Page 64 of Eight Weeks
This time, there is no goodbye after the promise. Neither of us has to leave and go catch a flight to another country. He hasn’t just said those words because he is afraid to never see me again, hemeansit.
His lips connect with mine like he’s sealing a deal. And with this kiss, he promises yet another thing. It’s a promise of realness. He promises me years with him, alifetime. In his kiss is the promise of a future, the sweetness of waiting for, and having found reallove.
This isn’t some movie or book worthy kiss. It’s far more than that. It’s a step forward, a step into a passion that could easily catch on fire if handled wrongly. And yet, in his kiss I find home.
“And let’s be honest here, no one but me would ever put up with a tangled-themed wedding,” he adds as soon as we pull apart from the kiss.
I could swear my cheeks are redder than the wine I drank last night, but I also don’t really care right at this moment. They only manage to deepen in color even more when I hesitate to ask, “Does that mean I’m your girlfriend now?”
Aaron suddenly reaches a hand out for my neck, tugging on my necklace that he did not take off before putting me to sleep. “We’re way past the girlfriend and boyfriend status, my love. You’ve been my fiancée ever since I gave you this necklace.” He blinks slowly, inhaling deeply like he can’t believe he just said that. “We don’t have to put a label on anything, but you sure as hell aren’t justanyoneto me.”
35
Aaron
“everything that kills me makes me feel alive”—Counting Stars by OneRepublic
If I have learned one thingwhile being here in Germany… anything I thought I knew, everything I’ve thought of being amazing in America, Germany does it better.
Like the Christmas markets!
It looks so magical; I feel like I’m in one of the most popular Hollywood Christmas movies. Germans may not decorate their houses as crazy as we do in America, but holy fuck, their Christmas markets are everything.
There is not one stand that isn’t decorated. Not one inch of this place that doesn’t light up in Christmas lights, not even the outdoor ice rink is blank. Yes, you heard me right, an ice rink. I think you pay five euros to skate for an hour, but I haven’t seen one Christmas market in the U.S. have an ice rink present.
Sure, we have some around a couple of cities during the wintertime, yet nothing quite like this.
But there is also one thing I don’t understand about being here. Why are there so manyteenagerssitting or standing by booths, drinking what Sofia has told me is calledGlühwein—about the same as mulled wine? It’s still strange to me that they can buy certain alcohol at the age of sixteen here, and that it isn’t illegal to drink outside.
Seriously, they could walk around with any alcoholic drink in their hands, and they wouldn’t face consequences here.
However, there is one huge downside. I do not understand a single word these people utter.
Sofia is currently looking at some glittery decorations, leaving me standing all by myself, and this man is trying to—so I would assume—sell me some weekend in Hawaii.
Maybe not that, but he sure is trying to sell me something.
Well, or he is offering me his daughter’s hand. Either way, all I do is nod politely and smile at the man, praying I am not selling my soul to the devil right now.
“Aaron,” I hear Sofia say despite being zoned out. “My friends and I are going to skate for a while. I figured you might want to join us?”
“Fuck, yes.” I was praying she’d suggest that ever since I found out about the ice rink. If there is one thing I will never get enough of, it would be skating. I could spend a whole week on the ice and not get bored. A little freezing maybe, and catch myself a cold, but I’d find things to occupy myself with.
Okay, a week is exaggerated, but you get the point.
“Are they figure skaters?” I find myself asking as she pulls me away from the guy that now wears a huge question mark over his head.Yes, dude, I was just as confused when you started talking to me.
“No, but I suppose they know how to skate.”
“I’m not teaching anyone.” Except for Sofia, but she knows how to skate already.
What a bummer. Imagine the fun we could have on the ice.
Sofia constantly falling but getting excited when she made it a couple of inches without. Me holding her close to me as I guide her. Holding hands while skating, or her clinging on to my arm.
But her knowing how to skate also brings advantages… like,races. Yes. Who’s faster on the ice?Me. Who’s more comfortable on skates?Me. Who’s better at ice hockey?Me, obviously.
Also, women that know how to skate, in my eyes, are a million times more attractive.
