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doingthedirtydishes · 2 years

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Sweden: To my delight, your fika, lingonberries and balls tickled me bright.

From the time I arrived at Arlanda airport I could already tell it was going to be a great trip. I had been to Sverige once before, many years ago, to see a friend, Jonaton Tillander, graduate from high school. He lived on the West Coast, in a beautiful coastal city, Goteborg. At the time, I was in Danmark visiting friends in Kobenhavn, and boarded the ferry across the Kattegat (Danish: “Cat’s Throat”) strait, forming a link between the Baltic Sea and North Sea. In 1995 they built the Oresund Bridge, attaching Danmark and Sweden. It is the longest combined road and rail bridge in Europe, including a 4 kilometer tunnel, connecting two major metropolitan areas, Kobenhavn, Denmark and Malmo, Sweden.

However, this would be my first time to the spectacular East Coast city of Stockholm. To say I was elated would be to lessen my true excitement. It was always on my bucket list and now it would become a blog entry to inform other travelers. But this time in Sweden would be very different: I would be seeing it as an injured traveler, in a wheelchair. Like any new place one goes while injured, I wondered how they would treat me, the condition of the streets, would I be able to access all or some of the astonishing tourist attractions, could I use public transport, would I be able to enter my hotel room, toilet and shower, and so many other concerns – too long a list to index here. Game-on!

As with any new country I arrive at in a wheelchair, I immediately assessed my transport concerns. The city was a twenty minute drive by taxi or a bit further and complicated if I attempted public transport. As is the case with most European cities but especially Scandinavia, public transportation is reliable, efficient and safe. Trains departed twice an hour from the airport’s Arlanda Central Station, between terminals 4 and 5, dropping you at Stockholm’s Central Station. The train ride is 38 minutes. Coach was also an option, with Flygbussarna buses departing the airport every 10-15 minutes. They also dropped you in city-center at Stockholm’s Central Station. I opted for the easiest option: taxi.

The taxi pulled up to the Generator Hostel, I paid, departed, and was on my way – let the enjoyment begin. As I entered the hostel, a chain throughout Europe (now with one in Miami), I was immediately welcomed by the warm and affable staff at the counter. I knew I had picked the right hotel. A few minutes later they had me sorted out and I was off to my room. The hostel had an elevator to reach the upper floors, lucky me. As is the case with many hotels I book while traveling, there is a process of elimination to find a room that actually is best suited to my injury needs. Not the case with Generator – all was perfect. The door had an automated option, though it was in repair during my visit.

Generator Hostels are my favorite places to stay in Europe. In the past year I have stayed at Dublin, Ireland and Amsterdam, Holland. The staff is friendly and welcoming, always willing to accommodate the injured traveler – they make your stay comfortable. Otherwise from experience, while journeying throughout Europe, I can tell you it can be a nightmare in a wheelchair. For me it is very convenient to have everything I need on a bad day within feet of my hostel door: restaurant for food, bar for drinks, meeting area(s) for friends, handicapped accessible bathroom(s) and general area for shared enjoyment. Stockholm even has a mini ping-pong table. Beat Boris and get a free breakfast. I ate free for a week.

The room had four bunks but I was the only one there at that time. I settled in, unpacked, took a shower and then stole a short nap to recharge my batteries. I had flown to Sweden direct from Iceland, a three hour flight, and so was not very knackered. Usually my first day in a new city I take some time to relax and understand the lay of the land – I’ll look at maps, do some research and plan accordingly. Since it was a hostel with a large shared space for eating and fun, I headed downstairs to the communal lobby/bar/restaurant area. As with most my life, not ten minutes had passed and I was already meeting other world travelers – making new friends. Molly from Canada was the first. Let the good times roll!

Map of the city understood, obligatory first drink with new friends finished, planning aside, it was time to dig in to the local eats. The hostel also had a club attached to it which served as a business meeting venue during the day, replete with a full chef’s menu and all the accoutrements. Word in the hostel halls was the food was extremely tasty, and also well priced. I would not be a true tourist if I did not make my first order Kottbullar (Swedish meatballs), served with lingonberries, mashed potatoes and pickled cucumber slices. The tiny pork and beef meatballs were served in a nutmeg and cardamom flavored gravy, which suited the mashed potatoes just fine. They were mouthwatering. I was in love.

