When In Rome...Lose Control: Cynthia's Story

by Mae Hill,Lena

  “Hey now,” he said, pulling her to him. “That’s crazy talk. Just because you’re strong doesn’t mean you’re walking on anyone. And you don’t have to do everything on your own. You’re allowed to ask for support.”

  She hid her face in his chest and let him be that support. “I know, but I’ve been such a bitch since my dad died.”

  “You’re not,” he said, tightening his arms around her. “You haven’t been. I should have helped you more. I just didn’t know how. I didn’t want to hold you back.”

  “You didn’t.” Her words were muffled in his shirt as she tried to speak through her sniffling.

  “Good,” he said, smoothing her hair back. “Because you’re allowed to grow and change, too, you know. Things don’t have to stay the same to be good.”

  “Are you sure? Because it seems like it.”

  “I’m sure. You,” he said, cupping her face between his hands, “deserve to shine.”

  She closed her eyes and took a long, shaky breath, and before she could open them, his lips brushed across hers in the gentlest kiss.

  This was her moment. The moment she didn’t know how long she’d been waiting for. Maybe longer than she realized.

  But just as her fingers closed around his biceps, just as she started to press deeper into the kiss, the thought of Kristina invaded her mind. She forced herself to pull away over the chorus of disappointment in her head.

  “I’m sorry,” Nick said quickly, releasing his hold on her. “I’m so sorry.”

  “No,” she said, clutching his arms even tighter now, before he disappeared again. “Don’t say sorry. I just…”

  He followed her gaze to the others, who were all watching them, and a frown creased his forehead. “Right.”

  Maggie bugged her eyes at Cynthia, then nodded towards Kristina. Cynthia stepped back from Nick, who shuffled after her to join the group. “I’m sorry,” Cynthia said to Kristina. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

  “It’s about time,” Kristina said, crossing her arms in front of her and tapping her foot.

  Cynthia wasn’t sure if she meant for them to come back, or for it to happen. “So you don’t hate me?” she asked, daring a glimpse at Kristina’s face.

  “No, I don’t hate you,” Kristina said with a sigh. “I was just trying to make Armani think I didn’t care about him anymore, anyway. No offense, Nick.”

  He shook his head. “No worries.”

  Ned cleared his throat. “This is cute and everything, but we might go on to the next bridge.”

  “Okay,” Cynthia said. “We’re coming. Right?”

  Nick’s fingers closed around hers, and he gave her that side smile that made her insides sparkle like champagne. “Right.”

  Instead of feeling frustrated with the ordinariness of walking with Nick, she found her stomach trembling with nerves as they made their way towards the next bridge. Every time they passed an old-fashioned lamp post, she had to stop herself from examining his face, trying to figure out what he was thinking. Her hand was sweating terribly inside his. All this time, she’d thought it would be boring to be with someone she knew so well, but all of a sudden, she wanted to ask a million questions she’d never thought to ask before.

  They stepped onto the next bridge, still holding hands, and made their way to the center. The city shone with a warm, golden glow, the lights dancing along the river below. The breeze off the water sent a chill rippling across her skin, and she turned and slid her arms around Nick. She could do that now. She stood with her cheek pressed to his chest and closed her eyes, listening to the gentle slosh of the water under the bridge and letting his warmth take her over.

  After a while, she pulled back and looked up at him. “So how long have you known, anyway?”

  “Known what?”

  “You know. That you liked me.” She smiled and gave him a little squeeze. “Was it love at first sight?”

  “No.” He smoothed her hair back and tipped up her chin. “But it is now.”

  This time, he really kissed her.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “Can I ask you something?” Cynthia asked later, as they walked along the now-familiar street from the tram stop towards her flat. This time, her fingers were laced through his. She hadn’t wanted to let go since he’d first taken her hand.

  “What’s that?” Nick asked.

  “Did you…I mean, when you were with Kristina, did you guys…well, you know.”

