The Bucket List

Amsterdam 02

6.43am,
July 27th, 2013
Amsterdam Centraal,
Stationsplein, 1012 AB.

She snaps out of her early morning daydream.

"Excuse me," she says, anger suddenly bubbling in her chest. "You don't know me. So stop judging me."

The man, on his way to the main entrance, stops in his tracks and turns to face her. A taunting smirk on his pale lips.

"Oh, but I do," is all he says before sauntering out of the bus station.

Elise stares at the man's disappearing figure, her mouth agape yet again.

How dare he?!, she thinks to herself, fuming. She quickly picks up her luggage, the smaller one on top and sprints out of the station.

Well, as fast as her stiletto would allow. And the twenty-three kilos of luggage. For some reason, this guy pisses her off.

As soon as she gets pass through the main entrance, she spots the rude guy just finishing up tucking his backpack into the boot of a cab.

She marches up to him, stiletto and luggage, and pulls his arm just as he is about to enter the cab.

"What do you mean?" she demands. "Do you really know me or was that something jerks would say?"

The guy regards her. His blue eyes, bored, look her up and down. Calculating. He opens his mouth and says the last thing a jerk should say.

"Share a taxi with me."

Elise's jaw drops. What did he say now?

"Bloody hell, woman. Get into the taxi. You're wasting my time and my money. You do realize the meter is running, right? " the guy snaps, getting out of the cab and grabs her luggage.

She didn't let them go, though. "I didn't agree to get into your cab!" she spats.

"Fiesty," the guy comments. "I like that." He wrenches the two luggage out of her grip, asks the cabbie to open the boot and stows them in, all the while not breaking eye contact with her.

She just couldn't believe him. Fear suddenly grips at her heart. What if this guy is a rapist? Or a murderer?? Or both?!

"If I had wanted to murder you, I would have just whacked you on the head with your own luggage. Thing weighs a tonne!" he exclaims. "And I don't want to rape you, either. Frankly, love you are not my type. Now get in," he gestures to the cab.

I really need to work on my pokerface, she sighs inwardly.

Half of her, the rational half, is screaming bloody murder at her to just punch the guy in the throat and run away. Her other half, the curious half, is wondering why the hell does this guy want to share a cab with her.

She stares at him thoughtfully, finally deciding to go against her rational half. She is on a spontaneous adventure. And besides, it's nice to have someone to have conversations with. In English, of course. God knows her Dutch is verschrikkelijk.

As soon as the cab pulls out of the station, the guy turns to her and silently observes her, his arms crossed.

She stares back at him, silently challenging him. Alas, she lost. His stare is just too piercing. She breaks their eye contact and turn her attention to the scenery flying pass outside the cab.

"Why are you alone?" the guy suddenly asks." Pretty girls like you shouldn't be traveling alone. Especially in foreign countries."

"That's none of your business," she snaps, not even caring to look at him.

"That attitude is going the be the death of you someday," he comments nonchalantly, stretching his long legs. "I hope I would be there when that day comes."

"I beg your pardon?!" she demands, her voice rising to a higher octave.

He looks at her in this extremely annoying way that she just didn't know how to describe but it made her feel like breaking his face into pieces. His lips curve at the edges into a half-smirk and his eyes are dancing with mirth.

"If you must know, you had two people following you. One of them had a knife, concealed in his arm sleeves. You should be thanking me," he says, glancing at her. Waiting for her reaction.

"I.. I don't understand," she mumbles. Her eyebrows scrunches and she starts to chew on her bottom lip. "Why would they follow me?"

The guy shrugs. "Could be drug cartels. Human traffickers. Anything. You can't exactly trust anyone nowadays."

Elise stares at the stranger. "I'm trusting you and I'm sitting in a cab with you!" she exclaims. "Are you saying that I shouldn't have trusted you?"

He chuckles, for some reason her panic amuses him. "Elliot," he suddenly says, holding out a handshake. "Of Salisbury, England, " he adds.

"Elise," she replies, after a moment of hesitation." Of New Jersey, United States."

He grins. "E and E. That would look very pretty on a wedding card," he says cheekily.

Elise could feel the blood rushing to her chubby cheeks. " I admire your forwardness but your name will only be on my wedding card when the Grim Reaper is standing over me," she huffs, before turning her back on him.

Elliot rolls his eyes and checks his watch. He leans over to the cabbie and says, "De Taart van m'n Tante, alsjeblieft."

The cabbie nods and Elliot leans back into the seat, pulling out his mobile phone out of his jeans' pocket and switches it on, checking for messages.

"What did you just say to him?" Elise asks, there is panic in her voice. " Where are you taking me? Tell me!" she insists, her huge brown eyes imploring him.

He rolls his eyes again in annoyance. "It's breakfast time." She continues to stare at him. He sighs in exasperation. " I just told him to take us - actually, me - to a restaurant whose name literally translates to My Aunt's Cake."

"Oh, okay," she relaxes instantly. "I'm rather hungry, too. " Elise hugs her handbag tightly to her chest, imagining warm pancakes with lots and lots of whipped cream and hot chocolate.

"I have to say, you are either very brave or very stupid traveling to another country without knowing even the basics of its language,". Elliot remarks, shaking his head in disbelief. "And I believe I didn't invite you for breakfast."

"Oh, shut up." Elise is too far gone in her food fantasy to care.

~°~°~°~°~

verschrikkelijk - terrible