Dreams of meatballs and berries aside, the next morning I awoke to a phone call from a friend from United Kingdom, Lawrence, who had just arrived at the airport, was on a bus and would soon arrive at the hostel. He had flown into Vasteras, an alternate and cheaper airport for flights from Europe, located 100km from Stockholm – so though his flight, return London for 60 quid (pounds), was cheaper – he ended up paying for the inconvenience and time. Being an injured traveler I opt for convenience over cost savings anytime practical and pragmatic; though could be my age too. Sure enough, twenty minutes later there was a knock at my door. It was beer time – Brits would have it no other way on holiday.

That night we did not venture far, deciding to check out Bar Hilma, the club that was a part of the hostel. There I met Tahir from Kashmir, in Scandinavia selling the highest quality Kashmir and Pashmina scarves. Shortly after, Nick from Texas, US joined the group, Ajay from London, England and Monica from Oslo, Norway, moments later. Not long after, abound with a smorgasbord of personalities and stories from all over the globe alike, new life-long relationships were in the process of being formed. To date, I still speak with all the unique people from all parts of the world I met on my trip to Stockholm. The club and hostel catered to my injured needs swimmingly – Stockholm was delivering on her promise: fun for all.

Before departing each others’ company that night, some had agreed to spend the next day together sightseeing the local neighborhood. Being that it would be my first day out-and-about in the city in a wheelchair, it was most welcome to have some of my new friends along with me for the ride. The next morning I had the most appetizing breakfast with Lawrence – scrambled eggs and soft bacon with fresh warm baked bread and newly harvested fruits. I then relaxed and did some reading and journal writing before meeting the others to explore the city. The hostel is centrally located downtown; everything you would want to visit is only a short distance away. All attractions are a close walk, taxi or bus ride.

Over the next few days I spent time with different friends going various places. Everyone had their own interests and, as long as I was able to do so in a wheelchair, and they were willing to have me along, I joined. One sunny afternoon with Nick, Ajay and Lawrence we visited Skansen Island, world’s oldest open-air museum, where there is a small zoo, traditional Scandinavian sod roof homes, windmills, restaurants and historic enactments. After lunch, at a historic hotel, we had drinks at a WWII torpedo factory. The Raksmorgas (prawn sandwich) was delicious. A day spent with Joel, a nurse from France I met at the hostel, in his car to see more of the city and gardens otherwise inaccessible, was splendid.

What one immediately takes notice of, once past the small lip at the entrance of the hostel, is just how friendly the sidewalks of Stockholm are for the injured – blind included. The sidewalks are smooth, with cement ramp entrances and exits wherever a curb could be seen. The streets and walks were orderly, well lit and properly marked, reminiscent of a walk through any IKEA store – buses, trains and their stations, the same. There was ample parking for handicapped persons, almost always located right at the front entrance. Museums throughout the city had reserved parking spots very close to the entrance. Public buildings all had ramps as well. I was overly impressed by the convenience provided for injured.

Stockholm is known as the ‘Venice of the North,’ also commonly referred to as the capital of Scandinavia. It is a city of old buildings and unique design, surrounded by water, dating from 1250s to 1600s – as the city was sparred being leveled by bombs in WWII, with the exception of a few ‘accidental’ Soviet bombs – though some say it was the German or Finnish Air Force intending to provoke the Soviets. The modern city is a lovely mix of old and new, apparent everywhere you looked. There is a lovely waterfront promenade where one can enjoy its famous multi-colored buildings and remarkable architecture, while having a drink or lunch with friends – or simply just taking in the breathtaking vista.

Their museum and art installations are world class. My favorite was Fotografiska centre, filled with contemporary photography, conveniently discovered in the Sodermalm district, with gorgeous views of the Stockholm harbor. Vasa Maritime Museum, located on Djurgarden Island, with its almost fully intact, 64-gun warship, that sank on her maiden voyage in 1628, never making it out of the harbor, was stunning. A city of fine art – a ‘street art’ tour in Ragsved neighborhood, as well their subway stations, is one-of-a-kind – with over 160 street artists’ graffiti showcased – a must see. Stadsbiblioteket, Stockholm Public Library, designed by Gunnar Asplund, is one of the city’s most distinctive structures.

Stockholm, hub of Scandinavia, alive and electric, is also filled with great shopping, endless culture and exciting entertainment and nightlife. The food, not just their fika, the almighty Swedish coffee break, with over 1000 restaurants, located in close-by districts of Norrmalm and Vasastaden, was affordable and most delectable. Ferries are also available to sail you to other exotic locations like Helsinki, Finland or St. Petersburg, Russia. As I mentioned in my book, Unbreakable Mind, life is best lived when Doing The Dirty Dishes, getting out-and-about, traveling the world, experiencing life, living – getting your hands dirty. Stockholm should be on everyone’s bucket list – your fika dishes await – Nu gar vi!

