me and the approaching guards. Lucky for me, they were still about three cars away from us.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“I’ll find my way back.”

“Out?” he shouted, leaning toward me so I’d hear him over the hum of the idling engines. “You said you’ll find your way out?”

I shook my head. There was no way out.

“Don’t run back to him, Em,” he pleaded, holding the door open as I went to close it. “You don’t have to be scared.”

“I’m not scared, I’m smart,” I muttered.

It wasn’t fear I felt, walking down the long road that led me back to Pablo. It was anger, rage against myself for ever thinking this was a good idea. It was a gnawing feeling in my guts, a sense of defeat and resignation. It was a shame, burning up my cheeks like the cool night breeze.

I balled up my fists and held my own stomach, picked up my pace yet still dragged my feet. Pablo’s arms were the last place I wanted to be, but when I saw him standing at the end of the driveway, I threw myself into them.

I wept on his shoulder, and he wrapped his jacket around mine.

“What happened?” he asked, gently stroking my hair.

“I thought I was going to die,” I breathed. “I don’t know what happened, everyone just ran and I followed. I almost got trampled.”

“Are you hurt?”

Even in the dark, I could see a glint of concern shine in his eyes. It was bittersweet. I used to fear those eyes like they could read my mind, and now they blindly believed me. I didn’t even have to rehearse my lies, they came to me naturally.

I said I was fine because I was– not like all the people who laid on the floor, many bruised or bloody. Some wandered around, dazed looks and deep cuts on their faces. Others cried warm tears, alone or in their friends’ arms, as they desperately scrambled to find their car keys.

I’d caused this. This pain, this chaos, it was my fault. And it all happened because I was stupid enough to believe I could leave. It happened because one guy made my heart beat faster than anyone else could, and I took it as a sign that I could trust him.

“Where’s Juan?” asked Hernan, as we gathered in a corner of the courtyard with the rest of the group.

I tried my best to ignore him and not glare in his direction. He wasn’t concerned for his son’s safety, that I knew– his tone sounded less like worry and more like exasperation.

“Are the gates closed yet?” hollered Oscar. “We can’t let anyone out.”

Pablo grabbed Beto by the arm. “Keep an eye on the cameras, and bring out the dogs,” he muttered. “I want you to check everywhere. Under the cars, inside the house, the stables, up in the trees, whatever you can think of. The shooter could be anywhere.”

A nervous cough stayed trapped in my throat.

“What shooter?” I asked, in a voice that sounded too high-pitched for my own ears.

“Didn’t you hear the gunshots?” Pablo groaned.

“No,” I shrugged. “I don’t know what happened. I was just heading to the bathroom and then–”

My words were cut off by a ripple in the air, a sound rising from our group. It was a sigh of relief for some, an annoyed groan for others. Juan’s silhouette cut through the darkness, and he walked toward us.

“What happened?” he asked casually, as he rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. “Everyone’s trying to leave, but they’re not letting anyone through the gate.”

“You tried to leave?” Manée frowned. “Without me?”

Juan shrugged, and his nose scrunched up. “Yeah, I panicked. Sorry.”

“Panicked?” his father scoffed.

“You left me behind,” retorted Manée, all but choking on her words. “You abandoned me.”

Juan rolled his eyes at his fiancée, and her outraged shrieking shot up an octave higher. Hernan’s cheeks blew up with an exasperated sigh, and I couldn’t help but wonder how the Sandovals’ wedding preparations were going.

By the time their back-and-forth nagging had turned into a full-blown screaming match, Pablo had gathered half a dozen bodyguards to escort me back to the bedroom.

They turned the house upside down looking for the shooter. They searched better than anyone had ever searched for me. Pablo went to bed with a gun hidden under his pillow and two guards outside the door. I slept fine, knowing the supposed shooter wouldn’t creep up on me in my sleep.

In fact, I slept better than I had in weeks. For the first time in a long while, I had a dream. I was walking down the streets of Budapest, even though I didn’t know what they looked like.

