This Is the Wonder Page 2

  He shrugs. “You looked uncomfortable and there’s a language barrier. That could have gone on for a while. I thought you might want an easy out.”

  I nod as I smile at him. “I did, yeah. Thanks again.”

  I give him a small wave and start walking faster, outstepping him.

  “Hey, wait.”

  I turn to face him and part of me jolts. Lord, his eyes are blue. That color should be illegal. “Yeah?”

  “Was he right? You’re separated from your friends?”

  “Yeah, we got separated about an hour ago. This was the next place we were going so I thought I’d find them here, but I don’t see them.”

  “So what are you going to do? Do you have a meeting place set up?”

  I shake my head, feeling dumb that in a crowded situation like this we don’t have that kind of a plan. I didn’t even think of it before but it sure as hell makes sense now.

  “Why don’t you come sit with us?” he suggests, gesturing to a table farther down the aisle.

  I glance to where he’s pointing and see three other guys with military haircuts sitting at a table and watching us. It’s another pack of similar-looking guys, not too unlike the Italians I just escaped from, but they’re American boys. I can handle American boys. There’s no language or social barriers to be confused by. This is the devil I know.

  “It’s probably better to stay in one place,” he says, seeing me waver undecidedly. “Especially somewhere that you all planned on going eventually.”

  “What if they do the same thing? Sit down, have a beer, and wait for me to show?”

  He grins, his lips pulling up higher on one side than the other. It’s crooked and adorable. “Then you don’t find each other, but at least you’re not alone.”

  I glance at his friends and mistakenly take another look at him. The guy is handsome in a comfortable kind of way. Like your older brother’s best friend; he’s been around forever but one day his good looks and sweet nature sneak up on you and BAM!, you’re a goner. Plus, the military thing does it for me and I find myself nodding in agreement and following him to his table.

  “This is Haskins, Sanchez, and Birchart,” American Pie tells me, pointing to each of his boys. Sanchez is the whitest white boy I’ve ever seen and I wonder if there’s a joke there I’m not getting. “Guys, this is—I don’t know your name.”

  “Wren,” I supply.

  “Rent?” Birchart, a stocky guy with the greatest eyelashes I’ve ever seen, asks.

  “No, Wren. Like the bird.”

  “That’s different,” American Pie says.

  I shrug. “My mom likes birds. I have a sister named Robin and we have a dog named Sparrow.”

  “Themed names kill me,” Sanchez groans. He looks at me apologetically. “No offense.”

  “None taken. Try having one. Trust me, it doesn’t make you love it more.”

  “So, Wren,” American Pie says, touching my arm again, “I was headed to get a drink before swooping in and saving the day. You want one?”

  I look around at what everyone is drinking and shake my head. “Everything is in cups. I’ll just go with you and get one myself.”

  When I look at him I realize I basically just told him I’m afraid he’s going to roofie me, which I am, but I shouldn’t have said it. Not out loud. Luckily he doesn’t look offended. He just smirks at me.

  “That was the idea. You coming with me.”

  “Sorry, yeah, it’s not that I don’t—” But it is: I don’t trust him. I don’t know him. I don’t even know his name.

  Not needing more explanation, he gestures for me to come with him. I fall into step beside him, noticing that we’re taking a long route that goes around my Italians.

  “You introduced me to your friends but I never got your name,” I tell him.

  “Right, sorry. It’s Jax. Kind of.”

  “Kind of?”

  “It’s not my actual name.”

  I eye him shrewdly. “It’s weird to tell me that you’re giving me a fake name.”

  He chuckles. “It’s what everyone calls me. It’s just not my real name. My last name is Jackson. In the military almost everyone goes by their last name. People shortened it and started calling me Jax.”

  “So what’s your real name?”

  He looks at me sideways. “Kenneth. Ken.”

  “Jax is good.”

  His responding laugh gives me goose bumps.

  “What branch of the military are you in?” I ask, stepping up to stand in line next to him. It’s crowded and I have to stand close to him, shoulder to shoulder. I notice either he or one of the twenty other guys milling around smells faintly fantastic.

