Page 43 of Winter Glam in Amsterdam

The guys are still sitting at the table when we get down to the lobby, joined by their girlfriends and all of them looking at Summer and me with wide eyes and mouth agape when we walk past them. I give them a little wave for good measure.

"They're going to think I'm some kind of miracle worker," I quip as we walk through the lobby in quick strides, Summer clearly eager to catch fresh air.

A weight falls off my shoulders when I realize she’s actually eager to get out. For a moment there, I was getting worried she just said that placate me.

God knows it's been a depressing few days for her, so I'm glad she seems to be doing alright, all things considered.

"Why?" She looks adorably confused as she glances up at me, eyebrows creased and cheeks turning red from the cold.

"Because I got you to leave your room."

"Really?" she asks sceptically, her eyebrows wandering up her forehead. "I mean, they never even asked me to go outside. They just came over, crowding my room, thinking they'd need to keep me company." A deep sigh falls from her lips. "Which is lovely, and I'm thankful. But they're touching me with kid's gloves, like I'm made out of glass." She grimaces. "And I can't deal with that."

"Can't? Or you won't allow yourself to be vulnerable?" I try to sound nonchalant but gauge her reaction from the corner of my eyes.

Her breath hitches at that suggestion, but she takes a moment to roll it over in her head. And really, that’s more than I expected after she said she’d deal with everything at home.

"Maybe you should've become a shrink instead of a voice actor." Her smile doesn’t seem honest as she shakes her head.

"Maybe." I shrug. “But am I wrong?”

She shoots me a quick glare. "Whatever it is, it's not a topic for here."

"Trust me, you don't want to push it off forever," I point out.

The street lanterns turn on as we round the corner to walk along our canal.

"Adam made us all see a therapist after our parents died. I know I didn't see much of a reason for it back then, thinking ultimately I'd deal with it somehow." I reach for her arm and pull her closer to me as I hear the grating noise of a bike ringing for us to get the fuck out of their way, accompanied by what I assume are Dutch curse words.

"I would've pushed it off forever if it weren't for him. And what can I say, it helped."

"I'm glad it did," she says with a nod. "I'll think about it, okay?"

"That's all anyone can ask for," I assure her. She links her arm with mine, and my breath hitches, my shoulders tensing for a moment before I let myself relax.

We walk next to each other silently, watching as boats pass by us on the canal and people rushing to their destinations.

Another biker trying to get past us makes her let go of my arm and the two of us step aside, and once we resume our walk, Ifeel her hand reaching for mine, letting her lace her fingers with mine.

I look away and bite my lip to stop my face-splitting grin. Her hand might be cold, but it feels perfect in mine. Like it belongs there.

"You know what I also find fascinating about Amsterdam?" she asks softly, and when I turn my head to look at her, it's to meet her eyes glistening with amusement.

"The fact that nobody here seems to own curtains." She nods to a building on the other side of the water, where a woman is holding her cat like a baby, pacing her window and pressing kisses to her pet’s head.

"My, my." I chuckle and give her hand a squeeze. "Who knew you had a voyeuristic streak?"

"I'd call it general curiosity," she retorts with a shrug, then pulls me to a bench only a few metres away.

"You're going to make a show out of it?" I lift my eyebrow at her, but she shakes her head with a smile playing at her lips. "Good. Because that would be more like stalker territory, don’t you think?"

She giggles and sits down, pulling me along with her.

"You know, I've been thinking," I say after a while, glancing down at her.

"Uh-oh." Her voice is barely audible over the soft splash of waves hitting the canal walls, but her answer still makes me grin. “Sorry. Jokes aside now. Thinking about what?”

"Thinking about how I'd really like to kiss you again," I admit.

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