I imagined they’d be paved with old cobblestones, stained black by the centuries. I pictured myself stumbling down the slippery sidewalks, sheltered from the rain by Juan’s coat, drunk on love and cheap red wine, his smile lit up by golden streetlights.

Soon, too soon, the soft yellow glow of sodium lamps was replaced by warm morning light. I found myself hugging a pillow, wrapped in silk sheets that caressed my skin, just like Juan’s hands did in my dream all night.

It must have been eleven o’clock when I woke up, and the first thing I did was curse that ray of sun that pulled me out of my slumber. The second thing I did was to join Pablo and his men at the breakfast table outside. Their skin sagged beneath their eyes, cigarettes hung from the corner of their lips, and steam wafted up from their coffee cups.

“Did you find the shooter yet?” I asked, as I sat down beside Pablo.

“No,” he muttered. “Someone probably got too drunk and excited, fired their gun, and chickened out when they saw the guards show up. It happens.”

“Pablo does it quite often, actually,” Oscar added.

“I thought guests weren’t supposed to bring guns in,” said Juan.

I flinched at the sound of his voice, and my fork loudly scraped the bottom of my plate.

“Yeah, we beat up the guys who were in charge of the gate,” Pablo huffed. “Perhaps that’ll teach them to do their job, next time.”

“You shouldn’t be so lenient when it comes to safety,” Hernan tutted. “All you did was give them a black eye and a few days off. Next time, just shoot them.”

My eyes flicked up toward Juan just as he glanced over at me. We both quickly looked away before anyone could notice us, and before a shameful shade of crimson charred our cheeks.

It wasn’t just our lives we were risking. We had already broken too many eggs trying to make this sticky omelet of an escape plan, and our little evasion to Budapest was turning out to be a recipe for disaster.

I couldn’t bring myself to take another bite out of my breakfast, and I was the first person to stand up and leave the table. I had only just reached the top of the grand staircase in the hall when I heard footsteps echo behind me.

“Em,” Juan called, in a whisper that resonated as loud as a shout. “Wait.”

“What is it?”

“Do you know a room where we can be– you know...” He cleared his throat. “Alone?”

My heart skipped three beats. “Why?”

“We have some planning to do,” he murmured, leaning closer to me. “For Operation Budapest.”

“Third floor, west wing,” I hurriedly whispered. “Last room at the end of the corridor. The one with the lavender walls.”

“Lavender, like, pink?” He frowned.

“Purple,” I sighed. “Lavender is light purple.”

“Got it,” he said with a nod. “See you there in ten minutes.”

Ten minutes. I could feel that little orange butterfly flutter around in my chest. I watched him scuttle back down the stairs, an unfading smile stuck on my face, and headed to my old bedroom faster and more eager than I ever had before.

I pushed the door open, but my head was too full with bright thoughts to let in the flood of bad memories. I skipped over to the bathroom mirror to fix my hair, praying my skin didn’t look as pasty as the avocado walls made it seem.

I sat on the bed and took a few deep breaths, but I couldn’t sit still. I stood up and paced a few circles around the room, sat back down, and waited for Juan to return, as my patience and fingernails chipped away with every passing second.

He finally walked through the door after what felt like an hour, pulling a heavy, large suitcase in behind him.

“Did anybody see you?” I breathed.

“Maybe. There are cameras everywhere, anyway,” he sighed. “If anyone asks, we were planning Pablo’s surprise birthday party.”

I frowned for a second, but since it was far from being the dumbest thing Juan had ever suggested, I let it slide.

“What’s the suitcase for?”

He smiled. “To smuggle you out of here.”

“Today?” I asked.

“No. The guards opened it up this morning when they checked inside my car at the gate,” he mumbled, as he opened the suitcase’s zipper. “We need to wait until they either get fed up of searching through my shit, or until they loosen up the security protocols again.”

A bunch of clothes spilled out of the suitcase as it opened, mainly dress shirts and clean underwear.

“Why did you bring it here?”

“I want to see if you fit inside, or if I need to find a bigger one.”

“You think my fat ass won’t fit inside that huge suitcase?”