  “Air Force.”

  I’m jostled from behind and I stumble a half step forward. It’s nothing outside the hazards of being in a crowded area, but Jax takes a step slightly behind me, his body now half shielding me from the people behind us. If we’re crowded by them again, he’ll take the brunt of it. It’s a subtle gesture, like when a guy offers you his jacket or moves to the street side of the sidewalk when walking beside you, leaving you more protected. It’s an old form of gentleman that feminists find insulting but I see as sweet. Yeah, of course I can open a door for myself and I’m not gonna hate on a guy if he doesn’t do it for me, but I will give him bonus points if he does. I’m doing my part to be a lady, not running around flashing my goods like it’s Mardi Gras and beads are the cure for cancer, so I don’t see the harm in appreciating a guy who still knows how to act like a gentleman.

  “Did you come to Germany for Oktoberfest or are you traveling around?” he asks, his new closer stance putting his mouth right beside my ear, his breath tickling my hair across the lobe.

  “School, actually. I came to do a semester abroad.”

  “Oh yeah? Where?”

  “Heidelberg. Just south of Frankfurt.”

  “I’m at Ramstein. It’s not far from Frankfurt.”

  “We’re probably pretty close to each other.”

  He’s bumped from behind, his body and scent cascading into me.

  It’s him, I think definitively. He smells faintly fantastic.

  I try to breathe the scent in deeply without looking like a freak.

  “How long will you be here?” he asks me.

  “Uh, four months. You?”

  “Two years.”

  “Whoa.”

  “Yeah. It’s a long stretch.” He puts his hand on the small of my back to lead me forward in the line a little. “I’ve been here a year already so it’s really just another year to go.”

  “Do you like it?”

  “It’s a nice country,” he replies indifferently.

  “Say it like you mean it.”

  “I’m being diplomatic.” He smirks, ushering me forward again. “We’re up. If you let me buy your drink, I promise not to touch it—with my hands or my illicit drugs.”

  “I didn’t mean to imply you’re a creeper.”

  He waves me away, pulling several euro from his wallet and signaling for two beers. “Don’t apologize for being careful.”

  I grin at him. “I never said I was sorry.”

  “I guess you didn’t,” he agrees with a chuckle. He hands me my beer: frothy, golden, and beautiful. “So can this creeper ask what you’re studying?”

  “Business.”

  “International business?”

  I nod my head, taking a sip of the beer and weaving back past the crowded line with him. “Yep.”

  “Does the school in Heidelberg have a good program? Is that why you came here?”

  “No, I came to Germany to get away. To see something new.”

  To hide from the future.

  I push the heavy thought down, smiling lightly to blanket it. “I’m going to college in my hometown, the same town I was raised in my entire life. It’s a great school and I love it, but I had to get out at least once, you know?”

  “Yeah, definitely. You don’t want to live and die in the same
fifty-mile radius.”

  “Yes! Thank you. Not everyone gets that. Is that why you joined the Air Force? For a ticket out?”

  “Nah. I joined the Air Force to serve my country.”

  I’m a little floored by that—by the blunt honesty of it. The simple nobility.

  “So you’re a lifer then?” I ask curiously. “This is it for you, this is the career?”

  He flinches slightly, the look disappearing as quickly as it came. “Kind of. I’ll do my twenty, retire, then go civilian. What are you going to do with your degree in business?”

  “No idea,” I admit, trying not to flinch myself. “I’m having a hard time figuring that out lately.”

  “Forever isn’t an easy choice to make.”

  “You made it.”

  “I guess.”

  The flinch is gone from his face but I can still feel it in the air around him. I think it’s tied to this topic. To the future. It’s a relief to know I’m not the only one with baggage in that department.

  He turns to me, about to say something, but he stops when he catches me looking at him. I’m embarrassed he caught me staring but I don’t look away. Instead I smile easily, something about his eyes on mine making me sigh and settle inside.

  His mouth quirks into that crooked grin. “You have a great smile.”

