A Love Like Ours

by Micalea Smeltzer

  I shake my head. “I’m good here!” I call back.

  He’s not satisfied with that answer. He swims until he has to stand and then gets out, stalking toward me. He shakes his hair like a dog and water flies all over me.

  “Ollie!” I shriek as the cold water pierces my skin like a thousand tiny needle pricks.

  The jerk laughs like he’s oh-so-funny.

  I pull my now mostly-wet tank top away from my body. “Oh, it’s on.”

  I jump up and tackle him. He isn’t expecting it so he doesn’t have time to brace himself before he falls, which means I fall with him. His butt smacks to the ground and his back hits it a moment later, with me clinging to his wet chest like a spider monkey.

  “Did you just … tackle me?” He actually sounds surprised.

  I mock pout. “Well, someone had to knock you off your high horse. I figured it’d have to be me.”

  He tosses his head back and laughs uproariously. “Good one.”

  I roll off his chest and to my feet. He quickly follows. I start to move back to my spot to sit, but, of course, he’s not having that.

  Oh, no.

  The asshole winds his arm around my waist and drags me into the water kicking and screaming, soaking all of my clothes.

  “Ollie!” I shriek, trying to get away from him. It’s futile, though. There’s nothing I can do to salvage my wet clothes. I wrap my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist. “That was mean.” I frown, jutting my lower lip out like a five-year-old.

  He playfully bites at my lip and I giggle.

  “There it is,” he murmurs, smoothing his hand over the curve of my cheek before tangling his fingers in my hair.

  “What?” I ask, confused.

  “Your smile. You haven’t smiled since we got in the car to come here. I missed it. I need your smile more than I need the sun.”

  I poke the dimple in his cheek. “That’s cheesier than your Cheetos you love so much.”

  He grins and shrugs nonchalantly. “Yeah, I guess so. Since I haven’t had any Cheetos since we left I have to make up for it in other ways.”

  He proceeds to lick the side of my face because this is Ollie and he needs no reason to lick my face other than he wants to.

  I wrinkle my nose and then lick his face. With a grin I say, “I licked you, so you’re mine.”

  He laughs and his hands move to my waist below the water. “Guess that means you’re mine too. I like this new way of marking ownership.” Then he licks me again.

  We’re like two dogs peeing on the same spot over and over again to establish territory.

  Finally, I extract myself from his hold. “I should go lay these out to dry.”

  “But you’re coming back, right?” He gives me a look that says if I don’t he’ll get out and get me again.

  “Yes.” I laugh. “I’m already wet so I might as well enjoy it.”

  His voice drops low and he feigns a come hither look. “I bet I can make you wetter.”

  I shake my head and push off of him so I can swim away. I don’t have a comeback for that, so I opt to say nothing.

  I step out of the water and shimmy out of my wet clothes. I wring them out and lay them on a rock, hoping no one will take them. The worse that can happen is I have to ride back to town in my bikini. I grab Ollie’s shirt from where it was left and fold it to lay it beside my clothes.

  I head back into the water and swim over to Ollie. It’s really not as cold as it felt when he shook the water on me.

  Ollie gathers water in his mouth and shoots it into the air again.

  He’s floating on his back, exposing his stomach, and his most ticklish spot on his side. Seeing as how he dragged me into the water and got me soaking wet, I don’t feel one bit bad when I graze my fingers against his side.

  He shoots up out of the water, shrieking like a little girl and trying to get away from me. I swim after him, waving my fingers through the air tauntingly.

  “That’s what you get,” I cajole.

  “I’ll never mess with you again,” he pleads when I get dangerously close. “I promise to always be on my best behavior.”

  I snort. “Do you think I’m dumb?” I taunt and he shrieks again when I swipe my hand out like I’m going to touch him but I’m nowhere near him since he kicks his legs out in front of him, making sure to keep me at a safe distance.

  My laughter bubbles through the air as I try to get close enough to get him again, but I’m always too short. Eventually, I begin to tire and I give up.

  “All right, all right,” I chant. “I’m done.”

  My pants fill the air as I struggle to catch my breath.

  When he sees that I have given up and I’m not just bluffing, he swims over to me.

  I wrap my arms around his solid shoulders and hold on while I regain my breath. His legs tread the water and I can feel the current moving around us.

  “This place is kind of amazing, isn’t it?” he asks, looking up at the trees that sweep above us, shadowing the water beneath a canopy of leaves.

  I look above us and around. Birds sing in the trees and people laugh. It’s the music of the world and it’s my favorite sound.

  I nod. “Amazing,” I repeat, because there’s no other word for it.

