Page 6 of The Risks of Reuniting (Love Connections #1)
Chloe
I am totally, one-hundred percent freaking out right now.
Holt Alvarez is sitting in the seat in front of me, looking as delicious as always, and my brain has completely malfunctioned.
I'm trying so hard to process what has happened.
How did I start this day waking up in my condo in Holladay, Utah and end it riding through the traffic of Lima, Peru in a beat-up van with him and his cedar-scented body wash floating back at me?
I doubt my body wash smells like anything at this point.
I'm pretty sure I nerve-sweated it off in the Salt Lake airport, and the rest fizzled under the load of seeing him for the first time since last July.
It's May now. Nearly a year. And yet, time collapsed somehow, and if I close my eyes I can believe that we're simply off on an adventure together, still as close as ever, him reading my mind and me laughing at his antics.
I must be dead. It's the only explanation. We're all ghosts and this is the bus to the underworld, where I will be tortured by having to see my lost love every single day for the rest of my existence.
The soft tones of Holt humming along to the music pull me out of my spiraling.
I'm surprised to hear seventies American music playing out of the speakers.
Dancing Queen. Of course he'd be humming this one.
It's practically a rite of passage as a college student to play this song at all the parties and dance around until your hair is sweaty and you've left all your stresses behind.
The windows of the van are down, and traffic doesn't really move even though we're on a freeway.
I watch as cars make five lanes out of the painted three, and drivers seem to find pockets to merge into that I'd never have even noticed.
It's a wild dance, and I find the lack of logic somehow fascinating rather than infuriating.
How are they not crashing into each other?
Why is no one shouting out their window?
It's insanity in motion, but everyone is totally chill with it.
I pull in a deep breath through my nose and push it slowly out my lips. I can be chill with this insanity.
Holt turns his head to look at me over his shoulder. Our eyes meet, but I shift mine back out the window to watch the cars. Holt always did seem to know when I was feeling things, and never failed to check on me. How could he care enough to do that, and then leave me?
Another deep breath. The van lurches forward and we're moving now. It might only be thirty miles an hour, but it's something, and I lean back in my seat. Another mile closer to our destination, another mile closer to getting out of close contact with the man who still makes my heart ache terribly.
The driver says something in Spanish, and I think I understand a few of the words, but I'm mostly lost until Holt translates for me and Rachelle.
"He says we'll be there in about an hour."
"An hour?" Rachelle questions. "But the GPS says it's only about twenty miles from here."
I can hear the smile in Holt's voice as he responds kindly. "Welcome to Lima. Where everything is very close, but very time-consuming to get there. A city founded in the 1500s that is now the home to over ten million. The streets were never prepared for this."
1500s? That's over five hundred years ago. Boggles the mind, considering Salt Lake wasn't founded until the mid 1800s and that feels old sometimes.
Holt looks over at his shoulder again. "Kind of hard to wrap your mind around, huh?" he says.
I bite my lip and nod. "Yeah."
His smile reaches his eyes. He's so excited to be here.
He'd always wanted me to visit with him, but I always pushed him off thanks to my no-fly policy.
It's hard to be here now, seeing how much he clearly loves it, and wishing I could have stepped up and joined him when I'd had the chance.
Holt's optimistic view of life had always made everything look more beautiful. I've missed that.
Rachelle, in the seat next to him, shrugs and looks back down at her phone. She's tall and blonde, and has a classy air about her. I'm curious about her background and reasons for being here, what her life is like. It gives me something to focus on for a few minutes, imagining her back story.
Holt starts humming again, and I have a sudden need to tell someone what is happening, so I pick up my phone and cross my fingers.
I'd read that my cell service provider did have coverage in Peru, but that I shouldn't expect it to do consistently well – especially outside of city limits.
The humanitarian center is on the edge of the city, and I didn't want to spend extra for an international plan, so I took the risk hoping I'd be alright.
Luckily my phone shows full bars seeing as we're in the middle of it all, and I text my best friend and roommate, Allie.
