Page 31 of Interning For A Billionaire

“It’s a buzz cut, I felt like a change. Do you like it?”

“Yeah!” I said, but I was lying, of course. Without his hair, his prominent nose and protruding ears were much more noticeable.

“Show me this city of yours!” He said, grabbing my hand and excitedly walking out of the airport. While we waited for a taxi, he grabbed me again and kissed me.

“I’ve missed you so much!”

It was good to see him, it really was. I was so happy to see someone from home and all that went with it. I smiled and hugged him. “It’s good to have you here,” I said.

We checked into our hotel in the heart of the city and both of us tried not to be too disappointed by the musty floral décor and the stains in the carpet.

“It was very affordable,” I said apologetically.

“And well situated,” he agreed.

“Let’s go walk around,” I said, and we happily left our room to go check out the city. Then we got a cab to the Waterfront and looked for a seafood restaurant. We ordered wine and he told me all the news from home. How his father got on his nerves at the shop and his mother was secretly smoking in the garden. He told me his sister Mindy had gotten a job in Texas and his parents were distraught at the thought of her moving away.

“How is my father?”

Sven looked down. “He wanted me to tell you he’s doing great,” he said. “But, I can’t lie to you. He misses you.”

I didn’t want to hear that. “And Aunt Kate?”

“You know her, she keeps busy. She sells that organic honey at the farmer’s market on Sundays.”

“She still looks after the hives at Jean’s place?”

“Old Jean isn’t well. She’s not exactly leaving the house anymore.”

My Aunt Kate was the town carer, looking after old people who couldn’t leave their homes or had no money for retirement homes. She looked in on the sick and helped the elderly. She wasn’t paid, it was more of a volunteer service.

Then he asked about my job, and I couldn’t stop talking about the work I’d been doing and how much I liked it. Our food arrived and we drank some more, telling stories and laughing about people we had in common. Some friends from high school had opened a coffee shop in the nearest city and Sven tried to pop in at least once a week to support them. He said every time he’d been there, something had gone wrong. One time, the coffee machine was broken, another time a wire had tripped, and they were without power. But despite their bad luck, the place was really nice and cozy, he said, and seemed to be a hit with locals.

At the end of the evening, we made our way back to the hotel.

Both of us had drunk too much and we barely made it to the hotel when Sven told me he wasn’t feeling well. I suspected the clams and red wine he’d had for dinner had not mixed well. For a country boy used to burgers and chips, I had a feeling the cuisine had been a little exotic. He ran for the bathroom and spent the next few hours, throwing up and running for the toilet.

“I’m so sorry,” he gasped in between bathroom visits. “This is hardly the romantic weekend I’d had in mind.”

“That’s okay,” I said, and it was. I couldn’t tell him that I was relieved there wouldn’t be any sex any time soon.

“I was so looking forward to our time together,” he said, reaching for me just as another spasm of nausea hit him.

“Please, it’s fine.”

It wasn’t just the hair. Or the way he’d dressed. Or the way he talked about home like it was the best place in the world. It was all of those things, and then some. I would always be fond of Sven, but he didn’t send my pulse racing the way Michael Greer did.

I immediately banished the thought of Naked Guy from my mind.

We fell asleep but early in the morning, I woke up to find Sven lying next to me, stroking my face.

“You feeling better?” I asked.

“Much better,” he said, leaning in to kiss me.

I was relieved to find that he’d brushed his teeth, but I still thought I could detect a whiff of the night before about him.

“What it is?” he asked, noticing my reticence.

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