  He swims over to the waterfall and I hold on, along for the ride.

  He pushes me up against the rock beneath the waterfall. It’s a slow one so it feels like I’m standing beneath the spray of a shower as it rains down on me.

  He looks at me with a playful glint in his eyes and lowers his head to kiss me.

  His lips mold to mine like mine were crafted for him to pillow his on. He angles my head back, deepening the kiss, and I moan, wrapping my legs around his waist. One of his hands presses against the rock by my head, helping to hold us up. His tongue sweeps into my mouth and I gasp. My fingers tangle in his hair and he groans when I tug on it.

  He kisses me until I can’t breathe, and when he pulls away, I gasp for air.

  He runs his thumb over my bottom lip.

  “I never thought I’d get to live out that fantasy,” he confesses.

  Stupidly, I ask, “What fantasy?” I’m still drunk from his kiss and can’t think straight.

  “To kiss you beneath a waterfall,” he admits.

  “You kind of kissed me in it,” I amend.

  He laughs. “Close enough to count.”

  Then he kisses me again.

  I really love that this fantasy is now a reality.

  Venice is beautiful.

  I think I’ve said that about every place we’ve been, but it’s true.

  The taxi snakes through the city, the sky a beautiful purple hue as dusk cloaks the sky. The canal is a shimmering dark pool against the purple backdrop. I now understand why there are so many paintings of the Venice view, because I can’t even paint but I feel myself wanting to pick up a brush and paint the scene before me.

  I could always take a picture, but it doesn’t feel the same.

  Stupid, I know.

  Maybe it’s because the city is so old that I have a sudden craving for something more concrete than a picture on my phone.

  I lean my head on Ollie’s shoulder, stifling a yawn. It’s not late, but we spent the majority of our day in the airport dealing with a delayed flight, so that has exhausted me.

  The taxi stops in front of a row of townhouses.

  “This is where we’re staying?” I ask.

  Ollie shrugs. “I don’t speak Italian but I gave him the paper with the address. I’m sure he knows we’re at the right place.”

  I look at the buildings again, my lips turned down in a frown.

  It seems odd to me, but I’m probably over thinking it.

  Ollie opens the door and steps out on the street. I slide across the leather seat and follow suit. The cab driver has already gotten our luggage yet, ready to be rid of us and on to the next person. Ollie pays him and the guy hands back the piece of paper with the address on it. I t
ake it from Ollie and read it, checking to see if we’re in the right place because I’m still doubtful.

  It’s right, though.

  The driver speeds off and Ollie grabs our bags, carrying them over to the town house marked with 36.

  “Our home away from home,” he quips.

  There’s a set of six steps leading up to the townhouse and we start up them.

  “You know, we don’t have a key,” I remark.

  “Shit,” he curses. “I didn’t think about that.”

  At that moment, the door swings open and I shriek, startled by the sudden moment and not expecting someone to be in the place we’re supposed to stay.

  My shriek of terror quickly turns to one of excitement.

  “Oh, my God! Liam!”

  I plow past Ollie and throw myself in Liam’s arms.

  “Whoa,” he cries, catching me as we stumble back.

  I’ve never shown Liam much affection in the past. Yes, he’s Ollie’s best friend, and my friend too, and we joke and laugh, but he’s just not the type that makes you want to bear hug him. But after everything he’s done for us, giving us this trip, and essentially giving us our lives back, well, he deserves the biggest hug ever.

  “Um, I’m happy to see you too.” He laughs and pats my back, probably wondering when I’m going to let him go.

  I press my cheek against his chest and hug him tighter. “Thank you,” I say. “Thank you seems like such an inadequate thing to say, but thank you.”

  His arms slowly come up around me and he hugs me back.

  After a moment, I step back and wipe the tears from my face. I hadn’t even realized I’d started crying.

  “Hey, man. It’s good to see you.” Ollie and Liam exchange the weird guy half-handshake half-hug and I shake my head. Guys are weird. Just hug—it’s not going to make you less manly.

  I glance down the hallway and that’s when I see Ari. She stands back, half in the doorway to what looks like a kitchen.

  “Hey,” I say happily and start towards her.

  She stands up straight and gives me a half-smile, her eyes not quite meeting mine.

  “I’m so happy to see you,” I tell her honestly, and then hug her as tightly as I did Liam, but not as exuberantly since the shock has worn off.

  She hugs me back tightly and when we separate I see the sadness, with a hint of relief in her eyes.

  “I’m shocked to see you guys.”

