“You’re freezing,” he points out. As he pulls off his cozy sweater, his t-shirt rides up and I spot the delicious dark line below his navel. Desire rushes through me, and I tell myself to stop being so pathetic. Right now. Although, in my defense, I can’t even remember the last time I had sex. Probably a few days before Valentine’s Day. I mentally do the calculations in my head. I haven’t been laid in over two months!
“What’s wrong?” Eli asks. “You look like you’re in pain. Really, it’s no problem,” he says as he hands me his sweater — it’s so soft. The goosebumps on my arms are cheering, “Yay! Yay! Sweater!!”
“Thank you.”
He pulls his jacket back over his t-shirt, and meanwhile, I take mine off and slip into the sweater — it feels like heaven. I pull my jacket on again, and then wrap myself in the throw — it’s quite the production.
He studies me again, a huge grin on his face.
“You think I’m funny, don’t you?”
“Yes, very much.”
We almost share a moment then, but the server breaks the spell. “Hello, how are you today?” Her slight Danish accent instantly makes her interesting. She’s blonde, perky and pretty, but Eli doesn’t seem to notice. She’s quick to take our order; a pork sandwich for Eli, and a small potato omelet for me.
We chat about my flight. I tell him about the crying baby and the couple sitting next to me. And he talks about beds; apparently he has a room all ready for me. I think it’s cute how he pretends we’re not going to sleep together — he’s the perfect gentleman. When our food arrives, I dig in — it’s delicious. I people watch as I enjoy my omelet.
The woman next to us sits alone and is engrossed in a book. She’s finished her burger, or possibly a sandwich. Small remnants of bread and lettuce dot her plate. She’s still picking at her potato wedges. They actually look pretty good.
Eli leans into me quietly with a playful mischievous expression, and my mind instantly goes there — maybe he wants to play footsies under the table. “You dare me to steal one of her potato wedges?”
I look over at the middle-aged woman who is still completely engrossed in the story she’s reading. “What?!”
“Watch me,” he says. He digs into his small shopping bag, and pulls out the fork. He tears off the price tag and wipes the fork with a napkin. I watch him intently, not believing my eyes. He pulls at the end of the fork and extends it — suddenly, it’s over two feet long. I stifle a laugh, not believing he’s actually going to go through with it.
He smiles at me as he slowly inches the fork over toward her plate, ever so slowly. I want to laugh so badly but I know that if I do, I’ll blow his cover. The woman is completely oblivious. He quietly digs the prongs of the fork into one of the wedges. I’m watching intently, and my pulse is racing. He slowly pulls the fork back. He’s pretty good at this — I wonder if he’s done this before.
Finally, he pops it in his mouth and chews.
“Is it any good?” I ask in a whisper.
“Delicious,” he replies. “You want one?”
Before I can object, he’s at it again. This time, he moves a little faster, and a second or two later, he presents me with a potato wedge. I open my mouth, and he sets it carefully between my teeth. It’s actually kind of sexy — I’m never ever going to look at potato wedges the same way again.
It’s pretty tasty, a little spicy. “Mmmmm,” I mumble, and then I lose it, and burst out laughing.
He laughs too, and the woman turns to us, a brow cocked, probably wondering what in the heavens is wrong with us. We quiet down and after a beat, she reaches for a potato wedge and turns back to her book.
“You’re a weirdo,” I say.
He grins. “So are you.”
After lunch, we rent bicycles, and go cycling around the city. Our bikes are retro-like. His is red, and mine is robin’s egg blue. I have a basket and a bell I like to ring as much as I can. Eli turns to me and smiles every time I do. I wear a safety helmet, but not many people do. I suck in the crisp air, and mentally check off an item on my bucket list:Ride a bike in Copenhagen. I’ve always wanted to do this, even before I ever met Eli, either in Copenhagen or Amsterdam. It’s apparently the thing to do.
As we nip through the tourists and traffic, I try to focus, but I can’t help doing a rundown of my bucket list in my head.
Nyhavn (check)
Eat a good meal at a quaint little bistro (check)
Ride a bike (check)
See the Little Mermaid statue
Ride a boat on the canal
Queen’s Winter Palace