“It’s not your ass I’m worried about, it’s the mile-long legs. Although now that you mention it,” he snickered, craning his neck as if he was trying to peek, “maybe I should worry more about your ass.”

I swatted at his face, he let out a laugh as he dodged it. I took a seat on the edge of the bed, watched him as he finished emptying the suitcase, and let my thoughts run through my head like a pack of wild horses.

I felt like I was transported back to my teenage years, at those awkward high school parties where you feel like you’ll never fit in. And then all of a sudden you’re standing there, alone in a bedroom with a guy you never thought would even look your way. Your hands are shaking so much, you can see ripples in the surface of your drink, that red solo cup you’re holding tight against your chest.

You’re grateful the music is so loud, so he’ll never know how much he makes your heart race. You’re laughing at his jokes, just not too much, because you don’t want to seem too interested. Your eyelashes flutter as his hand wraps around your waist, and he leans in for a kiss.

But those things only happen in movies, and I knew I’d never be the girl the hot guy is craving. He’d be up there in a room with a prettier chick, the one who dared him to take her bra off with only two fingers. I was the girl sitting on the armrest of a crowded sofa, petting the house’s golden retriever as I sipped on some stale beer, the sound of shit music buzzing in one ear while some spotty nerd spewed some boring nonsense in the other.

And that was the thing. Juan was one of those guys who’d never look my way. Yet here he was, putting his life on the line to help me escape, planning on leaving his future bride at the altar just so he could run away with me. It made no sense at all.

The smile on my face slowly evaporated and I bit my lip, regretting that I’d let my mind wander off down the darker path again. I hoped that Juan would come and shut my thoughts up with a kiss. Instead, he sat between the empty suitcase and a messy pile of clothes, staring at me with a proud grin.

“Why are you doing this for me?” I murmured.

He replied with a humble shrug. “It’s nice to be someone’s hero when you’ve spent so long feeling useless.”

I wanted to tell him I wasn’t one of those girls who needed any saving, but I figured maybe Juan needed to be lied to just as much as I did. I could tell him he’s helpful and clever, he could tell me I’d make it out of here alive, and maybe someday we’d wish our dreams into existence.

He gestured for me to step inside the suitcase, and held my hand as I crouched down inside. At first, it was funny. I twisted and turned, trying to get into outlandish positions, while Juan gently tried to squeeze in any bits that stuck out. He crammed in my hips by pushing them down, just like you’d squash that one hoodie you really want to fit into your tiny, overfilled bag. Whenever one of us let out a weird grunt of effort, the other would burst into uncontrollable laughter.

Unfortunately, the fun died as fast as a mayfly. The only position in which I managed to fit had my knees pressing against my chest, and my neck bent forward at a painful angle. When Juan zipped up the suitcase, it felt claustrophobic, and when he tipped it over to roll it around my whole body shifted, and I felt every joint in my body crush and crack.

“Everything okay in there?” he asked.

“No,” I squeaked. “I can’t breathe.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure,” I groaned. “Open the suitcase, I need to get out.”

“What?” he mumbled. “I can’t hear you.”

“Just let me out!” I cried.

He tore the suitcase open and I tumbled out onto the bedroom’s wooden floor, moaning in pain and rubbing my lower back where it was most sore.

“This isn’t going to work,” I muttered. “I’ll probably die if we do this.”

“Fuck,” he hissed. “So we have to trash the whole plan and start over?”

“We can still use the suitcase,” I said, dusting my thighs as I stood up. “I can fit inside, but you just can’t move it.”

Juan held his head between his hands, shaking it in despair. “But if I can’t move it, how do I get you from here to the car?”

“I know a way out of the house,” I replied, a sparkle in my eye. “I could meet you in the driveway. Then, I’ll hide in the suitcase so we can sneak past the guards, and you can let me out once we’re on the other side of the gate.”

“How do you get out of the house?” He frowned.

“That’s a secret,” I whispered. “I’ll handle that part. You just need to make sure the guards won’t open the suitcase when I’m inside it.”

