Page 18 of The Risks of Reuniting (Love Connections #1)

I'm not sure where to look first. The Plaza is a square, with beautiful buildings on all sides and a park in the center.

The streets are wide, made of cobblestone, and filled with all manner of people.

Tourists, vendors, locals, school children – it's colorful and vibrant, and worlds away from what I'm used to.

I'm officially mad at myself for living in such a comfortable little box for so long and missing out on experiencing the world.

"You're only twenty-three," Holt says, at my side once more. Sneaky man. "You have your whole life to explore."

Dang him for once again knowing what was happening in my head. Didn't we sever that connection when he moved across the country?

I don't bother looking at him when I say, "I'm thinking about how much I want one of those churros."

His answering chuckle is quiet. "They're worth the soles. "

I smile when he waves over a vendor carrying a large tupperware full of hot, fresh, sugar-covered churros. He converses with the seller and hands her a few coins. She, in turn, hands him four beautiful, large, crispy churros and my eyes grow wide.

"Gracias, senor," I say to him as I greedily grab one.

He laughs and says, "Enjoy, fair princess," before hunting down Cesar and Rachelle to give them each one.

I bite into the perfectly cooked confection and spin in a slow circle, taking in all that goodness.

It's kind of nice to not be enemies anymore.

The Church of San Agustín is as breathtaking as everything else has been.

We're greeted at the entrance by an employee who takes note of our group and guides us inside the striking building.

It's enormous and makes me feel small and inconsequential in the best possible way.

Our guide tells us we have a bathroom break and Rachelle and I are thrilled to find toilets with seats, and the ability to flush the paper.

Add in safe water to wash our hands with and I'm in heaven.

"It's like the Four Seasons around here," Rachelle gushes from the stall next to me. "I think we should do a bathroom break again on the way out, just to not waste the chance. "

I laugh as I hear the toilet flush. "We're getting spoiled here."

We wash up and Rachelle drinks a handful of water from the sink tap just because she can.

Her antics and joy over this little oasis boost my spirits, and we're all smiles when we exit the bathroom.

Cesar and Holt are waiting for us at the back of the group and we join up with them, commenting on the amazing bathroom and making them both laugh.

Rachelle's blonde hair is in braids and she jokingly shakes them like helicopter blades as she demonstrates her joy over the simple things of life.

The tour guide walks us through the monastery portion of the church and tells us about the Franciscan monks that have called this place home for literal centuries. I can't begin to wrap my mind around the history here, all the lives lived, the memories these walls carry.

Then we're taken down to the catacombs where the ceiling is low and the spaces are small.

I feel like Indiana Jones. Brave and proud of myself.

I don't really like tight spaces; add in death and bones, and it's a recipe for hyperventilating.

But today I feel intrigued and calm. Until I stub my toe on a missing paver, fly forward into the back of a stranger, and then in my haste throw myself backward to get off him and crash-land into Holt.

His hands immediately come to my waist, and then one arm wraps around my stomach as my back fully presses along his chest.

"Whoa," he says as the breath leaves his body.

The man I crashed into turns to look at me and I apologize quickly.

He nods, forgiving, and I sigh in relief.

Holt's hand squeezes at my hip and I realize that cozy warmth I'm feeling is his forearm wrapped around me.

My cheeks heat as I feel his breath on my neck and the firmness of his body holding me up.

I gasp and stand up, pulling away, but he's slow to let me go and I have to fight a little to get out of his hold .

"Sorry," I say over my shoulder as I tug my shirt and jacket back into place. "And thanks."

"Any time," he replies easily, like it's just another day for a hero like him.

Rachelle giggles from her place behind him. "Easy does it Chloe. This seems like a bad place to twist an ankle."

"Yeah, they'll put me down and bury me on the spot," I mutter.

Suddenly the catacombs feel a little unsafe.

The walls are closer than I realized, and the headspace is nonexistent.

The only light comes from flickering battery-operated candles, and I can't really see or hear the tour guide up ahead.

Where is he? Did we take a wrong turn? Why are my ears buzzing like I'm hearing from under water?

My mouth is dry as I keep walking, taking in stacks of bones piled in old graves.

I imagine people carrying the dead down here and it makes my skin crawl.

This is no longer cool or interesting, this is death.

I shiver and hug my arms to myself, looking down at my feet to avoid more bones and skulls as we move through the dark chambers.

My stomach feels queasy and my palms begin to sweat.

"Someone could really get lost down here," Rachelle calls cheerily. "This would be a cool place to spend Halloween."

Holt chuckles. "This would have been a great place to take a teenage date. She'd have been clinging all night long."

"I'll cling to Cesar," Rachelle teases, and I hear Cesar laugh, which I figure means she's wrapped her arms around his and is pretending to be frightened.

I can't even fake joining in. The air in my lungs is tight and I have to pull hard to get enough. My throat is thick with the musty air.

"It was an honor to be buried here," Cesar says, growing serious. "It's what all the people wanted. "

"They wanted to be buried underground?" Rachelle asks.

Cesar explains in more detail to Holt who translates. "They wanted to be buried under the church. They believed only those buried here would go to heaven."

"I'd rather risk hell," I mutter, wheezing slightly as I wrap my arms tightly around my stomach.

"Chlo?" Holt asks, coming up right behind me. "You okay?"

I turn and gaze up at him, struggling to keep from freaking out. "I need you to get me out." My eyelids are sweaty. Is that possible?

His expression immediately grows serious and he looks around for a quick escape. I watch his feet as he speaks to our tour guide in Spanish while I feel like I'm being buried alive myself.

"Oh, honey," Rachelle sympathizes, coming close and rubbing at my arm. "Why didn't you tell us you're claustrophobic?"

"I was okay for a while," I reply softly.

Holt's there again, taking my hand in his, prying it away from my body, and leading me along.

He tells Rachelle and Cesar to go on with the group and then we're going the wrong direction, causing fellow tourists to have to step to the side, but I'm so relieved to be leaving that I hold Holt's hand tightly and keep my head down, not bothering to apologize.

My breathing quickens and in my head it seems to take an hour to get out, but in the real world it's less than five minutes before we're climbing up the same stone steps we came down and stepping out into a chamber with an impossibly high ceiling and beautiful woodwork.

Holt turns to face me and tugs at my hand to pull me into an embrace that I sink into.

I'll hate myself for it later, but for now I soak up his cedar-scented solidness.

He did what I asked, he got me out. I'm safe .

I work to slow my breathing as I stand in a fuzzy state, my thoughts lazily telling me that this moment is my version of heaven.

My cheek rests against Holt's neck and his chin is pressed against my temple as he firmly strokes comforting circles on my back.

Forget being buried down there, just give me Holt's warm arms. Why had I been nervous about hugging him the other night? This is perfection.

His breathing is slow and I match mine to his until I feel better, centered – and then my eyes pop open. Oh no. This isn't a good idea.

I don't want to offend my new truce buddy, so I slowly pull away and reach up an unsteady hand to comb back a lock of my hair that's tickling at my forehead. He releases me without complaint and I manage to smile up at him.

"Well, that was interesting," I say sheepishly. "I'm so sorry you had to miss the rest of the tour."

He waves a hand before pushing it into his pocket. "If you've seen one catacomb, you've seen them all." His smile is crooked and charming.

"Uh, where are we meeting everyone else?" I ask.

"Do you remember where the bathrooms were? Off that center courtyard?"

"I think so. Follow me?" I need to get moving again before I feel awkward about all of this.

I start walking before he has a chance to respond, but I swear I hear him say always under his breath before he tails me out of the beautiful old building.