I woke up on my last morning in Croatia, shaggy blonde Brit by my side.

Whoops.

The night before, Chopper had joined me at Fresh Sheets Hostel for happy hour, which turned into an impromptu quiz night, which then morphed into my birthday dinner with some Brits, an Irish lass and a French Canadian.

I liked the Brit from the start, when he picked me to play on his quiz team. On our walk to dinner he and I exchanged social commentary on the untimely death of Michael Jackson and how the mourning crossed countries and cultures. And, following dinner and drinks at a pub located on the stairs, we stuck nearby each other.

At one point, I even turned to Chopper and asked if he thought the Brit liked me, to which he responded a quick “No.”

Boy was he wrong.

After drinks on the stairs,Β  we ended up at a Latin (yes, Latin) dance club, then shaggy blonde, his roommate and I, ventured back through the walled city, up the many, many, many stairs, and into the hostel.

Now, I know the hostel rules for getting it on — and for those of you who don’t, you need to read this.

Note: I admit to nothing except there was a cute boy in bed next to me the following morning.

There’s something to be said for waking up in Dubrovnik. It had nothing (well, not much)Β to do with the cute boy next to me and so much more to do with the amazing view out my little attic window — he had a private room, so it really was my attic window.

Before my eyes was the city’s wall, complete with people traversing its stairs (shocker), stopping to take photos and admire the breathtaking vistas of the Adriatic and the city. Beyond the wall was the blue, blue sea.

I laid there, taking it all in for a few minutes. I wanted that image burned into my brain since there was no way I could tip-toe out of the room to grab my camera which was next to my bed (Brit’s friend took my bed), without waking everyone up. I can perfectly remember the arch of the glass-less window, the wall of the city just beyond, and then the sea. It was mid-morning, and the breeze came through so delicately, treating me to a fresh breath of beautiful, before I had to get out of bed, round-up my belongings, and head to the airport.

Awkwardly, Brit and I exchanged e-mails, then he oh-so-gentlemanly carried my massive bag down the million flights of stairs to the main floor. We said goodbye, then I headed to Dubrovnik’s airport, not ready to end my trip and return to the real world.

When I returned to Atlanta, I looked Brit up on Facebook and added him. Ironically, he was the only person I met the entire trip who denied my Friend Request.

Oh well, I thought. We’ll always have Dubrovnik. Then, I smiled to myself and began to figure out the next steps to take in my life.

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