  “That is an old, tired line.”

  “Maybe the line isn’t tired. Maybe your smile is classic.”

  I laugh at how cheesy that sounds, but then if it’s cheesy why am I blushing? And why am I still smiling my classic smile at him?

  We’ve made it back to his band of brothers and he offers me his seat, the only vacant one for miles. The boy actually pushes my chair in for me as I sit down, and then moves to the other side of the table to stand across from me, behind Sanchez. I have to admit, I’m liking the view.

  I’m hearing an awkward story about a German girl trying to get all up on Birchart at a bar, laughing at his terrible understanding of the German language, and making copious amounts of smiling, flirting eye contact with Jax, when I hear it.

  My shame.

  “I am the Rally Queen!!!”

  I close my eyes and breathe out slowly. When I open them again, Jax is smiling at me.

  “Someone you know?” he chuckles.

  “Have they seen me yet? Is it too late to pretend I don’t know them?”

  “Wren! We found you!” Mel screams.

  Jax gives me a pitying look. “It’s too late.”

  I swear under my breath as I turn to face my humiliation. Red-faced and disheveled, Mel and Ben come running down the aisle toward me.

  “What happened to you?” Ben asks, his voice about ten decibels too high.

  “Um, I went pee and you ditched me,” I remind him incredulously. “That’s what happened.”

  “We got turned around,” Mel explains breathlessly. “We saw this adorable T-shirt—”

  “She saw an ‘adorable’ T-shirt,” Ben corrects.

  “And we had to go get it.”

  I look at her empty hands. “Where is it?”

  “Oh, I didn’t buy it. It was stupid.”

  “I thought it was adorable and you just had to go get it.”

  “Me too!” she says, getting excited. “I thought it was adorable too. Should I go back and get it?”

  “No, you shouldn’t. You should slow down a little.”

  “No, no, no. We have to go to the rides now. It’s ride time!” she screams in my face.

  “Wow,” someone behind me mutters.

  “Okay, guys, yes,” I tell Ben and Mel, looking them both in the eyes for as long as they’re able. “Let’s go do the rides, but let’s stick together, okay? No more ditching Wren. Got it?”

  “You got it! I was so worried when we lost you,” Mel says, becoming instantly solemn. She pulls me into a crushing embrace that nearly topples us both back onto the table behind me. “What if someone killed you?”

  “That’s cheery, thank you. I’m fine, though, so let’s go do the rides, okay?”

  “Ride time!” she cries, letting me go abruptly to jump up and down.

  I turn to face American Pie and the gang, feeling a pang of regret. I’d really rather stay here, hear the end of Birchart’s failed romance, and smile at Jax than leave, but drunk, loud hos before bros, so I grimace and wave goodbye.

  “Thanks, guys. It was nice meeting you all.” I look at Jax, memorizing the round blue eyes that will haunt my dreams for the next month. “And thanks, Jax, for saving me before.”

  He raises his beer in a sort of salute. “Happy to help. Maybe we’ll see you around?”

  I feel a spike of adrenalin at the thought. “I’ll be at the rides, apparently, so…”

  I don’t have an ending to that sentence so it falls awkwardly between us on the table. All of his buddies are looking down at it with amused faces.

  “Wren!” Ben calls, the Drunken Duo already leaving the tent and me behind.

  “Bye,” I say, waving one last time and running after them.

  This is a huge place, ridiculously so, and I know he’ll never find me. Even if he looks—which I doubt he will—the chances are slim. So I look over my shoulder, catching a glimpse of him one last time, and I find him watching me go.

  “Bye-bye, American Pie,” I sing to myself, casting him one last smile.

  Chapter Three

  The sun sets, the lights come on, and Mel pukes after the second ride. This is not a surprise. Ben is sweet about it, rubbing his hand over her back as she hunches miserably over a trash can. I wonder for a moment if I had him pegged wrong as a horny player of the highest order, or maybe he’s just really driven. He might be one of those guys that knows you gotta put in the time to do the crime. Whatever his motives, I leave him babysitting her while I go in search of water or a Sprite—something to help calm her stomach.

