by PJ Sharon
He nudged me back and there it was—that wise-guy grin. “I think I’ll make it through without bawling, thanks.”
When we finally reached Vatican City, the two of us were laughing and joking, in no small part thanks to Maddie who had engaged us in a conversation about the attire of the ancient Romans and how their thigh high garments were likely a precursor to the miniskirts worn in her day. “Funny how fashion always seems to come back around,” she remarked. “But my Lord, how clothing is getting skimpier with every generation.” She nodded at a teenaged girl wearing a mini that barely covered her butt.
The line to get into the Vatican snaked on for what seemed like forever, and the hot sun filled the cloudless blue sky overhead. Maddie fanned herself with her hat and finished off her bottle of water before the main entrance came into view. I didn’t mind the wait so much, as it gave me time to check out the Basilica’s classic Renaissance and Baroque architecture. And to people watch. Across St. Peter’s Square, past the massive obelisk made of marble, and in front of the Metro station, several shady-looking teens congregated, no doubt dealing or pick-pocketing unsuspecting tourists. Nearby stood a vendor advertising water and Italian ice.
“Ethan and I will go get some ice cream and a couple more bottles of water,” I said, glancing at Ethan conspiratorially. “We’ll be right back, Maddie.” Before she had a chance to protest, I’d grabbed his hand and dragged him out of line and through the crowded square. My head spun as I took in the moment. Bernini’s Colonnade, the monument erected in honor of the square’s designer stood center stage. I soaked in the beauty surrounding me and felt more happy and excited than I had in a long while. I was free and in Rome—with a hot guy.
“Grab us some of those Italian ices. I’ll be right back,” I said, pulling away.
“Wait! You shouldn’t...”
But I’d already disappeared around the corner and down the steps into the dark recesses of the Metro Station where I’d seen a couple of teenagers about my age duck out of sight a few minutes earlier. As I suspected, they were off in the shadows, exchanging a few Euros, one speaking in broken English, the other, an American boy who was tucking a couple of rolled cigarettes into his pocket. They both stopped abruptly as I approached.
I looked around to make sure I wasn’t drawing attention, and then smiled amiably at the two boys. “Can I get in on some of that action?”
The two regarded me warily and then the American darted off, leaving the local boy to shift nervously. It took a few misunderstood phrases between us for me to walk away with a grossly overpriced joint, but I’d gotten what I came for. Feeling smug that I hadn’t been kidnapped, assaulted, or arrested, I returned to Ethan’s side in front of the vendor’s cart.
“What was that all about?” he asked, annoyed and obviously worried.
“Just a little exploring. I wanted to see what Rome’s underbelly looked like.”
“Well, don’t do that again. There are pick-pockets and thieves around here. It isn’t safe for tourists to go off alone—especially someone like you. Human traffickers could have...”
“But they didn’t,” I interjected. “And what’s with the someone like me remark? Do you mean a stupid American girl?” I gave him my best unappreciative glare.
He handed me an ice cream. “NO. Actually I meant young and pretty.” The annoyance faded from his eyes and sincere worry took over. “I don’t know what I would do if anything bad happened to you.”
“Oh—sorry.” My cheeks burned and I gratefully took the ice cream, feeling once again as if I’d gone too far. “We’d better get back to Maddie,” I said, not wanting to ponder the possibility that he was right. It had been stupid of me to risk everything—including my life—for a joint. My only defense was that I’d been caught up in the moment, and I’d seen an opportunity I couldn’t resist. It wasn’t the first time I’d acted without thinking—a truth about myself I wasn’t sure I wanted to face.
It took another half hour before we finally entered the Vatican Museum, but by that time, Maddie was looking refreshed. In some respects, my grandmother seemed young and vibrant, like one of her bright hats or floral tops. At other times, she appeared old and wilted like a plant gone un-watered for too many days. For the moment, my concerns faded when Maddie squealed like a teenager over the exquisite artwork before us.
