Uncomfortable

[eleven]

Private planes are extravagant.

And fast. Very fast.

Alden is right. We saved hours last night not having to go through security. We walked right out to the plane and sat down in this amazing cabin with plush, spacious seats. There were more seats than there were the two of us. There was a table and a stewardess who handed us champagne and dinner.

Then we walked out through expedited customs and into a car to our hotel. Yes, Alden got me my own room.

Another thing Alden definitely left out on purpose was that he got us a car service to take us to Neuschwanstein Castle.

He is taking his role of making me feel special seriously.

The car ride is silent. My nose is glued to the window as I try to soak in everything Germany will allow me to.

I'm also hyper-aware of Alden's body next to mine. One centimeter separates us, like a pane of glass has been wedged between us and we're smushed against it. When I'm not looking out the window, I'm looking at his hand. We're shifting together, we're watching the other, we're paralleling our movements. Our body language is dangerous.

His hand will rest on the side of his leg sometimes. Mine will tap my knee. Our arms briefly touch and linger.

His foot will rearrange itself into mine sometimes. Mine will rearrange itself back. Our legs briefly press into each other and pause.

But one thing I'm not going to do is make a move. We're already being reckless. I think we both feel it, and we're both trying to ignore it—while not ignoring it at the same time. We're taking what little we can get.

"You should be able to see it soon," Alden tells me.

I can't tear my eyes off of his blue ones. He smiles and looks out past the window before his arm extends around my shoulders, rests on top of them, and points out the window behind me.

"Look," he whispers. He takes one finger and gently presses my chin to control my neck.

His breath tickles my ear, and I can smell his minty mouthwash, which makes my brain let me know that it has a bursting need to taste his tongue. And I can definitely smell his deodorant, which is making my stomach do a loop-the-loop.

I can't remember the last time I had a real crush. Ten years of being comfortable makes you forget how these things go: being so focused on the little moves someone makes, your stomach dropping when your eyes connect, always knowing exactly where they are in a room full of people. All the fun and absolutely terrifying little things that I haven't experienced in over a decade.

I pull my head around, but I only catch a glimpse of the very top of some of the towers through the trees. Maybe I missed the only spot where the trees opened up because I was frozen for too long.

"Why are we driving away from it?" I worry when we make a turn and it's retreating in the distance. I narrow my eyes at Alden. "Is this some elaborate joke to make me cry again? Is Penny here to laugh at me?"

"You have to see it from Mary's Bridge first," he says like I'm crazy.

"Mary's Bridge?"

"You don't know about Marienbrücke?"

Alden's face lights up when I furrow my eyebrows, waiting for him to elaborate. He doesn't. I can feel his excitement, because I must have surprised him with my lack of knowledge about this so-called bridge.

The car stops.

We get out near a clearing. Alden directs me to the start of a path that disappears downhill.