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Cool. Cool. Cool.
A loud popping noise makes me yelp. Konstantin holds up a corkscrew with a cork stabbed on the end of it. He waves a black-labeled bottle. “Wine to go with our food?”
“That depends on what you’re making.”
“Does it?” he chuckles. He plucks two tall glasses with fat round bottoms from the slats above the sink, where they hang like bats. Turning them over, he fills both to the rim with ruby-red liquid. “Wine is more about the mood than the meal.”
“I don’t know. Hard to imagine drinking this stuff with sweet and sour chicken.”
Does he evenknowwhat sweet and sour chicken tastes like?
“Never know until you try.” He motions for me to take the glass. When I do, he taps the rim of his against mine. The sound is clean and clear, like ice cracking in a river. “Will a ham and cheese panini work?”
I give my wine a swish. “Now you’re speaking my language.”
Parking myself on one of the tall stools at the counter, I set my elbows on the marble top. I have a perfect view of Konstantin as he navigates the stove. His movements are similar to his dancing at the bar. His shoes click, ankles and knees pivoting, one hand stuffing ingredients into slices of bread while the other turns the panini grill on.
He slathers butter on the bread and throws the thick focaccia bread onto the grill. The metal top coming down and sizzles deliciously. My mouth is watering. It has to be nearly four in the morning—when did I eat last?
My empty stomach is causing the wine to go to my head. Or maybe I’m drinking it too fast. Because when I look at the bottle again, it’s half gone. But hey, I’m hungry, and it’s all I’ve got to calm my grumbling belly.
He arranges the hot sandwiches on two white and blue plates, and hands one to me. “Let’s go upstairs.”
I nearly drop my plate. Upstairs? Where his bedroom is?
“What for?” I ask, my voice high and tight.
“Sun’s coming up soon.” If he notices my freak-out, he doesn’t act like it. “And I’d hate for you to miss the sunrise from the second-floor patio.”
Air exits my lips shakily. On one hand, it’s not a blatant invitation. But on the other hand …
At the thought of Konstantin bending me over the railing of the second-floor patio, his fist in my hair as he fucks me in the sunrise … my heart starts racing again.
Konstantin pinchesthe bottle of wine under his arm, sipping from his glass as he walks. Following him up the steps as carefully as I can, I reach the second floor. There’s a room to my left, the door cracked slightly. Inside I spot a king-sized bed covered in a blue duvet. Next to it is the black luggage with the Hello Kitty tag.
It’s weird to see it again.
It reminds me of Olivia. I haven’t heard her voice in …
Well, who’s counting these days?
I should call her.She probably won’t answer. But it won’t hurt to try.
Heck, I can probably do more than try. Maybe I should go to her apartment in New York and knock.
I have all the time in the world now.
I can try harder to reconnect with her. Our distance isn’t all her fault.
Some of it is mine.
And like every memory involving Olivia, I start thinking about my parents.They’re going to be so upset with me when theylearn I got expelled.I can picture the scowls dragging their jaws low, their eyes hard as obsidian and just as black.
I can hear them already:Do you have any idea how much all of this costed us?
The reality waiting for me back in America is bleak.
But those thoughts are chased away when we step around a corner and through a set of glass doors. Salty-sweet air with the heavy scent of lemons rushes over my bare shoulders. Straight across from me is a glistening streak of sapphire water. A tall cliff dotted by numerous painted houses juts out into the water before curving away into the distance.