The museum’s treasures were displayed in a series of galleries that would stretch four-and-a-half miles end-to-end. We followed Giuseppe, our guide, through each gallery, every one more amazing than the last. Ornate archways and carved marble moldings overhead were lined with giant sculptures of deities, saints, and angels. The rich, burgundy carpeting underfoot and the divinely inspired artwork on the vaulted ceilings made me feel as if I’d been transported to another time and place, lost in a maze of antiquity and beauty. We crossed mosaic stone and marble floors that came alive with color. Gold and burnished bronze statues gave the place a warm feel. At the same time, all the stone and marble, and the cavernous ceilings kept the space feeling cool and dry. Overwhelmed by the sheer volume of the history, I captured picture after picture, certain I’d never retain the full experience. A quick glance at Ethan, and I was happy to see he was as enthralled as me and Maddie—his father’s betrayal momentarily forgotten.
When we came into the Sistine Chapel, I was awestruck. Words failed me as I craned my neck to see in all directions at once. The voices of the tour guides could be heard above the hushed whispers of the crowd, and a sense of reverence pervaded the scene in a way I’d never experienced before. Michelangelo’s most inspiring frescos arched overhead. I felt dizzy as my head spun to capture the overwhelming beauty of it all. I imagined the painter, over fifteen hundred years ago, lying on his back on ancient scaffolding, measuring every minute detail and line that came off his brushstrokes. The magnitude of the job boggled my mind. The patience it had taken, the passion for his art, the amazing fortitude required to see the job finally completed.
“I can’t believe one man did this whole thing in only four years,” I whispered as I leaned into Ethan, who seemed to be in a daze as he took it all in.
“Makes you look at four years of college a little differently, doesn’t it?” His head tipped further back as he turned in a slow circle.
I took what he said to mean that both of us could learn from the artist’s dedication and discipline. Maybe it was time I stopped looking at college as some sort of exile or punishment—a place full of unknown dangers and overwhelming responsibilities—and start seeing it as the opportunity to create something amazing for my future.
Chapter 21
“Get whatever you like,” Maddie said as she dozed in a chair waiting for me to decide on a new dress. The sales clerks brought out the works, including shoes, bangles, and bling, making me feel like a princess or a supermodel on a runway as I tried on one designer outfit after another. Maddie perked up occasionally and nodded or grinned in agreement about what she liked or didn’t, and Ethan goaded me on to try one more. He was either the most tolerant boy I’d ever met, or he actually enjoyed our company. I was definitely enjoying his.
We shopped ourselves out until Maddie called it quits just in time to meet the tour bus and head back to the ship for dinner.
“Are you planning on spending the whole evening in the bathroom? My blood sugar is dropping as we speak.” Maddie’s voice sounded muffled through the door. I’d slipped one outfit into the pile without first modeling it. When I came out of the bathroom, she raised a brow. “Was it your aim to pass for my thirty year-old daughter instead of my granddaughter?”
I’d picked out a short leather skirt and a frilly, capped-sleeve, fitted blouse that barely covered my belly post. The scooped neckline showcased more cleavage than I’d known I had.
“This is what all the girls my age are wearing.” I tugged the shirt down an inch.
Maddie let out a sigh and continued to fuss with her jacket in the mirror, finding a tiny piece of lint on the shoulder to pluck at.
With the red, open-toed pumps I bought to go with the outfit, I did look years older than my age—an effect I was sure wouldn’t go unnoticed by Ethan, but a niggle of doubt crept in at Maddie’s disapproval. Would Ethan think I was trying too hard? Would it make me seem desperate...or worse...slutty? I suddenly had the urge to change clothes, but before I could decide, Maddie pushed me out the door, citing what bad manners it would be to arrive late for dinner.
My fears fled when I saw the appreciative look on Ethan’s face.
“Wow,” escaped his lips as he approached our table and pulled out a chair. His green eyes shimmered in the ambient light, and his short hair was nicely gelled and spiked on top. He wore a blazer and collared shirt with nice fitting jeans, and had intentionally forgotten to shave the past few days, giving him a mysterious dark shadow over his upper lip and on his chin. I nearly giggled out loud but held it back, hoping to appear cooler than I felt.
