What Happens in Berlin Read online

  Finally, she let me change out of the dress and back into my jeans and T-shirt. Johan and Eileen had a quick conversation in German, and then Johan offered me his arm. “Shall we?”

  I didn’t touch him. “What about the dress?”

  “She says you will come back for another fitting just before the wedding.”

  I forced a smile at Eileen as we walked out of the shop, but once we were outside, I studied Johan. “Why are you here?”

  “I told you last night, Joelle, I would like to get to know you.”

  “Well, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  Behind his glasses, his dark eyes pleaded. “Please. I would like the chance to correct your first impression of me. Besides,” his lips curved up into a slow smile, “no one knows Berlin better than I do. Let me show you my city.”

  I shook my head. “No, thanks. I’ve got a guidebook; I’ll be fine on my own.” I dug through my bag, but my fingers only found my wallet. Damn. Hazily, I remembered pulling the guidebook out at breakfast and reading it while I sipped my third cup of coffee. I looked up at the unfamiliar street. I hadn’t really been paying attention to the route the S-Bahn took to get us to the dress shop, and I bit my lip.

  Finally, I turned to Johan. “Okay. You can show me Berlin, but that doesn’t mean anything. I’m only going with you because it will make Petra happy.”

  Johan smiled. “It will make me happy, as well.”

  I glared at him. “That’s not the point.”

  He just laughed. “Come, Joelle, and meet Berlin.”

  Chapter Eight

  “What would you like to see first?” Johan had his hands in his coat pocket, and he looked totally at ease.

  I shrugged. “I thought you said you had a plan.”

  He just laughed. “Of course! But it is polite to ask.”

  “You don’t seem that polite to me,” I muttered under my breath, but the look he gave me told me he’d heard me.

  “I am sorry for the misunderstanding at the train station. You must give me a second chance.”

  Feeling cranky, I shot back, “I don’t have to do anything.”

  “For Petra’s sake, then.”

  I paused. He had a point; Petra had been growing on me, and she’d said Johan was like a brother to her. I sucked in my breath. “Why are you two so close, anyway?”

  Johan’s face closed off. “I have lived with Petra and my uncle for a few years.”

  “Are your parents . . . ?”

  He shook his head. “We don’t get along,” was all he said.

  I fell silent, thinking about my own family. Sure, they drove me crazy sometimes, but I honestly couldn’t imagine ever being angry enough to move out and live with a cousin. “I’m sorry.”

  Johan shrugged. “It does not bear discussion. What I would really like to talk about,” he glanced shyly at me and smiled, “is what to show you first.”

  I gave him a small smile. “I don’t know. It’s not like we have to do it all today; my family will be here until the wedding, so we’ve got plenty of time.”

  “What have you already seen?”

  “I went walking yesterday, and I saw the Brandenburg Gate. But that’s really all.”

  Johan shook his head. “That’s an awful thing to see first. Come,” he said, and reached for my hand. “It’s time you meet the real Berlin.”

  I let him tow me back to the S-Bahn, but then I dropped his hand. Johan didn’t seem to mind; he leaned against a pole in the middle of the crammed tram and kept gesturing out the window as we passed buildings and people. Once or twice he touched my shoulder, but he pulled his hand away fast, and I was glad. I didn’t want to have to yell at him; he was Petra’s cousin, after all, and he seemed like he was trying to be nice. Still, I didn’t want him to get the wrong idea about me, so even in the cramped train, I tried to keep my distance. Even though I’d dated a few guys in high school, I’d been more attracted to girls ever since I started college. But other than Mandy at work, it had been a long time since anyone of either sex made my heart beat fast, and Johan definitely wasn’t doing it for me. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to be friendly.

  We rushed along beside the river, and I smiled at the sight of a little girl sitting on the top of the bridge, dangling her feet over the water. The sun broke across the water like diamonds, and the entire city seemed cheerful and ready for anything. I lost myself in the motion of the train and the heady sensation of being somewhere totally new and unknown. Finally, Johan tapped my shoulder and motioned to the doors, and we departed the train in a surge of people.

