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He put me back on my feet.
“Let’s go.”
I couldn’t wait to get out of this cabin. Emilio during trivia night and in his bed was wildly different from Emilio when I had interrupted him in his secret cabin.
I went to the lift. I saw that it was pretty much empty.
“Hello,” he said to the operator, who obviously knew him well. I shouldn’t ask for help here. I needed to wait until we got back to Quito.
We got into one of the cable cars, and I wrapped my arms around myself as I went to sit in the furthest corner of the car. I stared out the window.
It was a lot scarier to do it while I was descending. The ride up had been fun, but it felt like we were in a plane that was slow-motion crashing into Quito.
I covered my eyes with my hands.
“Are you okay?”
I looked at him, trying to focus on his face and not the scenery moving around our little cable car.
“I’m acrophobic.”
“You felt comfortable walking into my cabin unannounced, but looking out the window terrifies you?”
“It does when we’re so high up,” I squeaked.
“You can look, you know. We’re not going to crash. If you have trouble handling this, what are you like on airplanes?”
“Airplanes are different. If we fall, we’ll pretty much die instantly. If we fall from here, we might survive or die in terrible pain.”
He shook his head. “You’re something else.” He chuckled softly.
I kept my hands over my eyes during the entire ride down to Quito.
Packing at the Hostel
Emilio
We grabbed a taxi that was idling near the exit of the TeleferiQo.
“Did you enjoy yourselves?” the driver asked idly.
“Yes,” Naelle said. She had her arms crossed as she stared out the window again. Apparently, now that we were on solid ground, she obviously felt a lot better. She was incredibly brazen sometimes, so it was a little shocking that she was so afraid of heights — or that someone who was acrophobic would decide to go on a ride up to the highest part of Quito.
“Where are we heading?” I asked Naelle.
“The Backpackers Inn,” she told the driver.
Then we were flying down the mountain, and she was covering her eyes again.
I closed my eyes, too, but not in fear. My mind was ticking things off a list. As soon as we took her things from the hostel, we’d get on my jet and head straight for America. I kept a packed suitcase at the hangar. The crew knew to put it in the jet when I used it.
Then we’d go to the United States, and I would check her out discreetly — as her boyfriend.
Nobody would need to know. I was sure that I could talk her into a simple arrangement: she would be free in America, I could check her out. If she was being truthful, I’d let her go, no harm done.
If she wasn’t, then it would be a different story.
It didn’t take long for the taxi driver to get us to The Backpackers Inn. I paid the amount that showed up on the meter and got out with her.
