“Sure.” I didn’t really care about clothes, but Mom did. If she got any extra money, she would insist on buying me something that I would inevitably never wear.
She tried again. “Have you heard there’s going to be a solar eclipse tonight? It starts in an hour. You can take a blanket and some snacks and watch it from the beach.”
All alone. Great. “Okay,” I said, because I was too tired, too sad to keep up the anger.
I took a blanket, a bag of pretzels and a bottled water down to the beach. There were a few other people who had the same idea, so I walked down the sand a bit to steer clear of them. Laying out the blanket, I sat down and leaned back on my hands, staring at the view in front of me. The dark water, the soothing sound of waves lapping the sand, the full moon burning white except for a dark shadow on its left side, creeping slowly across the glowing orb.
My chest suddenly loosened, and I took a shuddering breath, not realizing how tense I had been.
I lay back on the towel, rested my hands on my stomach and closed my eyes, enjoying the ocean breeze. Once in a while I would open my eyes and check the progress of the eclipse. Clouds were moving in, surrounding the moon in a burnt orange glow. Half the moon was in shadow now. Thinking about how that shadow came from earth, the big rock I was lying on made me feel so small, so insignificant. What does my life even matter?
The hair stood up on my arms as footsteps crunched in the sand behind me. Then a shadow fell over me. I tilted my head back and bit back a squeak of surprise.
Sandro.
He was grinning down at me. “You missed my birthday party, Angel.” The words were lazy and slurred. He was drunk.
“I know. I’m sorry.” Heart pounding, I pushed myself up and scooted over on the blanket.
He plopped down beside me, surrounding me in his intoxicating scent. His eyes held mine for a long moment and then moved over my face like he was memorizing it.
“Happy Birthday. How was the party?” I asked, my quiet words almost lost in the breeze.
He cocked his head. “Why didn’t you come?”
“My mom wouldn’t let me.” My face heated and I was glad it was dark. That sounded so pathetic, like I was a kid. I didn’t want him to think of me as a kid. I was only a few months younger than him. “She made me work with her so I couldn’t.”
He nodded. “She doesn’t want you hanging out with us.” Then he reached up and pushed a stray strand of hair off my cheek. “She’s right. You’re too sweet for this world.”
I closed my eyes at the touch of his finger on my cheek. And at him agreeing with my mother.
When I opened them, he was staring up at the moon. “It’s like our shadow is eating it. Maybe it is made of cheese.”
I snorted and he looked over at me with a wide smile, deep dimples appearing in his cheeks. His eyes were dark blue and glassy, his smile fading as he picked up my hand in his. He turned my wrist so my palm was face up and began tracing the lines with a feathery touch.
A chill raced through my body. I stared at him, my stomach coiling, heating with his touch.
His brows were pulled together like he was struggling with something. Then he slid his fingers between mine and pressed our palms together. He raised hishead and squeezed my hand. “Do you know what I wanted for my birthday more than anything?”
I shook my head slowly.
He lifted his other hand and placed it behind my neck, pulling me closer to him. “A kiss from you.” Holding my gaze, he waited. When I didn’t protest, he leaned forward and pressed his warm lips to mine.
My eyes fluttered closed as a sense of euphoria wiped out everything around me. Everything except him.
He reached up and grabbed my chin, pulling it down so my mouth opened. Then he slipped his tongue inside. The sharp taste of whiskey and heat consumed me. He moaned into my mouth and the vibration of it traveled through me, igniting nerve endings I didn’t know I had.
I don’t know how much time we spent with our tongues tangled, our hands exploring each other. All I know is when he finally pulled away, lips glistening, eyes swirling with emotions neither of us understood, the moon was completely covered by the shadow. And everything had changed.
When I blink and come out of the memory, I glance at Sloane.
She’s pressing a Kleenex under her eyes. “That’s so goddamn romantic,” she snorts. “How can a fifteen-year-old be so goddamnromantic.”
I sigh. “He’s Italian. It’s in his blood.” I lean forward and grab a few M&M’s, pop them in my mouth and crunch them violently between my molars.
“So, then he came back every summer? And the romance continued?” Her eyes are shiny, and she’s leaning toward me on the sofa. Obviously invested in our story.
I nod. I can still feel the anticipation, the excitement that hummed through my body when June would roll around. That first glimpse of him strolling through the doors of the hotel with his family, or down the hall, or out to the pool that made me feel like I was floating in a bubble of happiness.
