Page 17 of Winter Glam in Amsterdam

“What are you doing here?”

"You know, just having a walk," my dad says casually. “What are you all looking at?”

I shake my head, eyes wide with embarrassment as they come to a stop next to me to look at the brothel.

“My, they really can move,” Mom says, astonished while Dad lets out a low whistle.

God. Can the ground just open up now? I would be good with hell; it can only be better than standing here with my parents and listening to them talk about half naked women.

The two of them try to hide their grins, but they’re not very successful.

"Come on, Summer. Have a walk through the Red Light District—with your dear old parents." My mom’s grin widens, and she links her arm with mine to pull me along.

Why? Just why did I agree to Lily and come here?

Summer

I greedily inhale the cold winter air as I step out of the hotel and come to a stand. Because if there's one thing I've learned in this city, it's that you don't walk out of a building without making damn sure no bike is going to run into you.

The number of times I've heard people on bikes cursing out tourists or really any person who dared step in their way is remarkable and I don't want to become part of that statistic. I'd also like to keep all of my bones intact, thank you very much.

It's late afternoon already. I'd spent the day walking through the city and just getting a feel for it, keeping away from most tourist spots… Well, I’ve tried to. It's amazing how close everything is in this city. There is no escaping the tourist spots, but once you leave this inner circle of the city, it calms down and reveals so many hidden gems.

I've seen palaces that predate my whole country and houses I've heard about in history lessons. Each step I take in this city holds such an amount of history, my brain can’t comprehend the gravity. How many people have walked these streets before?

I think I'd spent around 10 minutes standing in front of the Anne Frank House, just staring at it, not daring to go in, a heavy presence settling on my shoulders for the remainder of my walk. There's just something about seeing historic places that makes it more real—the kind of reality that can be hard to stomach.

She lived in there. This very real place. When the world was a cruel place, something a child should never be subjected to. My heart hurts for this girl.

In an attempt to distract myself from the heavy emotions, and because my stomach was growling at that point, I went to a café I had in my recommended feed for days at this point. It was supposed to have crazy good croissants, but when I got there, it was to find a queue stretching down a block, so instead, I walked right past it. There are things I would get in such a queue for, but croissants are definitely not one of those things.

So instead, I found another cute café, had some cake, and returned to the hotel for a quick midday nap. Then, I spent two hours in front of my laptop sending out applications. I mean who knows, maybe my dream job is getting posted today and I’m missing it. So I just had to take my laptop along, knowing full well Luca would scold me if he knew I am still applying to jobs on this vacation.

And I get it. I'm here to take my mind off the draining application process, to take a break from all the rejections and the bleakness that is my life. Yet what my brother dearest tends to forget is that life still goes on.

And the fact is, I’m still receiving rejection e-mails, although I’m letting them pile up in my inbox unread. I still need a job.

Well, Iwanta job. And it's not going to fall into my lap the way his do, with his manager and—I don't know how many other people—managing his schedule, getting him into castings, calling him drivers, doing the negotiating and all that stuff for him.

And now I’m here. With a free afternoon ahead, all to myself.

So, taking another deep breath, I start walking, right alongside one of the canals. Boats filled with tourists are passing by, bikers race past me, cursing under their breath about people’s very existence, and small cars drive about. God, I could never drive, much less park here. I’d absolutely drown any car if I tried to park alongside the water.

A houseboat though? I could see that. Although I’d seriously be worried about my privacy, because I could not deal with nosy people who, much like me, try to catch a peek at their interiors.

Finally, I go back to the main street leading away from Amsterdam’s main train station, leading right up to the palace. It has everything a tourist site desires: souvenir shops, cafés, stroopwafels—which I'm very determined to try out while I'mhere, but the queues always put me off—so many restaurants and kiosks with overpriced food.

But that's not where I'm planning to go. No, earlier I had walked past something else I wanted to take a closer look at.

"Where are you going?"

My whole body tenses involuntarily as goosebumps rise on my neck, my heart beating into my throat.

"Holy shit!" I startle and turn around at the sound of that deep voice that sends shockwaves right through me. Goddamnit, shouldn’t I get used to it at some point?

"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you." He chuckles and takes the remaining steps to come to a stop right next to me. "Where are you going?"

"I've decided to spend my afternoon in an educational corner of Amsterdam," I try to sound sophisticated as I continue to walk to my destination, biting my lip to keep from grinning.

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