  He grabbed for my hand again, but I twisted out of his grasp. “Follow me!”

  We rounded the corner of a large brick building, and I shivered in the shadows. “Where are we going?”

  Johan smiled and pointed across the cobblestone street. A small, nondescript sign that said TEA SHOP hung over a green painted door, and I raised an eyebrow at Johan.

  “A tea shop is the ‘real Berlin’?”

  He chuckled. “It’s a start.”

  We darted across the busy street, dodging between cabs and dark cars, and Johan held the door to the tea shop open for me with a smile.

  I slipped past him, but I paused in the doorway. The interior of the tea shop wasn’t like anything I’d been expecting. The walls were painted the same rich green as the street door, but they were trimmed in gilt. Here and there, heavy rugs hung on the walls, reminding me of an antique shop. Instead of tables and chairs, the room was filled with plush cushions and short, squat tables that looked more like TV- dinner trays. I glanced at Johan, unable to hide my smile.

  “The real Berlin is a foreign tea shop?”

  He grinned. “Only the locals know about this place. It’s very much fun.”

  Before I could argue that this felt too much like a date rather than a sightseeing trip, a tall man in a loose white tunic and jeans walked up to us. He smiled and gestured toward the room, leading us to a pile of cushions toward the back. I looked at the other people reclining around the room, and I had to give Johan credit for one thing: none of them had the desperate, deer-in-the-headlights look that I’d come to associate with tourists. Maybe this was a local hangout, after all.

  Awkwardly, I sank down onto the cushions the smiling man indicated, and Johan sat cross-legged across from me. In rapid German, he ordered something, gesturing to me while he was speaking. The man nodded and disappeared behind a curtain at the back of the tea room.

  “What did you order?”

  Johan smiled. “Wait and see.”

  I looked around the elaborate room. “This is a pretty cool place.”

  He nodded. “My friends and I like to come here on the weekends. This is the first time I’ve brought a beautiful girl, though.”

  I flushed at the compliment. “Yeah, whatever.”

  Johan leaned across the small table. “You are very beautiful, Joelle. I meant what I said earlier; when I saw you the first time, I wanted the chance to know you better, and poof, like magic, you are going to be the sister of my cousin.”

  I looked at Johan, studying him carefully. He was cute enough, I guessed, but I hadn’t felt any butterflies since I’d met him. I was trying to figure out how to tell him that when the waiter reappeared, lugging a large, elaborate thing that looked sort of like a genie bottle.

  He set it down on the floor between Johan and me, bowed, and disappeared again.

  “What’s that?”

  “It’s a shisha pipe.” Johan reached for what appeared to be a nozzle on a slender hose and pulled it toward himself. “For smoking,” he clarified when he saw the confused look on my face.

  I glanced around the room nervously. “What are you smoking?” I lowered my voice, afraid of drawing attention to our conversation in case it was something illegal.

  Johan laughed. “Try it. It’s perfectly harmless, Joelle. Much safer than cigarettes, and tastier, too.”

  Hesitantly, I took the nozzle from him. It sort of rem
inded me of the caterpillar in Alice in Wonderland, and I glanced at Johan skeptically. “You’re sure it’s legal?”

  He laughed. “Would they serve it in public if it weren’t?”

  Good point. “I don’t know. Don’t they do stuff like that over here?”

  “You are thinking of Amsterdam, not Berlin. Try it; I promise it is safe.”

  I smiled when he mentioned Amsterdam, remembering the short day I’d spent there with Sarah before we’d moved on. Pulling the pipe toward my face, I decided I might as well try it. The whole thing felt a bit surreal, but I brought the nozzle to my lips and inhaled gently. A tingly flavor, like apples and pepper, filled my mouth, and I took another breath as the waiter reappeared, this time carrying a tray filled with a tiny teakettle and two cups. He vanished wordlessly again, and I took another puff.

  Johan was watching me expectantly. “Well?”

  I nodded, exhaling slowly, wishing I could blow smoke rings. “It is better than cigarettes.”

  He laughed. “Now you have to try the tea. The flavors works best together.”

