“Ugh. Don’t rub it in.” I lean my head back and try not to let the image of real Italian wood-burning stove pizza with its savory tomato sauce and stretchy cheese make my mouth water. “We are supposed to be on a terrace in Capri right now, eatingrealpizza.”
“Let’s see how this compares.” Hayes pulls out a half baguette sliced open lengthwise with red and white layers and small grey flecks. “She said it has cheese, canned mushrooms and…”
“Don’t tell me” I hold up my hand. “Ketchup?”
“I’m afraid so.” He looks down and then moves his nose closer to see if the aroma is as unpromising as the description.
“I don’t care,” I say, letting my head droop. “I’m so hungry right now I might eat the paper bag for dessert.” I take one of the napkins and put it down on the chair across between us. He picks up hiszapiekankaand I pick up mine. I bite down on the crusty bread and can taste the tang of the ketchup and sweetness of the cheese. It’s not fresh from a wood stove but it’s its own thing. More like a grilled cheese with a little something extra than pizza.
“Wow,” Hayes says, nodding his head and chewing slowly. “Am I just so hungry it doesn’t matter, or is this amazingly and surprisingly delicious?”
I nod, take another bite and he does the same. We are looking at each other and nodding in unison.
“Almost as good as… Dominic’s,” Hayes says. A sly smile stretches across his face.
“How can you be so smart and so dumb at the same time?” He’s starting the debate that kept Clarkson students entertained throughout the year. “Everyone knows that Angelo’s has the best pizza. Dominic’s wishes it could compare.”
“You Angelo’s people. You have it all wrong. Who puts pineapple on a pizza? Dominic’s is where it’s at.” I remember one night we were smack talking each other’s favorite pizza on campus, as everyone loved to do, and we started wrestling. Of course, Hayes was on the team in high school so I didn’t stand a chance, but I did like the way his legs would intertwine with mine and we’d roll around on top of each other until there wasn’t a shred of resistance between us.
My phone buzzes and I look to see a text from the airline. “Looks like our bag is arriving here to the hotel.”
“Did you say bag as in singular?” he asks.
“Apparently the other bags made it to sunny Capri on an earlier flight, but they’re bringing the one that was left behind to the hotel. It should be here in a few minutes.”
“I hope it’s yours. I’m fine with the hotel soap and buying a clean pair of underwear. I know you need your moisturizers and stuff.”
It’s sweet of him to say that he hopes it’s mine. Especially since our last night in Berlin was awkward at best. It’s very on brand for Hayes to be willing to make a sacrifice for someone else’s comfort. That’s one of the reasons I know he will make an excellent doctor. “Thanks, but I don’t need all that stuff. I mean, I like it. It makes me feel… I guess better about myself. Like I’m taking care of my skin, and that means I’m looking my best.” I chew the zapia-whatever-it-is, enjoying the feeling of my blood sugar returning to normal. Hayes is enjoying his too, but he keeps looking at me. Something is on his mind.
“Brady, you know when you look your best?” He puts down his food.
I shake my head, continuing to chew.
“When you’re asleep.” His eyes are gentle. His voice tentative.
“What?” I ask, and I can feel my face flush over the thought of Hayes watching me sleep.
“I don’t mean to sound creepy or anything but when we were together, I’d get up before you.” He shifts in his seat. “Of course, there are nocturnal animals that get up before you.”
“Hey.” I slap him on the arm playfully.
“Anyway, your face would twist, and your nose may have been running or you had sleep in your eyes…” He playfully describes the horrible details.
“Ugh, stop it. It sounds awful.” I hide my face with my hand. After the morning we had, I’m sure I don’t look much better right now.
“Not to me.”
I turn my head away but he guides my face toward him with his hand on my chin. “I liked it because you didn’t know anyone was looking at you and I could see the real you that way. Without all the moisturizers and stuff. Don’t get me wrong, I know how cute you look when you’re ready to go out dancing, but that’s different. That’s a Brady for everyone to see, but I liked the Brady that was just for me.”
The vulnerability I felt a few seconds ago transforms into something else. Hayes sees through the pretty veil I try to keep firmly in place and it makes me feel truly seen. But he doesn’t usually share his feelings without being asked. Repeatedly sometimes. What happened on our last day in Berlin to create this shift? I keep my eyes on him, allowing the connection we are feeling in this moment to linger until…
The sound of screeching brakes makes us both turn to look out the window. The rain has finally stopped and the clouds are beginning to move off with rays of sun making their return on the cobblestone street. A van is stopped in front of the hotel and we both watch the driver go to the back and pull out the one bag neither of us needs. He brings it in with a big smile. He’s so proud to have delivered it to us that we both hide our reaction until he is back in the van and driving away.
We stare at the black shoulder bag with small, zippered pouches along the side.
“This is the bag that found its way to us?” I ask, putting my hands on my hips.
“Well, with the media kit here we could grab some content I guess?” He is trying to find a bright side when there is none.