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fics-of-my-mind · 4 years

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Trust - Chapter VIII.

‘Why are you out here? It’s freezing,’ Nick said, burying his hand into his pockets.

‘Couldn’t sleep,’ I shrugged.

‘Why?’ he asked, sounding concerned.

I turned my face towards him, hoping that he’d just do his thing and I didn’t have to explain myself with words. Nick was looking at me softly, yet he was waiting for a real answer.

‘I can’t… Think inside,’ I started, turning back towards the view to the harbor. It was easier than looking at him, though I could feel his gaze on me, just like his body almost touching mine. ‘You’re everywhere,’ I whispered. ‘I just feel like I can’t breathe because being here with you is making me crazy and… so guilty.’

I could feel Nick looking at me for a long moment before running a hand though the back of his hair and chuckling in agony.

‘It’s funny,’ he said after a while, which made me turn towards him. I didn’t find anything funny in our screwed-up situation. ‘Being here with you is actually the only thing that let me take a deep breath for months.’

Warnings: mature content, BDSM content Pairing: Nick Jonas / Other Female Character This fanfiction can also be found on Wattpad by fnntth

I don’t own Nick Jonas or any other recognizable characters. This fanfiction is completely fictional, its only purpose is entertainment.

Chapter VIII. - A promise that never was kept, one of those moments you'll never forget

Nick’s texts are bold

Milla’s texts are italic

When in the beginning of May they started to lift the restrictions, Nick acted instantly.

I’ll be in Stockholm next weekend

meet me

Are you serious?

I couldn’t believe him. I wasn’t even sure if it was possible to travel from my country or his country. Stockholm, Sweden. I’ve heard that they were taking the virus quite lightly there, so I guess Nick did his homework.

yes.

I don’t know…

I wasn’t exactly feeling comfortable already traveling. Not that I was scared of the virus anymore, but they just loosened the restrictions.

And, seriously. Nick wanted to meet me. Nick Jonas. Now that the quarantine seemed to be over for a while, he somehow regained his persona as the world-known popstar, actor, celebrity. Besides, he had a wife.

please

I need to see you

I hit the call button beside his name. We needed to talk about this.

‘This is just crazy, Nick,’ I said instantly as he accepted the call. I didn’t care if he was at a comfortable place to talk, or if he’s had people around him, but I didn’t give a shit. He couldn’t just ask me something like this with no further conversation.

‘No, it’s not,’ he said without thinking. ‘I’m officially going to see some songwriter friends for some collabs.’

‘And won’t it be suspicious if you have no new songs?’

‘No. These writing trips don’t necessarily equal new songs. They are just a good way to be creative, and sometimes great things come out of them,’ he explained.

‘And you want to spend the weekend with me?’ I asked, biting my lip.

‘Yes,’ Nick replied, sounding sure of himself, like he had absolutely no doubts about this idea. ‘Please say that you’ll come.’

I stayed quiet for a while, thinking about our options. I desperately wanted to see Nick. But…

‘If I come,’ I started slowly, trying to put my concerns into words. ‘It will officially make me a home-wrecker.’

Nick contemplated my words before answering.

‘I won’t let that happen,’ he said, sounding sure and committed. ‘I respect you way too much to put you into that situation.’ I can’t describe how much that statement warmed my heart.

‘C’mon, Nick, I’m pretty sure that I’m already the other woman in your marriage,’ I chuckled bitterly. ‘You, me and a weekend in Stockholm won’t exactly help.’

‘I’ve never touched you,’ Nick said, sounding a little bit less sure now. ‘You can’t be the other woman if nothing physical has ever happened between us.’ It was bullshit and we both knew it. Yet, I’ve stayed quiet, listening to his words. He paused, waiting to see if I was going to interrupt him, then continued: ‘I’ll make sure nothing happens in Stockholm either, if you come.’

‘You won’t touch me?’ I asked, half-chuckling. It was impossible to imagine the two of us being in the same room and not touching each other, especially after the night of FaceTime sex.

‘No,’ he said slowly. ‘I promise.’

Maybe it was only because I’ve missed him so much, or because I just wanted to see him. Or perhaps because I was a little crazy. Anyway, ten minutes later I had a plane ticket booked to Stockholm for next Friday.

The week went by sluggishly slowly. I was looking forward of the trip, yet scared shitless of what was going to happen. I was excited and anxious, didn’t know what to expect. I was doubting the decision to buy the plane ticket, not sure that it was the right thing to do in my situation.