  ~

  We spent an hour at the tea shop, drinking and smoking, and when Johan settled the bill, I was feeling warm and a bit fuzzy. “Are you sure that wasn’t some crazy drug?”

  Johan chuckled as we headed into the street. “I’m sure. Are you ready for another adventure?”

  I hesitated. The shadows had deepened since we came into the tea shop. “It’s getting sort of late. I should probably get back to see my family.”

  He looked disappointed, but he nodded. “There is so much else in the city I want you to see, but I understand.”

  I reached out and squeezed his elbow, surprising us both. “Maybe we can hang out tomorrow?” It was nice to have someone to explore with, even if I wasn’t totally at ease with him.

  He grinned. “I’d love that, Joelle. I will meet you at your hotel in the morning.”

  I told him where we were staying, and he shepherded me back on the tram. “Just not too early, okay? I’m not a morning person.”

  Johan smiled mischievously. “What if I told you that I could promise a day worth waking up for?”

  I eyed him. That sounded fun . . . or romantic. I really didn’t want him to get the wrong idea about us, but I was still hazy from the smoke, and I didn’t know what to say. “How early would I have to wake up for this wonderful day?”

  “Nine o’clock would be best.”

  I groaned. “There had better be coffee involved.”

  Johan’s grin stretched wider. “Of course!”

  Chapter Nine

  Mom had already gotten back from cake tasting when I let myself into our suite, and I barely had time to drop my bag before she thrust a napkin in my face.

  “I saved you some. Try it!”

  I grabbed the mashed piece of cake from her and popped it into my mouth, but then I made a face. “Ugh. What is it?”

  “Some kind of streusel cake. Do you like it?”

  “It tastes like cough medicine.”

  Mom smiled triumphantly. “That’s what I said, but Petra loved it.” She shook her head. “She hated the chocolate mousse cake; there’s something wrong with her taste buds.”

  “That’s because—” I bit back the reason just in time, but Mom eyed me curiously.

  “Why?”

  I shrugged. “I wonder if it’s because she smokes.”

  Mom looked surprised. “Does she?”

  I shrugged. “Charlie does, so I guess she might, too.”

  Mom narrowed her eyes. “I need to have a talk with your brother.”

  I shook my head, trying to distract her. “Petra and I found a dress.”

  “I know. She told me; I can’t wait to see you in it!” She raised an eyebrow suggestively. “And Petra also told me about your date.”

  “It wasn’t a date.”

  “A handsome young man asked to show you around Berlin. I’d call that a date, Joey.”

  I exhaled sharply. “Well, I wouldn’t. He’s Petra’s cousin; I’m just being nice.”

  “What did you two do?”

  I shrugged. “He took me to a little tea shop. It was cool; kind of funky, but he said it’s where the locals go.” I didn’t tell her about the water pipe; if she was mad about Charlie smoking, I had no idea what she’d say if I told her how I’d spent my afternoon.

  She smiled suggestively. “Sounds like a date to me!”

  “Mom! Hardly.”

  She shrugged. “You never know what will happen.”

  I hesitated. “I don’t want anything to happen.”

  Mom tugged my hand and pulled me over to the pair of wing-back chairs under the window. “How long has it been since you dated anyone, JoJo?”

  Where had that come from? “I don’t know. A while, I guess.”

  “I’m worried about you, sweetie. Sometimes, I think that living at home is holding you back.”

  No, what’s holding me back is I can’t figure out a way to tell you and Pops that I’m bi. I stared out the window at the narrow courtyard garden below. “I’m only living at home until I figure out what I want to do. It’s not permanent.”

  She sighed. “I know. But I don’t want to stop you from living your life. College is an exciting time, Joey. You should experience it fully.”

  I shrugged. “I’m thinking about transferring soon.”

  “Are you embarrassed to bring boys home?”

  I looked at her, startled. “What? Mom, come on.”

  She smiled weakly. “I just want you to know that our house is always open to any of your friends; I don’t want you feeling like you can’t date just because you live with your parents.”

  “What if I told you I hadn’t met anyone worth dating?”

  Mom shook her head. “I don’t believe it. Between work and school, you must be meeting plenty of people.”