“Right back at you,” I said, smiling as he unraveled his fork and knife from his napkin and then laid the white linen across his lap.
“You both look quite metropolitan,” Maddie said, grinning. She ordered herself a bottle of wine and we waited for the others who would be joining our table for dinner. Tonight’s seating included Ben and David, who Maddie had become great friends with after the magic show and a few nights of ballroom dancing. Another couple settled in at our table, bringing Maddie to life with their introduction as Mary and Joe and their admission that yes, they were Jewish—apparently part of a Jews for Jesus convention on board. Conversation bounced back and forth and I tuned out the repetition of each person’s life story, how many kids and grandkids they each had, and what they had all done before retirement. Even the delicious flavors of the gourmet foods couldn’t take my attention away from what mattered most—the super cute and awesome smelling guy sitting next to me.
After dinner, Maddie excused herself, the wilted expression returning. “I don’t know what’s gotten into me,” she said. I’ll have to start taking some vitamins or something. I’m completely exhausted after that long day of sightseeing and shopping. I’m going to run off to bed. You two go and enjoy the show. There’s a wonderful cabaret act in the Vista Lounge.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to come with us?” Ethan asked politely. I wanted to elbow him in the ribs. All I could think about was being alone with him again, and the smell of his manly scented soap made my mouth water.
“No, I’d rather hit the hay early. They have a tai chi class tomorrow morning I want to attend. You two have fun—but behave,” she added sternly, eyeing me like she knew exactly what was on my mind. She turned to Ethan and threatened with a wag of her index finger. “I trust my granddaughter is safe in your care.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Ethan responded, a charming and dimpled grin covering his face as if he were the most trustworthy guy on the planet.
I ground my teeth and sighed. Maddie gave me an eye of warning one more time and turned toward the elevator leading up to deck four. I grabbed Ethan’s hand and pulled him in the opposite direction.
“Follow me. I have a surprise for you.”
Ethan checked over his shoulder to see Maddie disappear as the doors closed. “Should I be scared?”
“C’mon. We’re on our own for the night. Let’s have a little fun.” I led him up the main staircase and up several more flights until we reached the top level of the ship. We burst out into the warm air, the breeze raising my hair and taking my breath away. I laughed as Ethan picked up his pace to stay with me. We rounded the pool and hot tub, which were empty by this time. A few crew members passed us by and headed for the stairs down, leaving us alone on the highest deck of the ship, looking out over the dark night sky and endless expanse of water. Lights shone far in the distance, outlining the coast of Italy. We would be at sea for a day before coming into our next port of call in Dubrovnik, Croatia.
“Hey...” Ethan stopped and caught me in his arms, ducking us into the shadows of the lifeboats. “Did I tell you how pretty you look tonight?” His eyes sparkled under the starlight and the angle of his jaw appeared sharper and more masculine than I’d noticed before. This close, with his warm breath on my skin and his arms encircling my waist, I saw a man before me and not the boy I’d met only days ago.
My cheeks heated and I bit my lower lip. “I think the ‘wow’ earlier was sufficient.”
A grin spread. “That obvious, huh?”
It took all I had in me, but I pulled away, anxious to see if Ethan really accepted me for who I was and not only as a hot girl in an Italian leather mini on an exotic vacation—someone he was never going to see again after this trip. A crack edged its way into my heart. I shut out the painful sensation and focused instead on what seemed a plausible cure for my impending heartbreak. I checked to make sure we were alone and pulled out the joint.
Ethan’s eyes grew big. “Are you crazy? If we get caught...”
“We won’t. Don’t worry. There’s no one else around.” Having confiscated matches from the smoker’s lounge, I lit the joint and took a big hit, letting the burn in my chest expand and holding the smoke until it made me cough. I let it go slowly, handing the joint over to Ethan.
