Draw Me In

by Megan Squires

  “Done staring?” he grinned, all toothy, lips curled, as he slid into the driver’s chair and shut the door once inside.

  I shrugged my shoulders to my ears as my eyes raked over every inch of him. “No, probably not. I plan on strategically walking a few steps behind you today, just so I can look at that yummy behind of yours.”

  “Wow. Are you for real?” Leo chuckled audibly at the same time he dipped his head down to avoid eye contact out of what I could only assume was embarrassment. “Your ability to be utterly honest is very refreshing, Julie.”

  I smile, everything within me content just to rest in this moment.

  The vehicle purred to life as Leo turned the keys over in the ignition. His hand rested on the stick shift between us and I really wanted to drape my own hand over his, but I figured that might get us into an accident. I’d only driven in manual once, and that resulted in a terrible mishap with a turkey and enough stray feathers to construct a boa for each one of the Radio City Music Hall Rockettes. I planned to leave the driving up to Leo for today. Plus, this was good. Him in control, me in the passenger’s seat.

  “So what kind of car is this anyway? It’s really nice.” I trailed my fingernail along the interior, admiring the suppleness of the leather and the ornate details encrusting the dash.

  “It’s a Lamborghini Aventador.”

  That sounded expensive. And everything about the vehicle felt expensive. Honestly, I’d forgotten just how supposedly rich Leo was because he didn’t ever talk about it or toss his money around like many of the men in his financial position. Even the way he’d just humbly told me that he owned one of the world’s finest sports cars didn’t fit the wealthy exterior that any other person in his situation would flaunt for all it was worth. And I assumed it was worth a great deal.

  The road curved under our tires as we sped down the two-lane highway toward Florence. I could see the crests of the buildings I loved so much—that Renaissance architecture peeking above the hills growing closer with each mile. Like twisting a lens to pull the image closer. I could almost touch it.

  Everything was tangible when I was around Leo. My feelings. My heart. It wasn’t just this organ encased within my chest, essential in keeping the blood coursing throughout my circulatory system. It had become this life-giving entity that reminded me of the way Leo made me feel. It sped up when I saw him. It slowed when I dreamt of him. It skipped when I kissed him. I’d never felt so completely whole before. As though everything in me beat for him. Goodness, maybe that wasn’t just my heart anymore. Maybe it was my soul.

  “Here we are,” Leo said after our silent drive where neither of us said a word. Our content energy pulsing through the car swallowed up the need for mindless chatter, so we just sat there, enveloped in that comfortable stillness. Being with Leo like this made my mind race forward thirty years, this same quiet surrounding us, just a little more gray and a few extra wrinkles hinting at the years shared together. It was like déjà vu in reverse, and I prayed that someday I’d be able to experience the reality of this hopeful dream of mine.

  As the car slowed and while I continue to fantasize about our future, Leo slipped it into a parking space and withdrew the keys from the ignition. Rotating his upper half toward me, he leaned in for a quick, unexpected kiss and said, “I’m not taking you to any museums because like I said before, it’s my birthday and I don’t want any competition.” His mouth hovered over mine as he spoke and I felt the breath of his words. He even tasted unbelievable.

  “Just so you know,” I said, cocking a brow, “you’ve obliterated the competition, Leo. Not that there was any to begin with.”

  He pulled his face even closer to mine. My chest contracted and expanded rapidly, his close proximity a trigger to my breathing and heart rate. “Which I find so incredibly hard to believe. I know I’ve said it before, but you really are—or at least should be—every guy’s fantasy.” His lips pressed to mine and after he withdrew them, he touched my bottom lip lightly with the pad of his finger. “You’re definitely mine.”

  “You fantasize about me?” I spoke against his skin.

  “Let’s just say my mind has an overactive imagine when it comes to you.”

  That only encouraged me and I teased, “Let’s just say I can be pretty active if you want me to be.”