  He squeezed her hand and gave her that side smile. “No.”

  “But do you still like her? You did kiss her…”

  “You have nothing to worry about.”

  “Promise?”

  “I promise.”

  And since she knew him so well, she knew a promise wasn’t something she had to ponder. If he said something was true, she knew he’d keep his word. She trusted him more than anyone on earth, except maybe her mother. He wasn’t some bastard in disguise, who might lie and cheat and run off with her friend. It was Nick. He’d already passed all the tests. She’d seen how he treated girls, had gotten sloppy drunk in front of him, had even brought him home to meet her mother.

  “I’m going to have to tell my mom,” she groaned. “What am I going to tell her?”

  “That you’re madly in love with a dashing Italian?”

  She rolled her eyes. “She’d never believe that. But she’d probably believe me if I told her about you.”

  Nick detached his hand to cover his heart. “Oh, the cruelty,” he said. “Your words wound like daggers.”

  “You’re such a dork,” she said, reaching for him again, almost desperate for his touch.

  This time, he draped his arm over her shoulder, and she linked her fingers through his as they walked. “You can tell your mom that you almost lost the best thing that ever happened to you, and you were so devastated by the thought that you crawled on your knees before me and begged for the chance to share even the tiniest sliver of my heart.”

  “Oh my God, you’re so ridiculous,” she said, hip-checking him so he almost stepped off the walkway into the road. She pulled him back, closing their separation.

  “But I can see how you wouldn’t want to tell her the whole truth,” Nick said. “You can abbreviate it so you look better. I mean, you probably don’t want to tell her you stole me from some other woman. You little homewrecker.”

  “You’re seriously deluded,” she said. “You probably only went out with Kristina to make me jealous, anyway.”

  “Did it work?”

  “You pig,” she cried, jabbing her elbow into his ribs.

  “Ow,” he said, grabbing his side with his free hand. “Now you’re a homewrecker and a spousal abuser.”

  “Did you really go out with her to make me jealous?”

  “You’re told me to,” he protested. “I was only obeying orders. And besides, I told you I wasn’t a nice guy.”

  “You got that right,” she grumbled.

  “Maybe next time you’ll listen.”

  “Oh really?” she asked, looking up at him from under her lashes. “What are you going to do, spank me?”

  He laughed and slowed as they reached her flat. “Only if you want me to,” he said, pulling her into his arms.

  “I don’t want you to go,” she said, suddenly serious.

  “I don’t, either.”

  “So come inside.”

  “No, my place.”

  They continued on, now silent. Cynthia’s stomach trembled as she thought about what came next. She wasn’t really sure what she wanted the first night. Maybe they’d just sleep again. Her mind reeled with awful possibilities. Maybe sex would be unbearably awkward. They’d been friends for a long time, but that didn’t mean anything. All the easiness of their friendship might disappear the moment their clothes came off. Maybe he was terrible in bed.

  Maybe he’d think she was terrible in bed.

  They passed the café, closed now, with a cat sitting on the step, its tail swishing b
ack and forth as it watched their approach. Cynthia wanted to disappear into the alleyway with it, to turn and run back to her flat and snuggle up in her bed and think about Nick. The reality of him, of them together, was too much suddenly—too momentous, too fragile. What if she messed it all up?

  “Are you sure about this?” Nick asked. “You don’t want to…I don’t know…go out a few times first?”

  Her shoulders sank in relief, knowing he was having the same doubts, that he wasn’t completely sure of himself, either. She laughed nervously. “We’ve known each other for years,” she said. “I’ve farted in front of you. I think we’re past the getting-to-know-you stage.”

  “Way to set the mood.”

  “I think we can skip the pretense of mystery.”

  “I don’t know,” he said. “There are lots of things we don’t know about each other.”

  “I can only think of one thing.”