It’s not like I could talk to anyone about it. None of my friends knew about what was going on, they had no idea that I was talking to Nick in the first place. I didn’t tell anyone that I was going to be out of the country either, I just told my boss that I need a day of holiday, turning my weekend into a long weekend.

I could feel that Nick was nervous too. He seemed worried that I was going to change my mind, he checked every day – sometimes twice – if we were really going to see each other on Friday. He also kept an eye on the corona situation, briefing me every time about the slight changes.

On Friday morning, I woke up at 5. My plane was leaving at 12 o’clock my time, so I only had to be at the airport by ten, yet I couldn’t sleep. I triple checked if I’ve packed everything, I took my dog to the neighbor for her to look after him, and by the time the clock hit 8:45, I was calling a cab. Normally I didn’t mind spending time at the airport, but I was a little worried about how the COVID situation might change things.

It was all fine, only barely any people were in the waiting terminal of the airport. I looked around in the duty free stores, bought a coffee and a sandwich and by the time boarding started, I was antsy and could barely sit in one place. I surprised even myself, but not once did I think about not boarding the plane and cancelling the whole trip. Nick was worth it, every risk and every worry.

We agreed to only meet up at the hotel Nick has booked for us. He wanted to pick me up at the airport, but I said it was way too risky. We should avoid any risk at being exposed – not that I believed that anyone would care about a nobody like me, but he was Nick Jonas. What he did, mattered to people, they were interested. I had no idea how crazy the fans in Sweden were, but we shouldn’t risk anything.

By the time I was waiting for my luggage at Stockholm Arlanda Airport – by the way, it was my first time in the country -, my stomach was in knots and I felt like I was going to throw up in a minute. I wanted to see Nick so much that it hurt – at the same time I was extremely anxious about this meeting. What if he didn’t like me in person anymore? What if it was all going to be awkward? What if he won’t show up, because he realized he wasn’t interested in me after all?

In the taxi it got even worse. I felt like the driver knew that I was on my way to completely break up a happy marriage. That I was a whore, that I was a homewrecker, the other woman, someone who didn’t give a shit about the sacred institution of marriage. I tried concentrating on the beautiful city around me, but I couldn’t. I was thorn between wanting to do the right thing and wanting to see Nick.

When I arrived at the hotel, the minute I gave the fake name Nick has booked the hotel room to the receptionist, I could feel the judgement coming from her. What kind of woman would be someone that was meeting up with a man in a hotel room? Especially in an exquisite five-star hotel room.

On the way up to the top floor, in the elevator I felt like I needed to scream. I bit my lip so hard, I’m sure the marks of my teeth were deep enough to see, I had my hand in fists and as much as I wanted to appreciate everything around me, as beautiful as they were, I couldn’t. The only things I could concentrate on were Nick and the guilt of being someone that destroys a marriage in a few minutes.

Because, you see, until we only went on a random late-night sightseeing trip and talked on the phone, we weren’t technically doing anything wrong, nothing that I’d even consider worthy of destroying a marriage. What we did was pure fantasizing and talking about our problems, our thoughts. But now, I was only a few steps away from physically entering a hotel room with a man that had a wife back in the US. This was the definition of cheating. Even if we didn’t touch each other during this weekend at all – which I couldn’t really imagine as much as I wanted -, we were a married man and a single woman in a hotel room, in a country where neither of us should’ve been, with no one knowing about our plans to see each other.

It was all wrong. Yet my guilt about being a home-wrecker was nowhere near as big as my desire – need – to see Nick, the boy whose company has gotten me through these past two months, the loneliest time of my life. The boy, whose voice could instantly calm my nerves, who could take my mind off anything, and whom I cared about much more than I ever thought I would care about any man.

Before I touched the keycard to the lock of the door 912, I needed to take some deep breaths. I could do this, couldn’t I? I was able to go in and spend time with Nick, my friend, without doing anything really stupid. I was a smart girt and he was always in control of his actions. We could do this, keep ourselves from committing adultery and just spend some quality time together.

The moment I set foot in the hotel room, I literally forgot how to breath. Nick was standing in front of the huge windows, so I could only see his back. He was wearing a white dress shirt and some black washed jeans, his hair looked a bit unruly, probably a result of running his hands through it so many times. As he heard the door open and close behind me, he immediately turned around, his handsome face full of worry and anticipation. When our gazes connected, it seemed like he was sharing my symptoms of acute respiratory failure.

It all dawned on me at once. All of the feelings, all of the fears and desires and dreams. It was too much, for a person to be feeling all of this at the same time. Sadness, happiness, need, fear, anxiety, longing, guilt, excitement… and many more things that I couldn’t even describe.

