chapter 12

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Thank the Lord for tequila.

All the awkwardness had vanished, and they were running along the boardwalk. Hysterical laughter over nothing had them pausing every ten feet or so. They’d downed two baskets of chips and guacamole with their margaritas. Salt and lime still clung to Olive’s lips and fingers. Her legs felt better than they had all day, the alcohol dulling the edge of the pain. Stella had grabbed her hand to guide her toward another pavilion. Stella’s fingers were gentle. They fit perfectly around Olive’s.

“We have to stop here,” Stella said.

“Japan?”

“Yes. For the mochi bonbons.”

“Mochi?”

“It’s Japanese ice cream, and it’s delicious.”

“Okay.”

Stella ordered two and handed one to Olive. She bit into it. Cold, creamy, and not exactly what she expected texture-wise. But delicious. She ate it too fast, and then dug her thumb and index finger into the center of her forehead, which felt like it had been stabbed by an ice pick.

“Brain freeze?” Stella asked.

“Yup.”

“Ouch. That always happens to me too.” She gave Olive a pitying look. They finished their dessert and tossed the wrapping in the trash. “Let’s run to France.”

“I’d let you take me anywhere, Stella.”

It was the tequila. The tequila said that.

Stella smirked. “But not on a plane?”

“Maybe you could convince me.”

“Let me show you my favorite macarons here. Maybe then you’ll want to go to real France.” She grabbed Olive by the hips, veering her over to the lake side of the boardwalk.

Olive ended up facing her, with Stella’s back to the railing.

Stella pointed. “Sorry, I didn’t want you to get nailed by another stroller. A big parade of them were coming past.”

“I appreciate that.” Heat rose in Olive’s chest as it had on the monorail. Stella’s hand hadn’t moved from her hip. It would be so easy to lean forward. Just an inch at first.

Olive could ask if she could kiss her again.

Stella said yes once.

But as soon as the thought formed in Olive’s mind, the enticing pressure of Stella’s hand was gone. Stella was moving again. She power walked into a narrow gap in the crowd.

“Where do you want to go in Italy, Olive?”

“I’m assuming you mean real Italy and not Epcot Italy.”

Stella snorted and nodded.

Olive quickened her pace to keep up. “Well, if they invent Star Trek–style teleportation … probably Florence and the Amalfi coast. Rome. All over, really.”

“Have you tried antianxiety medication?”

Olive laughed. “I brought a pill on the airplane last night, and I was so nervous, the pill fell out of my hand before I could take it. But yeah, I’m going to try that for the flight back.”

“I hope that works. Italy is amazing.” The billowing fabric of Stella’s top swept across Olive’s arm. Goose bumps rose in its wake.

“Where is your favorite place you’ve traveled?”

“Last year I went to the Cañón del Sumidero in Mexico with my cousins, which is like the Grand Canyon of Mexico. Super amazing. Other than that, probably Paris or New Zealand.”

Fly with Me: a novel by Andie BurkeWhere stories live. Discover now