  Somehow, that made the one thing have even more meaning, and tension coursed through her again. Her muscles trembled with shivers despite the warmth of Nick beside her. When they reached his building, he put a finger over his lips, then slipped his keys into the lock. Before opening the door, he turned to her and slid his arms around her, pulling her into him. “I love you, Cynthia Arevalo.”

  Her stomach dropped all the way to her toes.

  “You do?” she whispered.

  “Of course I do,” he said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I had to follow you halfway around the world for you to notice, but it was worth it.”

  “I love you, too.” She stood up on tiptoes and closed her eyes, and his lips found hers, warm and hungry.

  After a minute, he pulled away. “Whatever happens between us, that’s not going to change,” he said. “I hope you know that.”

  The fact that he was unsure about it, too, that he must have been wondering how it was going to work, made her more certain. “You’re the best friend ever,” she said. “And you make me better. But I want to be more. I’m ready for this.”

  “Okay.” He bit his lip, but she could see the smile trying to escape. He grabbed her hand, opened the door, and pulled her inside. They tiptoed up the stairs to his room and closed the door quietly behind them.

  A nervous giggle escaped Cynthia, but it broke off abruptly when Nick slid his hand around the small of her back and crushed her against him. “I want you so much,” he whispered, pushing her back against the door. His lips brushed hers, softly at first and then harder. Her lips parted and his tongue slid against hers, warm and urgent, and she was glad for his hands holding her up because she thought she might melt into a puddle on the floor if he let her go.

  She pressed her hips against his, wrapping her arms around his neck and lifting one foot to rub the back of his calf. He inhaled sharply and gripped her thigh, rocking his hips against hers. Searching deeper into his kiss, she locked her leg behind his while he slid his hand up under her hair and cradled her head and pushed her against the door again.

  Finally, he broke from the kiss and trailed his lips along her jawline to her ear, sending tingles down her spine, coursing over her body to the soles of her feet. His lips brushed tiny kisses down her neck until her whole body was shaking with anticipation. She gripped the bottom of his shirt and tugged it up, her fingers finding new wonder in the warmth of his skin. But she wanted more, and after a minute, she pushed away from the door and started unbuttoning his shirt. He tugged it off over his head and tossed it in the corner, then quickly added his undershirt to the heap.

  Cynthia peeled off her own shirt and started tugging down her skirt.

  “Are we really doing this?” he asked, but he was already unbuttoning his jeans and slipping off his shoes at the same time.

  “We’re really doing this,” she said, half laughing. She dropped her skirt, kicked it off with her sandals, and gave a little cry of surprise when Nick tackled her and dove onto the bed.

  “Shhh,” he said, but he was laughing, too. He kissed her again, smoothing her hair back and kissing her cheeks and forehead, then her mouth again.

  She wrapped her legs around him, pressing up into his kiss, a thrill of electricity rocking through her body when her bare belly touched his. So much of her skin pressed against his, so much nakedness against his. He pressed up on his elbows, pulling away, like he’d heard her thoughts.

  “Are you absolutely sure?” he asked, smoothing her hair back again. “Because I don’t want to get more naked if we’re going to stay just friends. It might be awkward later.”

  “I think we’ve already crossed that bridge.”

  He stood and dropped his jeans, tugging them off one foot and then the other. “Condom?” he asked as he kicked his jeans aside.

  “I’m on birth control.”

  “I haven’t been with anyone since my last test,” he said. “I’m clean.”

  “Good,” she said, pushing herself up to sitting. “I want to really feel you.” She pulled him towards her, smiling up at him as she hooked her index fingers into the waistband of his boxers. She tugged the elastic and peeked inside. “Ooh, papi,” she said. “Come to mami.”

  He laughed and slid one knee onto the bed beside her, trying to push her back, but she slipped his boxers down and stood to slide out of her own underwear. When Nick reached for her again, she turned and pushed him down on the bed before straddling him. She let her hair fall over her shoulder and skim across his chest. “I got you where I want you now,” she said, smiling down at him as she grasped his wrists and pulled his hands above his head. “But I guess I can’t call you little Italy anymore.”

