Page 8 of Four Times Taken

"Leave a like on this video and subscribe to see where I go next! Woo!" I said when I spotted a woman in the background rolling up on a scooter, mimicking me with a 'Woo!' of her own. Grinning, I turned the camera off before calling to her. "Hey! Where can I rent one of those?"

She paused and spun around, coming to a stop ahead. "Me?" she asked with her thumb toward her chest. When I confirmed, she came over and told me in her Italian accent where to go before asking me if I'm from America. She rolled next to me as we talked about traveling and how she visited America once on a girl's trip.

With my camera and other equipment tucked away in my backpack, I rolled alongside her on her way to meet up with friends. I still had a few hours to kill before meeting up with Ryan, Ethan, and Matt. They're the first set of friends I got to 'keep.' That sounds weird, like I'm some obsessed psycho collecting friends. I guess it's not that far off. Sometimes I get jittery at the thought of losing them.

My luck changed when I turned eighteen and was allowed my independence. My parents gave me some money to get started, and I found freedom for the first time. For the first few months, I lived at my aunt's beach house just because I could. I had memories of the place and always wanted to revisit it. She was more than happy to have me, and she was always off on her own adventures, anyway, so I could stay there rent-free for a bit. It allowed me to save the money I had, and it was pretty sweet knowing I didn't have to worry about leaving unless I wanted to.

It's where I learned to surf for the first time as a kid and later taught surfing while earning a few bucks. Life was sweet. While it was nice to stay in one place for as long as I wanted, I'd been traveling the world since I could walk and talk. The traveling bug still itched, and when I met Matt, the itch grew persistent.

He and Ryan had come up to me at the beach. Open and willing to try something new, they asked me to teach them how to surf. We all bonded that day. Ryan lived at a faraway beach house with roommates, and he'd just met Matt, who was on a backpacking world adventure. They got along together as if they'd known each other all their lives. Matt was a couple of years older than us, and he was a travel vlogger.

We were both excited to find out that we'd been to the same places, but his experiences were different. Mine involved a lot of Army bases, and he described his journeys with such passion, I wanted to revisit some of the countries on my own terms. But between my surfing income and the money I had saved, I had to leave the past in the past.

When Ryan also expressed how cool it would be to travel the world, Matt blew our minds. He decided he'd sponsor a guys' trip for the first year and suggested we follow in his footsteps and start up a travel vlog. Since Ryan's passion was more along the lines of photography, he set up a website. I took the travel vlog route and soon, we were building an income. We also met Ethan, through Matt, on that trip.

That was eleven years ago, around the time when I'd gotten into my first real romantic relationship with a girl I met in France. It was exciting and fun. For the first time, I had friends I'd do anything for, who taught me the value of a lifelong friendship. Like I held onto them, I held onto her. She joined us on our travels, the audience loved her, and what should've only lasted a year continued for five long years.

We lost ourselves and could no longer determine whether we were still together because we loved each other or because my social media followers loved us together. We took a break, which turned into a breakup. It was like I'd failed or something. It hurt more, not that we lost each other, but that I couldn't keep her with me. I grew paranoid that I'd soon lose my friends as well and withdrew. They stuck with me through it, reassuring me that relationships run their course, and it just wasn't meant to be.

She wasn't my first love. She was my second chance, after Lily. I thought about her every day. Lily, I mean. By the time I'd moved out on my own and started life, I figured one, that she'd hate me for the way I left, and two, she'd probably moved on.

I still think about her. I try not to.

Every time I saw someone with long, dark hair, wearing all black, I wondered if it's her. I thought about telling her about my adventures, inviting her along. I'm doing it again. The wind swept through my long, sun-bleached hair and my button-down shirt fluttered as I took in the sight of towering buildings of beauty, looking down at me like a speck of dust. That would take my mind off her and put things into perspective. We are but specks of dust, floating around in an all-encompassing universe. Some of us are meant to stick to each other. Some of us are meant to meet and go our separate ways.

Leaving as I did was the right thing to do; it would've been unfair to both of us if I did it any other way, if I confessed my feelings—if I kissed her back. There were no promises I could make when I didn't know what my life would look like week after week. I tried not to fall in love with her, and I failed. At least I didn't string her heart along in the process.

When I stepped into the restaurant with the scooter girl, her friends all looked at me heading toward them like 'who the hell is this guy?' Still, they smiled enough in an attempt to hide their suspicions. Don't ask me why I followed her all the way here. It could be her long, black hair and her thick, dark eyebrows, which reminded me of Lily. That's where the similarities ended. She's a lot louder, friendlier, open, and smiley. Definitely more like Matt and Ryan, maybe even me. I think that's the real reason I followed her here. The best part about traveling isn't the picturesque views I can brag about; it's meeting new people and becoming immersed in the culture.

"I'm Eric," I smiled back, removing my sunglasses and extending my hand in greeting.

She said something to them in Italian before they welcomed me to join them at the table. "So, you're a tourist, eh? Tell me, what do you think about Roma?"

"I think it's beautiful. Everything takes my breath away," I started.

There's a nod of approval, but they still looked at me as if to say, "And?"

Under the heat of their gaze, I took a sip of scooter girl's water. "Thanks for letting me join you. I'm starving. What's good here?" I asked.

Everyone made suggestions. Talking about food is the ultimate icebreaker and soon, the heat passed, and I'm accepted as part of the group. The scooter stranger introduced me to her boyfriend, who relaxed when he realized I'm not interested in her. They all took turns teasing my 'American-ness' and 'beach model look' and by the time the sun went down, my blood became wine, and we're laughing non-stop.

Back at the bar to meet up with the guys, I'm on cloud nine. I'm the first one to arrive. Music is pumping, people are dancing with each other, and I take my ass to the dance floor to join in. Lost in the red flashing lights and the tone of the off-key karaoke singer on the high stage pumping their hand along to the music, I almost crap myself when an arm swings over my shoulders and around my neck.

"Someone's wasted!" Matt's voice has me spinning around with a wide, goofy-ass grin on my face.

"Brother!" I widened my arms and pulled him in for a hug.

"Dude! Whatever you're on, let me have some." He laughed before imitating my dance moves.

"Uh-uh! Pack away those dance moves and never let them see the light of day again." Ryan jumped on our backs.

"What are you talking about? These dance moves are deadly," I said as Matt tried to pop, lock, and drop it.

"Yup." Ryan nodded. "That's the point." His white teeth flashed against his caramel skin.

"Like you can do any better," Matt fired back.

Ryan's eyes flew open, and his mouth dropped. "You did not just challenge me? Because you know I'll blow you out of the water."

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