I could feel the tears well up in my eyes and I couldn’t decide if they were tears of sadness, happiness or simply just stress. It was like the world stopped for as long as we were staring at each other, not being able to say a word. I never thought something like this was possible, just forgetting how to function because of another person.

I wanted to run into his arms and hug him so close to me, probably never let him go. To kiss him deeply, to touch him, explore his skin in person, to be intimate with him, to show him how much I care. I wanted him to comfort me, to make me forget everything that was happening in the world, to calm me, to be the only thing on my mind. But it wasn’t possible, was it? I couldn’t touch him like I wanted to, I couldn’t be with him in the way I needed to.

And this broke my heart.

‘I… I can’t do this,’ I whispered as a teardrop rolled down on my face. I couldn’t torture myself with spending time with him, when he’d never be mine the way I really wanted him. I couldn’t hold myself back from touching him. I just couldn’t. Two days in this room, with distance between us seemed like a nightmare.

I shook my head and with one last glance at Nick, I turned around. I shouldn’t have come here. It was a mistake.

‘Milla,’ I heard his voice and the sound of his steps, and the moment I slightly opened the door, he pushed it back, closing it. I tensed, feeling him stand way too closely behind my back. I could feel heat radiating off his body. I was holding onto my suitcase with one hand, the other was still on the doorknob. I couldn’t move, Nick completely paralyzed me. ‘Stay,’ he whispered, his lips touching the back of my head.

I sighed, slightly tilting my head backwards. As much as my mind knew that I needed to leave, that I couldn’t do this, my body betrayed me. It wanted to be as close to Nick as possible, touch him in any single way.

Nick was perhaps feeling something similar, since this little movement was enough for him to let the door go and place both of his hands on my waist, turning me around carefully and pulling me to him, as close to his body as physically possible.

I gave up, my body won this fight.

My hand let go of my suitcase and found Nick’s neck as I buried myself into his arms, as close as I could. I let his muscular arms wrap around me, feeling small in his arms. I let his fingertips press into my sides, as he was pulling me even closer. I let him bury his face in my hair, pressing a tender kiss to my temple. I let his unique scent fill up my lungs.

I only realized I was sobbing into his chest when he started shushing me and carefully running his hand up and down on my back. I guess it was all of the stress and all of the emotions together to make me react like this. I wanted to pull away, a little bit embarrassed of myself but Nick wouldn’t let me.

‘Shhh,’ I heard his deep voice full of emotions. ‘It’s okay, dear.’

‘Nothing about this is okay,’ I mumbled into his chest, but didn’t try to pull away again.

I felt home. Suddenly all of the last two months’ loneliness was gone. I felt safe and content, like nothing in the outside word mattered, only the fact that I was in the arms of the man I probably trusted most in my life. And while it was a nice feeling, the guilt of it was also eating me up. He wasn’t mine, his job wasn’t to make me feel safe. He had a wife at home, a wife that had no idea what her husband was currently doing, that he was in a hotel room countries away with another woman.

‘I thought you promised you weren’t going to touch me at all,’ I noted long-long minutes later, after my tears stopped and I was able to normally breathe again. Nick let me pull away a bit, but still had his hands on my waist. He was close, probably way too close. His eyes were dark and glistering with countless emotions, yet his face stayed expressionless.

‘I’m not going to touch you in any way I wouldn’t touch a fan or a friend,’ he nodded, his voice a bit hoarse.

‘Like that is going to do the trick,’ I said sarcastically, chuckling bitterly. Just because he wasn’t going to kiss me or we weren’t going to have sex, it didn’t mean that we should’ve let the guilt go.

‘Don’t be like that,’ he asked softly, and I could see on this pretty face that he really was asking, not ordering this time. This version of him, this caring and cautious boy in front of me melted my heart a little bit. His fingers were slowly caressing my waist before he let go of me completely, and I immediately started missing the warmth. ‘The suite has two bedrooms, I’m going to put your suitcase into one,’ he announced, and before I could even nod, he was pulling my luggage from behind me, before I could change my mind and try to leave again.

After fixing my makeup and freshening my face up in the bathroom, I walked back out to the spacious living area of the suite, exploring a bit. It looked amazing, with a great view to the harbor. This must’ve cost a fortune to Nick and I felt a little bit guilty for letting him pay. I did offer him that we should stay in different hotels, but he shot the idea down instantly. He said, he wanted us to spend as much time together as possible, so he opted for the best solution, us staying in the same hotel room. Before I could put up a fight, he’s already paid for this suite.

