Moon Tower

43.

this chapter has been edited and updated. enjoy!xx

I went for a run my first morning in Valencia.

I hadn't been on one in a while. After not being allowed to run for four weeks in December, I'd taken to getting my exercise fix in other ways. But after a couple months spent traveling on planes and tour buses, running for a little bit felt almost necessary.

I was careful not to push myself too hard. I was in an area I wasn't familiar with and surrounded by people I didn't know. And while I could communicate easily with people here, I didn't want to put myself in a position where strangers had to haul me off to a doctor.

It was slow going at first, but after a few minutes, it was like I had never stopped. I lost myself in the rhythmic patter of my shoes hitting the pavement, my ponytail whipping around excitedly behind me. I jogged past homes, little cafes, and touristy looking shops. I ran past modern looking buildings, and ones that looked like there was ancient history embedded in the stone. Back home, there was usually a little cloud cover in the morning, even in the summer. But here, the sun was already high in the sky and beating down on my bare shoulders.

The heat is finally what made me come to a stop, my hairline suddenly slick with sweat and my throat feeling dry and scratchy. As I slowed down to a walk, I realized that I had no idea where I was. Turning on my heel, I started going back in the direction I came from. I took this time to look around more, get a better feel for my surroundings and take in what had passed me by in a blur a few minutes ago. Valencia reminded me a little of home, with its vibrant colors and proximity to the beach. But where my hometown of San Clemente was all ranch and mission style homes with terracotta roofs and waves big enough to surf, Valencia was filled with homes stacked on top of one another and waves that couldn't knock you over even if they tried. Valencia also had an atmosphere that was inherently European. I'd traveled outside the United States before, but it had been a while. I forgot how old everything seemed to feel, the sheer amount of history that seemed to linger in the air with all the imposing cathedrals and architecture that screamed old world glory. There was also a... not an uptight atmosphere to Europe, but I was reminded fairly quickly when I first started travelling with Niall that not everyone shared my love of casual conversation. Nobody was mean or rude or anything like that, it was just different.

I took my time trying to find my way back to my cousin's apartment. When I first arrived at Liliana's tiny apartment last night, she took me out to a bar, quickly noting the slight sag to my shoulders and the dark circles under my eyes. She took one look at me and told me to get changed.

"We are going to look hot and make heads turn, and we are going to feel fabulous doing it," she said, opening one of my bags and rifling through it. Wherever I went, I always liked to be prepared for anything, so I packed a little bit of everything. I'm pretty sure there was even a thick jacket squeezed in there somewhere despite it being August.

My cousin tossed articles of clothes at me without turning around, expecting me to catch them. Upon inspection, I saw a pair of jeans and a lace corset top that I bought while I was in Rome. The top, with its dainty pink flowers and slightly puffed sleeves, was unlike anything I owned; but something about it drew me in at the boutique I was in at the time, so I bought it on a whim and hadn't worn it since.

Going out with Liliana was actually quite fun. While I enjoyed spending so much time with Niall, there was just something about having a girl's night that felt different. I put on more makeup than I had in a while, and we spent the night dancing, drinking, and letting go. And when we got to the bar, my perception of people in Europe seemed to change a little bit. We walked in, and everyone seemed to know Liliana. I quickly learned that in this small pocket of Valencia, my cousin was known as the quirky American girl with the strange taste in fashion that taught English to schoolchildren. Her sense of style was definitely different from my own, in her flared plaid pants that were a mix of blue, yellow, and white, a loud graphic shirt, and a funky patterned scarf tied around her neck. It was a little quirky, but everyone at the bar seemed to love her for it, and it was clear that over time she became a fixture of this part of the city.