During dinner, I’d gotten him talking about his travels. He’d been so animated—chest pressed against the edge of the table as he leaned toward me, eyes wide with joy, and hands gesturing as though words alone simply weren’t enough to tell the story adequately. I’d sat and listened, losing the fight against my smile, and thought to myself,this cannot be it for us.
A chance meeting at a wedding in Tuscany; an evening spent together over a meal I’ll forget long before I ever forget his face. And thatface. Eyes bluer than the Mediterranean, sharp-boned features, and a quick mouth, all packaged up with a tiny, lithe figure and clever mind. My fingers tighten around his hand involuntarily, as though even my subconscious doesn’t want to let him go. I clear my throat.
“Listen, how would you feel about… Well, you said you didn’t have another job lined up, and I’m here for the next couple weeks. So, I thought—if you wanted… Maybe we could?—”
“Roman,” Niilo interrupts, saving the pair of us from what was gearing up to be quite a lot of nothing wrapped up in too many words.
“Sorry,” I say, blowing out a breath hard enough to puff my cheeks. He uses our linked hands to pull us to a stop, turning meuntil we’re standing face to face, Niilo’s tipped upward to keep his eyes on mine.
“Roman,” he repeats, a sly smile teasing the corners of his mouth. “How would you feel about some company on your trip?”
“I’m not particularly interested in company, per se,” I admit. “But I’d like it if you came along.”
He laughs, looking delighted even as he shakes his head. “I’m not company?”
“Company is your parents stopping by unannounced, or friends not picking up on the subtle hints you’re dropping instead of asking them outright to leave. You’re not company,” I repeat. “You’re…well, you’re Niilo.”
“Makes sense,” he agrees solemnly.
“So…you want to come along?” I ask hopefully. That was easier than I thought it would be—no convincing at all. “I’ll book the hotel rooms, and cover meals and gas, obviously. And you can choose the music in the car. I’m easy,” I add, which sends Niilo’s sculpted eyebrows crawling up his forehead. “I mean?—”
“I know what you mean,” he says, gently interrupting once more. Unfortunately, my mouth isn’t quite done making a fool of me.
“And I promise not to murder you, or anything.”
Niilo jolts forward with a startled laugh, putting a hand on my hip to steady himself. Brushing a hand down my face, I join in, unable to resist. I’m relieved, at the very least, that he’s not yet sprinting in the opposite direction and calling for help. A promise not to murder him is probably something an actual murderer would say.
“Let’s make a pact, me and you,” Niilo recommends, eyes shiny and cheeks flushed. God, he’s beautiful. “No murder, robbery, nor any other form of mayhem or bodily harm will happen on this adventure.”
“Sealed in blood?” I ask jokingly. His lips twitch as he looks up at me. “Or actually, I’ve got a better idea.”
“As do I,” he agrees, rising up onto his toes as I lean down, put my hands on either side of his face, and kiss him.