Although our cheeks were still burning red with effort and disappointment, mischievous grins spread across our faces.

“I mean, it sounds like it would work,” he murmured.

“It makes your job easier, too. I doubt you’re strong enough to carry me down the stairs,” I snickered, and stepped toward him.

“Are you kidding?” he retorted, a playful arch in his eyebrow. “You’re as light as a feather.”

Before I could answer, he grabbed me by the thighs and picked me up. I let out a small shriek as he stumbled forwards, which was cut short by the way my heart stopped when Juan pushed me up against the wall.

“You underestimate me, Emily Smith,” he purred.

A breath escaped my lips as his teeth grazed the skin below my ear, and his fingers dug deeper into my flesh. He spread my legs apart and I wrapped them around his hips. I would have answered something witty, but he had left me speechless.

I was fulfilling a fantasy that had plagued me for a few years, to be desired by a guy who was way out of my league. A man who could have fucked any supermodel, and chose me instead. I felt tiny in his skinny arms, and weightless as he threw me onto the bed.

Several times, his smile brushed against my lips, and every time I’d hold my breath in anticipation of a first kiss from him. Juan was far more interested in tasting every other square inch of my skin.

His nails carved blazing tracks down the side of my hips, scratching from the small of my waist down to my thighs before his fingertips threaded the wet lace of my lingerie. Desire lit up his dark eyes as they locked with mine.

I shuddered beneath his touch and his grasp tightened around my waist. He lifted my dress further, his skinny fingers fondling every curve he uncovered, and his soft lips blessing them with a kiss. My hands slipped into the small space between us, trembling as I unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned his jeans.

But just as his lips trailed down from my breasts to my stomach, light footsteps echoed down the corridor.

“Juan?” I whispered, my voice already trembling in panic. “You need to hide.”

His furrowed brow peeked up from in between my legs. “What?”

“Hide,” I repeated, shooting up from the bed to push the clothes and suitcase away from the bedroom door.

Juan stumbled around the bedroom, tripping as his pants fell around his ankles. He threw himself behind the lamp in the corner of the room, and I under the bed’s thin covers. My eyes shot to the door, and my teeth sank into my bottom lip as I heard the lampshade clatter.

“Emilia?” Mafer chuckled, a surprised smile on her face. “What are you doing in here?”

“Just looking for some old clothes and, uh, you know– reminiscing,” I stuttered as I bunched the sheets up to cover my bare legs. “What about you?”

“I was just going to clean it, but if this isn’t the right time, I can come again later,” she answered.

Her eyes drifted down to the bed covers that quivered above my hands as I tried to discreetly pull up my panties.

“Yeah, sure, that’s fine, you can come again,” I stammered. “Later, when I’m done. I won’t be long. I just, uh, yeah. Just give me a minute.”

She nodded, and quietly closed the door. I didn’t breathe until the sound of her steps faded away on the other end of the hallway.

“Really, Juan?” I hissed. “Hiding behind a lamp?”

“Well, I wasn’t going to jump out of the window,” he mumbled.

“What if she had walked in?”

“Thank God she didn’t,” he shrugged. “And anyways, isn’t she your friend?”

“She’s also Majo’s friend,” I muttered. “She even warned me about you. Told me not to get involved. I’d rather not tell her about us.”

Juan rolled his eyes. “Seriously, Em, that girl is weirdly obsessed with you. Do you think she’s in love or something?”

“With me?” I scoffed. “No, she isn’t. She has a boyfriend.”

“Until I meet the guy, I refuse to believe any sane person would date that chick,” he sneered.

“Why would you say that?” I cried, as anger filled up my chest, like it always did when anyone said a bad word about my friend.

“She’s so boring it scares me, she’s like a fucking robot. I used to call her The Roomba but Majo made me stop,” he whined, before he raised his eyebrows. “Although now that I think of it, that’s usually a sign that the girl is super wild in bed.”

“Stop it, you’re disgusting,” I groaned.

He kicked his pants off from around his feet, and let himself fall onto the bed beside me.

“So, should we pick up where we left off?” He grinned.

