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“Well, he keeps asking about you, actually.”
I cleared my throat and slung my book bag over my shoulder as I glanced at Sasha, both of us leaving campus to head home for the night. “Oh?” Once the initial thrill of her words and who I’d pictured faded, I realized she was obviously speaking about Salvatore.
“Oh yeah,” she said in a slightly annoyed voice. “I told him I didn’t think you were really looking for anything right now, but Salvatore is persistent.”
As we left the last class of the day, the only evening one I’d signed up for, I glanced up at the sky to see the sun already starting to set. The air was cold; the promise of a storm in the chilled wind as it whipped by us had my hair dancing over my shoulders.
“But he seems enamored with you and can’t get it through his head that now probably isn’t the right time to be annoying and continue to pursue this… whatever this is for him.”
I actually stopped when she said that and glanced at her. “Enamored?” I snorted. “With me?” I shook my head and felt a smile tip the corners of my mouth. “You should tell him I’m nothing special. In fact, tell him I’m so high maintenance I’d drive him crazy.” She was the one to snort now. “Besides, compared to the women he probably sees in Italy, ones who no doubt look as gorgeous as you, like prime cut, well”—I shrugged and looked at her out of the corner of my eye—“I’m like bologna.”
Sasha started laughing as we made our way toward the parking lot, and I could tell she had more to say, but it was very evident she was choosing her words wisely. I knew on one hand she didn’t want to press me to go out with her cousin, but on the other hand, she probably felt a familial bond to him and so was comfortable pushing a little harder.
“You’re so low maintenance it’s not even funny, and bologna?” Her red, full lips split in a grin. “Hardly.”
What would your cousin think if he knew the kinds of things I fantasize about, the deviant sexual things I want?
Of course I kept all of that to myself. I could never tell Sasha—or anyone for that matter—how hollow I felt, how I thought about pain and pleasure coexisting together.
Of power being a dynamic that bent me to its will.
Of being unable to stand a man’s touch because it felt… wrong.
Except for his.
I shivered as the memory of his hands on me lit my body up instantly.
Yeah, I wasn’t really feeling Sasha looking at me like I’d lost my damn mind once I admitted all of that. So let her think I was talking about being a superficial woman who would drive her cousin crazy with all my wants and needs.
We walked the rest of the way in silence, my thoughts consumed with all the things I deemed “wrong” with me. I hated that part of myself even if I yearned for it. We stopped when we got to our cars parked side by side.
“Yeah, okay. I can see when a door is shut firmly. I’ll just tell him to leave it be and to move on. Although I’ve never seen him show so much interest in someone before.” She glanced up, then shrugged. “But it’s probably for the best.” She finally looked at me again. “Salvatore is what I like to call… old-school.”
I lifted a brow.
“Sal is a typical man who wants a woman to be his and only his. A possessive Italian to the core, even if he’d only be here for a short time.”
Great.
“And it’s not like he’s gonna stay in the States forever, and I’d hate for things to get serious between you two,” she said and gave me a sly smile, “and then he up and leaves and goes back to Italy.” She shrugged again and opened her driver-side door to toss her bag inside.
I thought about her words, really thought about how Salvatore wasn’t going to be in the States forever, like she’d said. And although the very thought of touching him in any way sent this wave of anxiety through me, I also knew that I had to stop living my life like this.
Afraid and worried.
Unsure and hesitant.
Maybe I had just never given myself the opportunity to allow someone into my life, too ashamed by what I felt and what I wanted that I’d blocked myself from feeling things? I didn’t think about the man at the club, about how he made me feel. I needed to start living and stop worrying, feeling ashamed.
Why not start now with the opportunity being presented?
I could try to live a normal life, although I didn’t want to make it sound like I was using Salvatore as a test subject. I couldn’t lie and say the prospect that he wouldn’t be around for long and would put an entire ocean between us at the end of… whatever this would be… gave me a sense of calm. Because there wouldn't be any real expectations or having to worry about what happened after it all. He’d be gone.
I could try… with him. It wouldn’t be serious, and of course I’d tell him that. We could take it one minute at a time.
Because truthfully I was tired of my “issues.” I was tired of finding fault in so much, of not being able to connect with anyone, of not being able to have a romantic interest touch me without feeling like my skin was being torn from my bones.
“Give him my number,” I said, and I saw the flair of surprise on Sasha’s face.