  When I get back, they’re gone.

  “Of course,” I mutter to myself, annoyed as hell. Mostly at myself for being so stupid.

  I start my search, knowing they can’t have gone far. There’s another beer tent nearby, but I doubt Ben would have taken her there. Even as drunk as he is, he knows alcohol is not what she needs right now. Not if she’s going to rise to fighting form and finish out the night. There are bathrooms not far off, and I assume that’s my best bet so I start to cruise the line looking for them. I don’t see them in the women’s so I give the men’s a shot, figuring it’s somehow more acceptable for a woman to go in a men’s room than vice versa. Plus, these are Germans: they shit on each other for sexy fun time, so I doubt a girl in the crapper is a deal breaker for them.

  “Wren?”

  I hear my name called at a reasonable volume so I know it’s not my wayward children, but I do know that voice. And when I turn to look at him, I’m immediately pulled in by those blue, blue eyes.

  “Jax, hey,” I say with an oversized smile that I simply cannot help.

  I also can’t believe we’re bumping into each other again. This sort of thing is fate, right?

  “Are you alone again?” he asks, frowning as he searches the crowd around me.

  “I can’t seem to keep them in one place. Mel threw up and Ben stayed with her while I went looking for a soda for her. When I got back, they were gone.”

  “It’s not your night, is it?”

  I smile at him and shrug. “It’s not so bad.”

  He smiles as well, that crooked grin that throws me off balance.

  The door to the restroom bursts open as Ben and Mel come tumbling out. I have the brief but horrifying thought that they were doing it in there, but everyone’s clothes look to be properly in place.

  “Mel,” I call, waving. “Over here!”

  What happens next is inexplicable. Hilarious, yes, and a story I will use to embarrass her for the rest of her days, but still it defies explanation. Mel sees Jax before she sees me. Some part of her alcohol-addled brain must remember him from before because she runs straight for h
im. The music on the outdoor speakers changed as the sun went down and it’s no longer quaint, folksy music. Now it’s dance techno pop. Mel, apparently liking the beats, wastes no time turning around and grinding her ass in Jax’s crotch. Like a girl on a pole with daddy issues, she just goes at it. It is brief, yet furious. Jax immediately puts his hands up in the air like he’s surrendering to the cops after a botched bank heist, his face confused and worried.

  “Mel!” I scold.

  “Wren!” She focuses on my face, leaving Jax’s junk alone and running to me. “I feel sooooo much better.”

  “Good. Here,” I tell her, handing her the Sprite I scored. “Drink this. All of it, even the ice cubes.”

  “Especially the ice cubes,” Jax says, still looking a little stunned.

  I grimace at him. “Sorry about that.”

  “No problem. It’s not exactly the worst thing that can happen to a guy.”

  “No emotional scarring?”

  “Not as much as when the tranny did it.”

  I chuckle, disbelieving. “That did not happen to you.”

  “It did, actually. I’m something of a tranny magnet.”

  “It’s your eyes.”

  “My eyes?”

  I nod. “You have beautiful eyes.”

  He chuckles. “Now that is an old, tired line.”

  “I want to go on more rides. Wren, can I go on more rides now?” Mel pleads, pulling at my arm.

  I roll my eyes. “Mel, I’m not your mother. You can do what you want.”

  “But I want you to go on a ride with me. Pretty please?” She bats her lashes at me dramatically, her eyes looking more focused than earlier. She’s still obnoxiously drunk, but it looks to be passing.

  I glance quickly at Jax, then back at Mel. I’m not thrilled about walking away from this guy again.

  “What ride are you going on?” he asks Mel.

  “Ferris Wheel.”

  “Probably a long line. Longer than what I’ve got left here.” He meets my eyes. “Mind if I meet you there?”

  I’m instantly bursting with butterflies. “You want to ride the Ferris wheel?”

  “Yeah, why not?”

  “What about your friends?” I scan the line up and down but don’t see anyone familiar. Also, why am I trying to talk him out of this?