Free Anywhere by J. Meyers Page A

fun—and I would feel the same anywhere we were.”
    He smiled and something shifted in his eyes. It was a small change, and I wasn’t sure what it was, but I almost felt as if he was looking at me differently, like he was seeing something there he hadn’t noticed before.
    “Though,” I said, tilting my head at him, “I do see some room for improvement, if I’m going to be honest.”
    A ghost of a smile settled on his lips. “I’m listening.”
    “We have yet to look for tacky souvenirs and we’ve been in Venice for almost a whole day.”
    He sighed heavily and rolled his eyes, the smile growing. “That Quest is over, Skye. We aren’t going to top the boxers. We haven’t seen anything that even comes close. Trust me on this. I’ve been questing a LOT longer than you have. I have a sense for these things.”
    “You have a Quest Sense?”
    He nodded, looking totally serious. “And it’s taken years of experience to develop it.”
    “I just don’t think it’s right to call a quest over after only one city, that’s all I’m saying. What if we’re wrong? I think we owe it to the Spirit of the Quest to at least keep looking.”
    He looked at me sideways. “The Spirit of the Quest?” he said, and I nodded. “Okay. We’ll look, but I want the record to reflect my assertion that the challenge has already been completed.”
    “As you wish, Counselor.”

    “See, the problem here,” I said as we wove through the souvenir vendors on the street with nothing even REMOTELY as tacky as those boxers in sight, “is that—”
    “I was right?” Asher said.
    I hit him on the arm and continued. “Is that I think Italy is totally missing out on an entire Tacky Souvenir Empire.”
    “Really.”
    “Like those hats up there.” And I pointed to these large, bright-colored patchwork Cat-in-the-Hat types and long pointed witch hats above a row of tame-but-lame touristy t-shirts. “They are ridiculous, yes. And anyone would look like an idiot wearing one—oh! Except for you, sir. You look GREAT,” I said to the guy who’d just bought one and was giving me the stink eye from underneath it. Asher threw back his head and laughed so hard some pigeons flew away.
    I ducked around the other side of the stand, laughing until tears ran down my face and I couldn’t breathe. I sat down hard on the ground and leaned back on my pack, staring up at the clouds passing by until I could speak again. God that felt good. I hadn’t laughed that hard in a long time.
    “But the problem I see,” I said, picking up where I’d left off, “is that Italy is severely underestimating tourists. I bet the ding-a-ling boxers are a big seller. I mean, even I bought a pair. But why stop at boxers? Why not have David ’s bits and pieces hanging from a key chain?”
    Asher had this look of wonder on his face as he laughed.
    “What?” I said.
    “Josh would have liked you.” He said it like it was a huge compliment. And I took it as such.
    Then the butterflies began again in earnest.
    That night we wandered the streets, ending up in St. Mark’s square where chairs had been brought out and placed around stages set up along the perimeter. People either sat or stood, listening to musicians filling the air with song. The square was lit all around, the light glowing softly on faces while a sliver of moon hung in the sky.
    It was beautiful out, and unbelievably romantic with the stars and music intermingling in the night. Asher looked at me, his gaze going to my lips, and I forced myself to turn away.
    Sometimes timing was everything, and at the moment, my timing completely sucked.

eleven

    A fter three days amidst the crowds and the unbelievable art and history of Venice (seriously, it’s like whoa), all I wanted was to find a little town to hole up in for a couple of days of quiet. To get away and immerse myself in the local culture.
    I needed it. My senses were overwhelmed—totally in a good way, but still overwhelmed—and I wanted to