  Leo laughed at me as he exited the car and came around to my side to open the door and pull me out. I stepped onto the cobble surface, toe first, trying to make my sleek legs look longer and more enticing. He caught on, his gaze landing mid-thigh and hovering there for a noticeable pause. I could hear him swallow. I made a mental note of the newly discovered power my legs had over him.

  We walked hand in hand through the narrow streets with their towering buildings hemming us in on all sides.

  I loved how small this ancient city made me feel. I knew it was an odd thing to say, but I liked that I got absorbed into the mix of the history and the modernity and the cafes and the statues and the people and the bustle. It wasn’t like New York where you easily felt lost in everything that took place around you if you weren’t careful.

  No, in Florence you didn’t get lost, you became a part of it. A part of the culture, a part of the experience. For me, it was the feeling of home. Of being exactly where you belonged. Some type of synchrony where your heart and your head and your hands and your feet all matched up in their purpose and will. Like you were meant to be here in this exact moment in time. I can’t explain it any other way than that.

  “Just around this corner.” Leo nodded, indicating the alley up ahead. The streets had opened up into the Piazza del Duomo, and we were suddenly right in the heart of historic Florence, walled in with history centuries old in the form of bricks and mortar.

  The massive cathedral with its gothic design was breathtaking as usual. The pale pink and green marble façade drew my attention as I craned my neck to appreciate the rich detail and admire the massive dome that peeked out from behind the front of the building. It was a masterpiece of architectural ingenuity, and I had to pay my respects to its many phenomenal creators by pausing to adore their handiwork.

  It made me wonder if they had any idea just what they were a part of when they designed it. Did they picture these throngs of people stopping to stare, hundreds of years after the fact, at something they’d physically created? History was funny that way. We often never realized our future impact until it was too late. I hoped somehow, beyond the scope of what I actually knew to be possible, that Leo’s mom had a sense of the appreciation I felt for her and all that she had poured into her son’s life. I wasn’t even sure if you could express your gratitude for someone no longer living, but I attempted to do it on so many different levels as my eyes took in the gorgeous cathedral in front of us.

  “The Basilica di Santa Maria del Fiore,” Leo whispered in my ear. Shivers burst onto my flesh and snaked down my spine as he broke through my thoughts. I instinctively closed my eyes to drink in his words and warmth. “Wouldn’t that be a phenomenal place to be married?”

  With my eyes still shut, I smiled and answered, “Yes, but I’d rather get married at your vineyard.”

  Holy ever-loving crap.

  Maybe he wasn’t talking about us getting married. Of course he wasn’t. That was absurd. Panic settled deep in my stomach, an acidic betrayal between my mouth and my brain once again. Burning me. Humiliating me.

  “Agreed.”

  “Wha—?”

  Squeezing my hand so tightly my ring dug into the flesh under my knuckle, Leo yanked me forward, nearly skipping through the people gathered below the cathedral to stare up at it and take those customary tourist photographs. His paces were quick. I trailed behind at arm’s length as we wove through the labyrinth clusters of people.

  “Over here. This is where I wanted to take you.”

  There were a few first floor shops off of a tiny street. A yarn store. One that sold Florentine football jerseys. Another small gold shop with jewels and diamonds twi
nkling in the window display. Then, at the end of the alley, just up ahead on the right, was a gelateria, much like the dozen others I’d seen during my travels to this city.

  “This shop has been here for years,” Leo said, his shoulder pressing into mine as he tilted his head toward me. His scarf swished along his neck and I could see my own reflection in the amber tint of his sunglasses. “As a boy, my mom would bring me here every year for my birthday while Dad and Gio stayed at home baking the cake.” Talking about his mother brought a glint to Leo’s eyes, which reflected both a pain and love that I could see even through the shaded glasses covering them. Just viewing that emotion etched on his features automatically made me feel those same two emotions within my own soul, like he’d tossed them over to me. “She’d joke saying, ‘Let them eat cake!’ because she knew I didn’t like it. Instead, she always brought me here.”

