A Hollywood ending. Almost.

The four of us walked aimlessly at first from the bar, trying to determine where we were headed. The boys wanted to go clubbing, and I wasn’t going to debate.

Jon and I led the group. I had seen the club, Park, earlier in the day. Tin had pointed it out to me on our drive. The club was tucked in (shocker) a park by the cathedral, so I kind of knew where to go. Being backpackers on a budget, we opted to stop first at the gas station across the street and stock up on some beers.

Well, Jon and I did. The others just hung out. Slightly buzzed already, we stared at the cooler debating which poison we wanted and what size. We ended up with some super-sized cans of Croatian beer. Two a-piece. The plan was to sneak them into the club, so we shoved three of them into my purse and one into his shorts. It wasn’t the classiest. It wasn’t the most honest. But, it saved us a few KN so we weren’t going to feel too bad about it. Especially after Jon forked over cover for both of us.

Inside was unlike any club I had ever experienced. There was a terrace, a bar and a dance area with the DJ set on a slightly raised stage. A mix of Euro house music and cheesy 80s music flooded the room. Jon and I looked at each other and headed straight for the bar for a shot.

Needless to say, we did not last long there. We bopped our heads to the bad music and when the DJ made an announcement in Croatian, Jon could only interpret it as an apology for the crap we were listening to, and reasoned that he must have left his music at home and what we were listening to was the backup.

The rest of our party seemed to be having a good time so they weren’t keen to follow us when Jon and I decided to depart for greener pastures (and to meet his friends at another club). The thing about greener pastures is this — once you get there, they aren’t so green. Luckily for us, we never made it to another club.

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The new roommate

Davor and I stood on Fulir’s balcony, overlooking the tiny shops and bar below. He was telling me a Canadian girl was staying here and also going to Plitvice Lakes the next day, and when she got back, he promised he would introduce us so we could take the bus together the following morning. He had tried to explain to me where the bus station was, but when I became exasperated because of my lack of map-reading skills, I just asked if him or Tin, a worker at the hostel I had befriended the night before, would come with me so I wouldn’t get lost. Instead of agreeing to that, Tin said he would drive me to the bus station to purchase the ticket.

It worked for me.

That’s when I saw Him on the street below.  He caught my eye immediately. Perfect height (I’d probably recon around 5’9 or so). Perfect weight (the right blend between athletic and non-athletic). And completely different from the typical guy.

He wore plaid shorts, a dark shirt and shiny gold-framed sunglasses. He had a healthy serving of tattoos on his arms and legs, and a lip ring hooped through the middle of his bottom lip. His brown hair was cropped close to his head.

There was no way he was staying at Fulir. He just didn’t fit the mold of a typical backpack-hostel-goer. But, he walked up the ancient, red colored stairs, pulled a key out of his pocket and walked through the yellow painted door into the room I was staying in. When he walked in I caught a glimpse of a tattoo peaking through his hair on the back of his head and melted just a little bit.

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