We've been friends since meeting in the dental hygiene program at the University of Utah, and we both landed jobs at Cedar Creek Dental in Sugarhouse.
Which means Allie knows Holt, and our history, and our downfall, and all the ways it broke me.
In fact, she's my roommate because of my breakup with Holt – but that's not a story I want to dwell on.
Holt is here. On this trip. Sitting in front of me in the shuttle to the humanitarian center. I am not ok.
Salt Lake is currently an hour behind Lima, so I know she's awake and I hope she's not too busy to answer my text. I'm beyond happy when she responds quickly.
Allie
What the actual heck are you talking about? How?????
Because the universe is a cranky old woman with too much time on her hands?
Allie
Agreed. Although she can sometimes be a benevolent goddess.
To you, yes, she is. To me she's rude.
Allie
Today she chose rudeness. I have so many questions.
Me too. Like why, and what now, and why, and how will I make it a month being around him, and WHY??! !
Allie
So, you what, just got on this shuttle and, boom, there he was?
He walked up to me at the gate in the Atlanta airport. I think my brain glitched. I don't remember much about that conversation.
Allie
Understandable
And then he was on the plane with me. Then we walked to the shuttle together. And now he's sitting in front of me, smelling and looking so good, and it's mean.
Allie
The meanest
He looks good, Al.
He's still so nice too
Allie
Jerk
I'm not over him, but he hurt me so badly
Allie
I know, sweetie. I'm so sorry this is happening.
What do I do ?
Allie
You trust yourself to figure it out.
Or – just a thought – I ignore it.
Allie
That's the fear talking.
Fear makes some good points.
Allie
Tell fear she's off the clock this go-round. She will only make things worse.
Love you.
Allie
Love you too, bestie. Text me any time for moral support. I'm also willing to send bad ju-ju across the universe if needed.
Thanks!
I tuck my phone away and lean my head back against the seat rest. From what I can tell, we've maybe moved a mile.
Holt is still humming, and now it's some song from the BeeGees.
I tune him out and force my facial muscles to relax, followed by my neck, and then shoulders, until I've worked my way down to my toes.
When my eyelids grow heavy, I let them close, welcoming the reprieve.
I slept very little last night thanks to nerves, and my body is exhausted from every single inch of this day.
A warm hand against my shoulder pulls me from a deep sleep and I slowly open my eyes to see Holt looking into mine.
His hand cupping my shoulder is warm and gentle as he lightly squeezes.
His lips are tilted up in a smile, and before I can gather my thoughts, I'm returning the look out of memory.
His eyes warm further at the sight of my soft smile.
"Hey sleepyhead. We're here," he says in a whisper.
I blink and sit up straight, slightly shifting until his hand drops away. "Oh," I manage, as I look around. "Okay."
Holt slides out of the van and I gather my bag from the seat next to me.
It takes me a minute to get my bearings, but the van door is open and people are gathered around in welcome.
Holt offers me a hand as I go to step down, but I ignore it and hop out to join the circle.
There's a sprinkling of English, but mostly all I can hear is Spanish coming at me from all sides.
It's dark, and I can make out little more than a handful of small buildings and a dirt-packed yard.
I can tell we're on a hillside, and there aren't many lights coming from outside this walled area.
Dogs are barking in the distance. It's overwhelming and I shrug into my backpack while I do my best to come fully awake.
From my research and interview, I know the humanitarian center isn't a big place.
With Carlos and his wife Lara running it, they keep it small to be manageable and effective.
They have a three-pronged approach – health, housing, and humane issues.
Three volunteer dental workers and two volunteer medical workers make up the health prong.
Four men handle housing – two local and two volunteers.
There are three volunteer social workers who go to the dwellings to assess the needs and let them know what services the Center offers.
They also handle some counseling issues as needed.
With the addition of two-person local cook staff and one local maintenance worker, the small compound is filled.
I'm excited to be a part of it, even if I'm still reeling a little.
Rachelle looks to me and points off to the side. "I think they're saying that you and I are over there," she says. "That's where the dental clinic is and we have a room off the back. "
I nod. "All right."