  “I think I love your mother, Leo.” It was true. Her humor. Her adoration for her son. She’d left her words on a page and also in Leo’s memory and the more I heard them spoken or even read, the more real she became to me. I truly believed the world and all of its inhabitants lost out on such an inspiring soul when she passed, and I even mourned the fact that I’d never get to meet her here in this life. I think we would have hit it off.

  “She was easy to love.” Leo’s voice was pure and rich and he cleared his throat before speaking again, some sort of preparation for the words. “And so are you, Julie. Truthfully, without sounding all creepy and slightly Freudian, the two of you have a lot of similarities. It’s probably why I’m so compelled by you, quite honestly.”

  Maybe it should, but it didn’t at all seem strange for Leo to make these comparisons. If anything, it was the most flattering compliment anyone had ever given me: to be compared to someone they loved on the very deepest level. I couldn’t think of a greater honor. And I couldn’t think of anyone I would rather hear those words from than Leo himself.

  “Anyway. I’ve said too much, once again.”

  I shook my head, confused. “Once again? When have you said too much before?”

  “When have I not said too much, Julie?” His brow tightened over his light eyes, a shadow diminishing their luster. “You draw my words and emotion out of me like no one ever has before. I don’t do this.” He waved his hands frantically in the space between us, back and forth in a nervous flutter. “I don’t share my feelings. I don’t lay it all out there. But with you? It all just spews out of me.”

  “I like that I make you spew.” That sounded gross. “I like that you tell me what you’re thinking, Leo.” Much better. “I need that from you—to know you feel exactly same way about me.” I walked my fingers up his chest as I turned to him and gently placed my lips onto his. Even though he shrugged back in surprise initially, Leo quickly joined in and pulled my lower lip into his mouth. With his hands wrapped around my back, he gripped me and urged me closer to his body as his tongue slid in with soft, tender movements that challenged my own to do the same. And melted my heart. And stopped my breathing.

  Heat pooled in my belly as he pressed me up against the wall. The stone was cold against my bare shoulders and the disparity in temperature between Leo’s body and the wall first ran chills down to my toes, then blew my skin up with a flush of warmth. I was coated in thousands of goose bumps that layered every inch of my exposed flesh. It was almost too much sensation to be felt in such a public setting. Almost.

  As he drew back slowly, taking my lip with him between his teeth until our heads were far enough apart that we couldn’t stay connected like this, he murmured in a raspy, strangled breath, “You’re going to make me say it before you’re ready to hear it.”

  I knew there weren’t any nearby railway stations, but that’s exactly what sounded in my head: a freight train barreling toward us at breakneck speed. Your heart couldn’t physically leave your chest, but mine had. It leapt into my throat, then took up residence in my ears, jamming out with my eardrums in a garage band-worthy beat that I figured even Leo could hear, too.

  “What am I not ready to hear, Leo?” I said each word in staccato, right along with the pounding in my head like it was a metronome directing my speech.

  “That I’m in love with you.”

  My air got trapped in my chest. For some indiscernible length of time, I froze—not moving, not speaking, not even thinking. Everything in the world came to a stop. The cosmos were thrown into utter chaos. For a brief moment, I wondered how it was possible for everyone around us to continue doing what they were doing when Leo had uttered those words that completely knocked my world off its axis.

  “Maybe I am ready,” I finally exhaled in challenge as I curled my fingers into his scarf and slowly reeled him closer. We stared. Searching and longing in our eyes. I couldn’t shake it, the way he made me feel, the things he made me do.

  So I didn’t try.

  My mouth slid onto his and the tips of our tongues met first as Leo’s fingers dove into my hair, pulling me to him as he clutched the base of my head with his large hand. He tasted like cinnamon and when he let out a ragged gasp as my chest pushed into his in an effort to get even closer, I savored that intoxicating hint of spice that flooded my mouth.