I mindlessly ran my fingers on Nick’s black Dolce jacket, just thrown on the back of the couch, then shushed my guilt about the money thing away. He was Nick Jonas, this was spare change for him. Besides, he was the one inviting me out here, so I shouldn’t make this into a big deal, it was fine.

I walked out to the balcony, leaning onto the railing as I took in the view in front of me. Never once would I have thought that my first time in Stockholm would be a secret trip with Nick Jonas. It was kind of ridiculous, even crazy what can happen in life in a few weeks.

‘Do you want some wine?’ Nick asked, returning to the living area after having changed his dress shirt to a plain black tee.

‘Sure,’ I nodded, taking a seat on the comfy looking couch outside. I was in my leather jacket and jeans from the plane, but since it wasn’t too warm outside, I didn’t mind the extra layer of clothing on me.

‘Here.’ He handed me a glass of white wine, and after sat down on the other end of the couch. I thanked him, grateful for something that would relieve some of the tension about the situation.

I couldn’t turn my glance away from Nick. He looked so handsome, and at the same time so normal. It was strange, seeing him like this, like it was just an average day. I’ve only seen him in interviews before, or through the screen of my phone, and this was different. So mundane, so ordinary.

He never looked away from me either, his eyes remained mainly fixated on my face. I didn’t care that he knew I was staring at him, as I didn’t care that he was staring too. We’ve spent months of talking to each other, he knew me, my thoughts, my fears better than anyone else in my life, yet we’ve spent so little time actually being in the same place or just seeing each other.

Never did I believe that you can get close to someone who you’ve barely even met in person before. It was just another strange thing in life, the fact that we did get close to one another without physically being anywhere near.

‘What?’ I asked with a bashful smile on my face when he started chuckling softly.

‘I’m just so happy that you’re here,’ Nick said, and he really seemed that. He was so relaxed, much more than I’ve ever seen him before, and his aura relaxed me too. I was happy too. Guilty, but happy. It was a strange thing, to be feeling something so positive and so negative at the same time.

‘This is so surreal,’ I chuckled, taking a sip of my wine.

‘Yeah,’ he nodded. ‘It is also kind of amazing.’

‘Yes, it is.’

We’ve spent the afternoon mindlessly talking about anything and everything. It was such a change, actually seeing his face when he spoke, seeing his reaction to my words. I’ve known him for months now, yet it was like we’ve just met. Exploring each other’s mimic, hearing each other’s voice for hours… it was all new.

About half an hour into our conversation I’ve almost completely let go of any negative feelings in me about this trip. This was so worth it, I was probably happier than ever since Barcelona. Seeing Nick, being with Nick… Made me so happy that I couldn’t even begin to describe.

The stupid, beaming smile never left my face, and I couldn’t really concentrate on anything other than Nick, his moves, his body, his face. He wasn’t close to me, he remained on his spot on the outside couch and I stayed in mine. His face mirrored my expression, he also seemed unusually happy and calm. I loved seeing him like this. It wasn’t Nick Jonas in the suite with me, it was just Nick, the boy I’ve gotten so close to in the past months. He was just a normal guy, not a world phenomenon.

For dinner we’ve ordered some room service: mini hamburgers, fries, nachos and some fruits. Until it arrived, I went into the room Nick has put my bag into to change into something more comfortable, sweatpants and a white T-shirt. When I walked back out, Nick was checking his sugar at the dining room table.

‘Tell me about it,’ I asked.

‘The diabetes?’ he asked, glancing my way from the table as he was waiting for the result.

‘Yeah,’ I nodded. ‘I know you can manage it and it doesn’t hold you back from living your life to the fullest.’

‘Well, it was a process,’ Nick said. ‘At the beginning it was scary, but as I got into the routine, it became part of my everyday life. Now checking my blood sugar isn’t really a task, but just part of my days,’ he shrugged.

‘You have an insulin pump, right?’ I asked.

‘It’s called a Dexcom,’ he nodded and lightly raised the bottom of his T-shirt to show me the white device attached to his belly, close to his V-lines. ‘It does most of the work, but I still have to check if everything is all right.’

‘And what if it doesn’t?’ I asked, biting my lip. ‘I mean, I just want to know what I need to do if you aren’t feeling well. Teach me,’ I asked.

I’ve never dealt with type-1 diabetes in my life, so up until now I didn’t need to know the details. Talking to Nick through the phone didn’t make it necessary either to me to be educated on the dos and don’ts of his condition. But being here with him, especially with no one else around, I just didn’t feel quite comfortable not knowing what I need to do in an emergency. It was important and it wasn’t just something I wanted to ignore. It was part of Nick, an important and dangerous part.