  She leaned down and nipped at his lip, pulling it between her teeth and sliding her tongue along it. He was breathing hard, and she arched her back and pressed her belly against his again, moving on top of him while the tension coiled tighter and tighter between her legs until it threatened to explode. Just when she thought she couldn’t wait another minute, Nick wrenched his hands free, slid his arm around the small of her back, and sat up. “Put it in,” he growled, and she reached for him, trembling all the way up the lengths of her thighs.

  She wrapped her hand around him and guided him in, sinking down onto him and breathing out a sigh of relief when he was inside at last. For the first moments, she moved slowly, adjusting to his size inside her, then pushing him back on the bed again so she could move faster. With his hands on her hips, he helped her keep her rhythm until she was breathless, reaching for her conclusion.

  “Now you,” she whispered, and he flipped over onto her so fast it was like he’d waiting for her command. He pushed in hard, deep enough to cause a twinge of pain. It must have shown in her face, because he asked if she was okay, but she grabbed him before he could pull back. “Don’t stop,” she gasped.

  He braced on his elbows and moved on top of her, his motions deliberate and powerful, until she felt herself slipping over the edge. She bit down on her lip, hard, to keep herself silent as the waves rolled over her, wracking her body like a sob of relief. She was still going when he gave his final throb inside her and a rush of warmth filled her.

  She lay still after, enjoying the tremors traveling through Nick’s body and into hers. When she ran her palm down his back, he shivered, sweat already cooling on his skin. She inhaled the scent of him, the salty smell of his sweat intoxicating her.

  “Wow,” she said, breaking the silence at last. “If I’d known what you were working with, I would have said screw being friends a long time ago. Literally.”

  “Now you tell me.”

  “Guess you should have told me about your moves when I asked.”

  “You should have told me all I had to do to impress you was get naked.”

  “Count me impressed,” she said, running her hands over the curve of his shoulders, down the swoop of his back, over his butt, along the ridge of his thighs. “And by the way, where have you been hiding all these muscles?”

  He laughed. “I was an athlete in high school. I haven’t
quite lost all of it yet.”

  “Lucky me,” she said, grinning up at him. “I better take advantage of you while I have the chance, then.”

  “Give me, like, ninety more seconds.”

  “Damn,” she said. “That’s all?”

  “What, I’m twenty-one, and it’s been…way too long.”

  She pushed at his chest until he rolled off her. “Alright, get the blankets,” she said, gathering his pillows in front of her and walking to the window. She smiled back over her shoulder as she pushed aside the curtains. “Well, come on. What are you waiting for?”

  Chapter Nineteen

  The next morning, when she woke on the balcony, Cynthia could hardly believe it was real. It was so incredibly weird, and yet, so incredibly sensible at the same time.

  “Want breakfast?” Nick asked. He lay on his pillow while Cynthia used his arm for her pillow.

  “Since when can you cook?”

  “Are you kidding? I’m the breakfast champion.”

  “At least you didn’t say you’re the breakfast of champions.”

  He grinned and pulled her closer to kiss her forehead. “So how about it? My great-great-half aunt or something taught me how to make a mean frittata.”

  “Oh really? Have you seen her again?”

  “Yeah, like five times. Where have you been?”

  “Um, you were shunning me, remember? And while we’re on that, did you take Kristina to meet them?”

  He grinned and leaned up on his elbow. “Are you still jealous?”

  “No,” she protested. But after a second, she couldn’t resist adding, “But did you?”

  “No,” he said, still smiling way too big. “Want me to take you?”

  “Maybe,” she said. “Are they cool?”

  “Yeah, totally,” he said. “But they don’t speak much English. It’s a pretty hilarious situation every time. We must look like we’re playing the world’s longest game of charades. Probably why they settled for teaching me to cook. They can show me better than tell me.”