He eyed me warily, scoping out the area, on the lookout for other passengers and crew. “You are nuts,” he whispered. After a moment’s hesitation and a raised brow of challenge from me, he took his turn and inhaled deeply, bursting into a coughing fit.
“Take it easy there, killer,” I said, chuckling softly. I took another hit and passed it back to him.
“I told you I don’t smoke. It would kind of interfere with Lacrosse. I need all the lung capacity I can get,” he said, choking as he held in another hit.
“I wish I was that committed to something,” I replied with a shrug. Then changing the subject away from me, I asked, “Has your dad ever seen you play?” I regretted the question when I saw a hurt look darken Ethan’s eyes.
“He used to come to games once in a while when I was younger. He hasn’t been around much the past year or two.”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up a sore subject. Tonight is supposed to be about helping you forget about him.” After another sharp lungful, I handed him the joint one more time. He took it, taking another deep inhale and letting it out slowly, his eyes narrowing against the burn of the smoke.
“Nothing for you to be sorry about. My dad’s the one who let me down...again.”
After a few more hits each, the two of us relaxed. “I wish I could do something to take the hurt away,” I said.
Ethan rested his head on one of the lifeboats hanging down behind us. “I’m done,” he said, waving off another hit. He closed his eyes as if contemplating the meaning of life or looking as if he was ready to drop into a deep sleep. I traced the outline of his jaw in the shadows and ran a finger over his ear, drawing a sliver of a smile to his lips. “I’m totally stoned,” he said, sounding not at all like the put together guy I had come to know so well.
“Lightweight.” I laughed, took one more hit, and snubbed out the joint. I slipped the remainder into a little baggie and dropped it and the matches into my clutch for another time.
Ethan popped to his feet and grabbed my hand, pulling me up from the deck.
“We’ll see who’s a lightweight.”
Chapter 22
Just as I’d hoped, Ethan led me to his cabin stateroom, a match to the one Maddie and I were staying in, but slightly larger and nicer. We each sat on the edge of one of the neatly made double beds, facing each other. As happy as I was to be there, I suddenly felt like a fish out of water—too late to jump back in and hide under the nearest rock ledge.
“Mind if I fix myself a drink?” Ethan surprised me as he popped up off the bed and nervously went about rummaging through the mini bar. He grabbed several small bottles of vodka and brought out a bottle of tonic water. “What can I get you?”
“Ginger ale is fine if you have it.” My stomach had taken a turn t
oward queasy as soon as he mentioned drinking. He handed me the soda, his fingers brushing mine and sending a tingle up my arm.
“Thanks.” I smiled and focused my attention on how I was going to get Ethan to go back on his promise to Maddie and kiss me again. As much as I knew it was probably a bad idea, the thought of his lips on mine and his hands on my skin had every nerve in my body strung tight with longing and anticipation.
He finished mixing a drink for himself. “You sure this isn’t a problem for you?”
“No big deal,” I said relieved that he asked and hadn’t tried to convince me to drink with him.
Looking as nervous as I felt, Ethan took a long swig, set his drink on the bedside table, and kicked off his shoes. He hopped onto the pillows, loosening his shirt from his pants and resting his hands behind his head.
“So what do you want to talk about—and it can’t be anything depressing,” he added, stuffing another pillow behind him.
I scooted back, dropped my chunky heels to the floor with a thud and fluffed my pillows so I could sit sideways and watch Ethan. I studied him for a moment, and suddenly envied him—so sure of himself and completely at ease in his skin, whereas I was a bundle of nerves—worrying that my skirt was too short, my hair too boyish, and wondering if my makeup was intact.
He closed his eyes and the hint of a smile curved his lips as if he was thinking of something pleasant. It was nice to see him relaxed. The hard edges of his features had softened, making my heart melt a fraction more. His biceps bulged and the sinewy muscles of his shoulders pressed through his shirt, the smooth skin of his chest peeking out from the now opened buttons. My mouth went dry.