He looked at me in awe for a long minute, and I had no idea what I’ve said. It was like he was surprised yet touched from my questions and request.

‘Thank you,’ he said quietly, sounding much more grateful than the situation would’ve requested him to be. ‘Come here.’ Nick reached out and I walked beside him. ‘See this little screen?’ he asked and I nodded, looking at the little device in his hand. ‘This shows how my glucose levels were changing through the day. The red dots mark the times I’ve measured my blood sugar with a finger prick. This little device usually keeps my blood sugar in check, but sometimes it can’t, that’s why I can’t neglect the finger pricking.’

‘And what if the device has a failure, or it just doesn’t work and there is a problem with your sugar?’ I asked.

‘If the traditional blood sugar measuring device says that I’m too low, I usually need to eat something. I always have snacks on me, like candy bars. If I’m high, I need insulin. You can find that in the inside pocket of my jacket, or my bag,’ he explained, motioning to the Dolce jacket on the couch.

‘And if you just suddenly start feeling sick and we don’t have time to measure your blood sugar?’ I asked. ‘How do I know if you’re high or low?’

‘Difference of symptoms.’ This was a side of Nick that the outside world barely seen anything of. Of course, everybody knew that he was diabetic, sometimes he even talked about it in interviews, but never this deep. He was a professional in this topic, he had to be. ‘High blood sugar comes with nausea and blurred vision most of the times, or extreme drowsiness. Low blood sugar is accompanied by shaking, fast heartbeat, sweating, dizziness and weakness.’

‘Okay,’ I nodded, making a mental note of these symptoms. They were essential for me to know.

Dinner was light and easy. Talking to Nick was like talking to my best friend. I didn’t have to think twice about what I was going to say, and after all the times I’ve been embarrassed in front of him, it seemed like now I was over it. I trusted him, and he must’ve trusted me too, since he was sharing very confidential information. Hell, the fact that we were in this hotel room was very confidential itself.

Seeing him so mundane, so normal, really just a guy changed it for me. I mean, the past months since we’ve known each other, I got to know him as just Nick, the amazing guy, but I never forgot that he was Nick Jonas, my teenage idol. Now, spending a whole day with him, being in the same place as him, most moments I managed to forget his last name and I only saw the most amazing person in him.

I felt happier than I’ve felt for a while, and it was all thanks to the curly haired boy with me. We joked around, flirted and talked, but he never once said anything inappropriate, and he also kept to his promise of not touching me. At all. Truth is, it was making me a little bit crazy, being in the same hotel room with him, yet not being able to touch. Nothing disturbed out peace, not even a phone call from his wife – which is probably due to Nick being on a ‘songwriting retreat’.

It was dangerous and exciting and painful and sweet. Sometimes during the evening when we walked by each other and our skin would accidentally touch, I could instantly feel shivers running down my spine. Nick usually just smirked, clearly noticing his effect on me, which was quite ridiculous. It was fun and crazy at the same time, his stupid effect on me.

The real problems started when bedtime came. Neither of us really wanted to sleep, we were keen on enjoying each other’s company as long as we could. It was one in the morning when we said our goodbyes, Nick breaking his promise a little and giving me a kiss on my forehead. A small gesture that made my heart go faster and made me long for him even more. It was extremely hard to turn around and walk into my room without glancing back, yet it was right. Sleep never came, though.

After an hour of trying to fall asleep unsuccessfully, I gave up. My mind was full of Nick – like always -, but now my nose was full of his scent, my fingers were trembling with the need to touch his skin, to explore it, get familiar with it. I was missing the warmth radiating off of his body, his pretty face, his pink lips smirking.

It was crazy, he was literally in the room next to me, yet I was still missing him. I wasn’t stupid, I knew what this was. My body and mind were both longing for him and it caused physical pain that they knew I couldn’t have him, not the way I wanted.

He was married.

He was Nick Jonas.

He was unavailable, at least for me.

At two in the morning I got out of my bed only in my satin PJs, and exited to the balcony, but not before grabbing the box of cigarettes from my bag, a little accessory that I’ve brought with me just in case. I was tense and pretty sure that I’d have trouble falling asleep anyway. Maybe nicotine could calm me, at least enough to fall asleep without jumping Nick first.

It was a bit chilly, just the beginning of May, plus in a northern country, so I shouldn’t have been surprised. It felt great, like I could finally breathe a little, like Nick’s intoxicating signature musk finally left my nostrils, at least for a few minutes. As I inhaled, the smoke filled up my lungs and as much as I usually hated it, now it felt like medicine to the dying.