“I don’t think this is the right time or place,” I whispered.

“Oh, you’re going to make me wait?” he crooned, twirling a loose strand of my hair around his finger.

I climbed on top of him, and for a moment, our hearts, pressed atop one another, steadied to a matching rhythm.

“You can fuck me when you get me out of here,” I whispered.

“This is blackmailing,” he replied, as his longing fingers caressed the back of my thighs.

I leaned in closer to his ear. “I just want to be far enough from him that I don’t have to worry when I scream out your name.”

He sucked in a long breath, a grin spreading on his face as he tilted back his head. He ran his fingers through my tangled curls, and the infinite depth of his eyes swallowed me whole.

“You’re going to be the death of me, Em.”

I rolled off of him right on time, just as I felt I was about to lose my mind. If we went too far, we’d risk getting caught, and I didn’t want to turn his last words into a cruel prophecy. Juan sighed, and sat up.

“I’ll leave now, and check if anyone is waiting in the corridor,” I said, as I watched him pull up his jeans. “If there’s someone there, I’ll sneeze.”

He let out a laugh. “Sneeze?”

“Yeah, so you know you can’t leave. Like a safe word.”

“I know better safe words,” he chuckled. “Like red. Or peaches. Or banana."

“Well, aren’t you clever, John Danger Glade,” I retorted, rolling my eyes at him. “I’m totally going to scream banana down the hallway. Everyone here already thinks I’m a maniac anyway.”

“Okay, so banana it is.” He nodded.

“No, I’ll sneeze,” I sighed. “I was being sarcastic.”

His only answer was a cheeky smile, and I shook my head as I headed toward the door. I paused just as my hand touched the handle.

“Before I leave–” I started.

There were so many things I wanted to tell him before I left. I wanted to thank him, for helping me, for being there, or even just for being himself. I wanted to ask him to kiss me, once and for all, I wanted to scream at him to rip off my clothes again, get me on that bed and make me moan out his name.

I shamefully stared at my feet as I pushed away the intrusive thoughts, but I couldn’t help it. Juan was a very moanable name, after all.

I cleared my throat. “Can you show me some pics of Budapest? I just want to see what it looks like.”

He smirked and pulled out his phone as I walked the few steps that separated me from the bed. I sat beside him as he looked up the city on Google.

My heart panged when I caught a glimpse of his search history. ‘Sarah Kennedy missing’. ‘Sarah Kennedy Goose Creek’. ’Sarah Kennedy Ana Peréz. ‘Sarah Kennedy dead’.

That pain was washed away in a second by a wave of wonder as he scrolled through the pictures of Budapest. He showed me all the grandiose buildings that lined the banks of the capital’s peaceful river, all of its stone steps, its green domes, and its sea of red roofs.

He told me about some famous thermal baths whose name I couldn’t pronounce, the beautiful halls of the university where he had studied, and the colorful ruin bars where he used to spend most of his nights.

I had to pull myself away from him and the dreamy pictures on his phone. I’d told Mafer I would only take a minute, and at least ten of those had passed since she had left. Thankfully, when I opened the door and peeked into the hallway, it was empty. Still, just to try out my partner in crime’s reliability, I faked a sneeze.

“Bless you,” said Juan, still splayed out on the bed.

“You’re lucky that was a test,” I mumbled. “Or we’d both be dead.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at the look on his face as I closed the door.

I was still grinning when I reached the hall. I felt like a stupid teenager again, the lucky girl sneaking out of a quiet room at a party, touching herself where her crush’s hands had been, craving a drink that could drown the swarms of butterflies buzzing in her stomach.

Containing my joy was not an easy task. I giggled out loud at the dinner table as I remembered my day, and had to tell Pablo I’d just recalled something stupid that happened years ago. I kept my lips pinched so that I wouldn’t smile too big, but still caught myself waltzing down the corridors instead of walking, practicing for the day I’d be dancing along the banks of the Danube.

That night, and all those that followed, even in the deepest sleep, my smile never dimmed, for my dreams of Budapest had never been brighter.

Budapest

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