  No one had told me they loved me in that way before. Unsure, yet still willing to bear their emotions, not knowing if they would be fully reciprocated. Quite honestly, I think all of the past I love you’s I’d received had been I love you, too’s. I was quick to give my heart away, even quicker to declare that the exchange had taken place. I was always the first to say it, always the first to confess those three little words. I swear I could’ve even worn a nametag that read, “HELLO, my name is Julie and I love you,” for a few years there. I’d craved it, and sometimes in craving something, we lost control.

  But I hadn’t let myself do that with Leo. For as many other ways as I’d unintentionally attempted to sabotage things between us, I wasn’t about to go down in flames in an admission of unrequited love. But the thing was, it appeared as though it was absolutely requited. From what I could tell, feel and even taste on my lips, Leo’s heart beat just as strong for me as mine did for him.

  The dawning of this reality bordered on surreal, and I didn’t usually do surreal. I was a girl that was all about realism, but nothing about what we felt was realistic. It defied all rational thought, all logic and reason. Which only made it stronger because my past relationships normally didn’t operate this way. That things could be so different with Leo made it all the more true. He was my outlier, my anomaly. He stood apart from the rest in every best way imaginable.

  I loved him, and I was going to allow myself to feel that love, and to accept the love he offered me, too. We deserved this. This was our happiness that I’d spent all of my life pursuing.

  “Before you say anything back,” he began, running his palms up and down my arms. “I’m going to stuff your mouth full of stracciatella so you can’t accidentally utter something you’ll later regret.”

  I slugged him hard against his chest. “You cannot use ice cream as a gag order, Leo!”

  Ripping his sunglasses from his eyes, he shot me an accusatory look and gasped, “You did not just call it ice cream!” He couldn’t even keep his shock contained within him and his mouth fell open in response.

  “I believe I did.”

  “You insult the fine country of Italy as a whole by doing that, Julie. I suggest you take it back.”

  This was fun, teasing him in this way. I liked ruffling his feathers in this playful back and forth of flirtation. I was ready to ruffle some more. “I would take it back, if I honestly believed there was a real difference.”

  “There is a real difference.”

  “Pot-a-to, pot-ah-to. Ice cream, gelato. Same thing if you ask me.”

  “You have no clue what you’re talking about,” he huffed, though his voice was strained enough that I could sense this was actually getting him all riled up. The way he shifted his weight from one foot to the other
hinted at the frustrated energy buzzing through him.

  “Tom-a-to, tom-ah-to. Gelato. It’s all the same, really.”

  Leo’s lips pursed tightly. “You’re blurring so many lines here, Julie. There are distinctions when it comes to things like this.”

  I smirked. “Oh really? Because to me, it’s all just dessert.”

  He waited a moment with his blue eyes locked onto mine. I could see the slight squint in them as something formed just behind their surface, and without warning, he angled his chin slightly and shifted toward me steadily until our lips met. Rotating my own head the opposite direction, I softly pushed my mouth deeper onto his. There was that pressing in, then drawing away, shifting your angle and then pressing in again that defined a kiss, repeated a few times in intensity and length. It only lasted a few short seconds, but it was sweet and I savored the purity in it.

  “That was ice cream.” He swept one more chaste kiss across my mouth. “This,” he started, leaning down toward me so his eyes were so close it was hard to look into them. I couldn’t gain focus. “This is gelato.”

  It began the same. But things quickly changed as Leo’s lips took control of mine with a passion and heat that our previous kiss lacked. The force of his tongue at the opening of my mouth. The way it trailed along my full bottom lip to tease it open. My heart fluttered and drew sweat into my palms. We did that same dance as earlier, the pushing in and pulling back, but this time his warm tongue accompanied the movements, along with his palms that ran along the edges of my waist, lighting on the heaving curve of my breasts as they trailed up to my shoulders. While he continued ravaging my mouth with his, Leo slid his hands up toward my neck and gripped onto it, thumbs stroking along my jawline, using them to tilt and angle my head in the desired direction. I lost all sense of being as his tongue snaked in and out of my mouth and his lips sucked on my own to the point of numbness.