‘That’s a quite nasty habit.’ His voice startled me a bit, his scent filling up my nose again straightaway. I sighed.

‘It’s not really a habit,’ I shrugged. I only smoked occasionally and he knew it. ‘Not like smoking cigars is any better.’

‘Yeah,’ he chuckled, standing next to me. He was wearing some loose sweatpants and a white T-shirt, his hair was messier than an hour earlier. ‘These nasty habits have brought us together though,’ he noted.

‘They did,’ I nodded, thinking back on how crazy these past months have been, how much I’ve gained with Nick in my life, and how much closer I’ve gotten to him.

‘Why are you out here? It’s freezing,’ Nick said, burying his hand into his pockets.

‘Couldn’t sleep,’ I shrugged.

‘Why?’ he asked, sounding concerned.

I turned my face towards him, hoping that he’d just do his thing and I didn’t have to explain myself with words. Nick was looking at me softly, yet he was waiting for a real answer.

I could feel Nick looking at me for a long moment before running a hand though the back of his hair and chuckling in agony.

We looked deeply into each other’s eyes for long minutes in the moonlight. Nick looked more vulnerable than I’ve ever seen him before, and also a bit helpless and brutally honest. This confession of his made my heart melt, but also hurt me, making me sharply inhale the cold Stockholm air.

All I wanted to do was close the distance between us and finally, after these long months just kiss him and forget anything else. Comfort him and myself at the same time. I didn’t want to care about the outside world.

But I did. I was just that person, who couldn’t let her concerns and fears go.

‘Don’t say that,’ I asked quietly, before breaking our connection and turning back towards the view, putting out my cigarette. ‘You’re the married one. You have a significant other. You can’t just say things like this to me.’

‘Do you think I want to?’ he chuckled dryly. I glanced at his face from the corner of my eye, only to see an incredulous and pained expression on it. I hated seeing him like this. ‘Don’t you think I know that this is wrong? That I want to want to be with my wife? Want to think about her all the time, daydream about kissing her, fucking her, loving her?’

I knew he wasn’t expecting and answer so I stayed quiet. Nick’s voice started rising, he seemed a bit angry now.

‘But I can’t!’ he exclaimed. ‘Any time I picture any of those things, my amazing, caring, loving, beautiful wife isn’t the one in my head, as soon as I close my eyes, it’s you, you, you! And I just can’t help it. Don’t you think it’s making me crazy too?’ he asked, not waiting for an answer again. His expression was tense, he gesticulated fervently. I couldn’t move, I was so shocked from this sudden emotional outburst. This talk was timely to happen, yet I didn’t expect it to be so… sudden and intense. ‘I thought I was happy with my marriage, my wife, perfectly content with my life. But the moment I met you… You were like fresh air that I didn’t know I needed. I’m so drawn to you and I can’t help it.’

‘Nick…’ I started, but I had no idea what to say, so I bit my bottom lip instead. Nick looked at me for a long minute, studying my face and weighing his options. Then, with a little hesitation he stepped closer and put a hand on my arm that was holding onto the railing.

‘I know this isn’t fair,’ he started, his voice heavy with emotions and much calmer than before. ‘It’s not fair to Priyanka, to me, to the world and especially to you.’

‘What do you expect me to say to that?’ I asked, after looking into his eyes for a minute. I couldn’t take it, all the emotions I was feeling and the expression on his face. This was torture.

He stayed quiet for a while, his hand laying on my arm, giving me goosebumps. The skin on skin contact made me suddenly aware of how close we were to each other, and how much I wanted to be even closer. But it was wrong, this whole thing was crazy.

‘Can we just… Pretend that everything is okay? Just for the weekend?’ he asked a bit sheepishly and it broke my heart that he felt the need of looking to the ground. As an instinct, I raised my hand to his face, gently making him look at me. I felt like my heart was exploding from the touch of his stubble, the heat radiating off of his skin.

I wanted to say that is was going to be okay. That Priyanka wasn’t waiting for him at home, that what we were doing wasn’t awfully wrong. That this was normal.

‘Can we sleep together?’ I asked quietly, answering his desperate question with a question. ‘I don’t mean sex, just… Sleep in the same bed?’ I needed to ask this question. I wanted it, a little bit of intimacy between us, something that didn’t count as cheating. But Nick was the one that needed to okay it, he was the one that needed to deem as acceptable for his conscience.

He didn’t answer for a few minutes and I started to feel like I was overstepping. Maybe it was okay for me, but it wouldn’t be okay for him. Before I could dive deeper into my doubts, he slipped his hand from my arm to my palm and enlaced our fingers, pulling me towards his bedroom without another word.

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