  “Not really.”

  “Well,” she hesitated. “I want you to be happy. Maybe you should see what happens with Johan.”

  “Mom!”

  She smiled apologetically. “He’s a charming young man, and I just think you should keep your options open.”

  Not likely. I wasn’t ready to have this conversation with Mom, so I shrugged noncommittally and dropped it.

  ~

  Pops pounded on my door way too early the next morning, and I pulled a pillow off the top of my head. “What?”

  He cracked the door open. “Johan is here.”

  I sat up as if I’d been electrocuted. “What? Already?”

  Pops nodded at the sunlight peeking around the curtains. “It’s after nine, JoJo.”

  “Shit.” I scrambled out of bed, too frazzled to care that I’d just cursed in front of my dad. He shut the door, and I threw on the first shirt I pulled out of my backpack. It was a ratty green T-shirt, but I didn’t have time to try harder. I zipped up my jeans, pulled my hair back into a messy bun at the nape of my neck, and ran into the bathroom that separated my room from my parents’. Dark circles stood out under my eyes, but I didn’t have time to mess with makeup. Besides, I thought as I brushed my teeth, maybe Johan will get the idea if I don’t primp for him.

  When I was halfway presentable, I ran back into my room, shoved my guidebook and phone into my bag, and slipped on a pair of cute ballet flats. In a rush, I opened the door and stepped into the suite.

  Johan was sitting on the sofa, talking animatedly about something with Pops. He smiled when he saw me, and stood up immediately.

  “It’s good to see you, Joelle.”

  I muttered something unintelligible in reply, and Pops shot me a dark look. I forced a smile. “Good morning.”

  Johan checked his watch. “We should just have time for an espresso if we hurry.”

  I groaned. He’d showed up at an ungodly hour, and he hadn’t brought the caffeine with him? Hadn’t he been listening yesterday?

  “Have fun, JoJo.” Pops gave my shoulders a gentle squeeze. I grunted, following Johan out of t
he room and down the hotel stairs.

  He had the decency to keep his mouth shut until we were out on the street, but then he smirked at me. “You are quite the sleeping beauty. Watching your father wake you was like watching one try to raise the dead.”

  I glared at him. “You said there’d be coffee.”

  He laughed. “I did. We need to hurry, though.”

  “What’s the rush?”

  Instead of hitting the café chain where I’d met Petra, we rounded the corner and Johan led the way to a little hole-in-the-wall coffee counter, ordering in rapid-fire German what I could only assume were two extra-large shots of espresso. He didn’t answer my question until I’d slugged back the thick black liquid.

  “The parade starts soon, and I want to make sure we get the perfect place to watch.”

  I looked at him. “Parade? Like, some hokey thing with floats and flags? This is what you dragged me out of bed for?”

  Johan chuckled. “Trust me.”

  He led me across the street to a set of stairs descending under the sidewalk, but I hung back. “Where are we going?”

  “We have to take the U to get there.”

  “Let me guess, the underground?”

  He nodded. “It’s faster than walking. Is that okay?”

  I didn’t mind riding the tram above the city, but something about going into the guts of Berlin sort of freaked me out. I wasn’t about to let Johan know that, though, so I followed him down the stairs. “Lead on.”

  Johan swiped his pass card on the turnstile twice, and we pushed into the tunnel. It was cold, and more than a little creepy; the fluorescent lighting above the tracks flickered sporadically, and the roar of the oncoming train sounded like a monster. I grabbed Johan’s arm and leaned toward him, shouting to be heard over the train. “Where’s the parade?”

  “Blücherplatz.”

  “Excuse me?”

  He laughed and tucked my hand around his arm. “You’ll see!”

  ~

  When we emerged into the sunlight, Johan swore softly. “It’s already started. We’ll have a hard time finding a spot in this crowd.”

  I stared around at the crush of people, amazed. There were a ton of kids my own age, as well as families with small children and older people. The crowd was an insane mix of tourists with maps and cameras and hipster guys like Johan, looking around comfortably like locals. I turned to him to ask a question, but he’d disappeared into the crowd.