  “I know.” She shrugs. “I didn’t mean for us to crash your trip. We can stay somewhere else if you guys want to be alone, we’ll understand, but after we talked the other day, I told Liam I’d love to meet up with you guys. The next thing I knew he was booking us plane tickets,” she rambles, and nibbles on her bottom lip nervously when she finishes.

  I clasp her arms in my hands to still her fidgeting. “I’m so happy to see you guys. I don’t want you to stay somewhere else. This is perfect. I think you need this as much as we needed this. My only hope is that getting away will help you as much as it has us.”

  Ari smiles and I can tell it’s genuine. “Good.”

  The guys are busy talking about who knows what. I motion into the kitchen. “Is there stuff to make tea? I’m not much of a tea drinker, but I haven’t been feeling to well. I thought some might help my stomach feel better.”

  “Um, I think there might be.” She turns and heads over to the counter, rifling through the drawers. “Aha!” she cries, pulling out a box of tea bags. It doesn’t take us long to find a teapot and get it fixed and on the stove. While it’s heating, we take a seat at the kitchen table.

  “So …” She pauses and nervously fiddles with the choker necklace she wears. “You’re doing better?”

  I nod, clasping my hands together on top of the table. “Yeah,” I say with a nod. “I am.” I take a breath. “I’m not saying I’m perfect, but I feel like me again. What happened that night left a scar inside me, but the thing about scars is the spot becomes stronger than it was before.”

  I run my fingers through my hair and gather it into a ponytail, securing it with a band while I wait for her to speak.

  She taps her white-polish-covered fingernails against the table. “You’re so much stronger than me,” she whispers. “I can’t seem to let that night go. I feel responsible for every single death that happened that night. The fact that you were caught in the crossfire and lost your baby tears me apart. You’re my friend—or, at least, you were—and seeing you have to go through that on top of everything else … It’s sucked.”

  I grab her hand in mine. “Ari, we are friends. Don’t doubt that.” I swallow past the lump in my throat. “I’m not going to lie to you. Losing the baby killed me. I felt like something inside me died with the baby. I’ve been through a lot in my life, a lot of horrible things, but none of them compared to losing the baby.” I can feel tears pooling in my eyes. “But never, not once, did I blame you for what happened that day. It wasn’t your fault. You didn’t hold that gun in your hand and shoot me. He did. Not you,” I repeat, wanting her to understand.

  She sobs, her chest convulsing as the sounds leave her body. She manages to croak, “The guilt I feel is eating me alive.”

  I dive out of my chair and wrap her in my arms. She hugs me back, rubbing her face against my shoulder where the wetness of her tears seeps into the fabric of my shirt.

  “We’ve all been living our lives on pause,” I say softly, pulling back and looking into her eyes. “We’ve been so focused on that day, refusing to move forward, and because of that, we let him win. We have to move on. That doesn’t mean forgetting the ones we lost that day, it just means we have to live because they can’t.”

  I lost my baby that day, but two people I knew well enough to call my friends, Rebecca and Darren, died too. Darren was the manager of the restaurant and Rebecca was a waitress. They were just doing their jobs and they died because of it. Three lives, all cut short in an instant because of one psychotic man. That’s how much power one person has. One person can change the world—good or bad.

  Ari wipes her eyes with the backs of her hands. “I’ve been seeing a therapist since it happened,” she explains. I know this already, but I don’t interrupt her. “And she’s helped me a lot, but she can’t make the guilt go away.”

  I take her hand in mine. “I understand why you feel guilty, I do, but you have to stop. It wasn’t your fault, Ari. It wasn’t your fault,” I repeat, wanting her to understand that I truly mean that.

  Her lower lip trembles. “Any time I feel even the smallest bit of happiness, I feel even guiltier. Why should I get to smile and laugh and love when they don’t?”

  I shake my head. “It’s because they don’t that you have to. Don’t let their deaths be in vain. You got a second chance, and I did too. We can’t keep dragging ourselves down because of that.”

  Ari shakes her head, wiping more tears from her eyes. “I wish I was as strong as you.”

  “I’m not that strong,” I tell her. “It’s taken me nearly a year to get to this point and I’m not healed. Not by a long shot. But I finally feel like I can breathe again. I don’t have this weight sitting on my chest, crushing me anymore. The best I can do is take everything a day at a time. I’m sure I’ll still have bad days, but my only hope is that the good days outweigh them.”

  She nods, taking in my words as the teapot goes off.

  I give her a moment to collect herself and pour the steaming water into two mugs and add the tea bags. I poke my head out the door and the guys have disappeared from the foyer. Ollie’s and my bags still sit by the door. I can hear their voices drifting from another room and figure they’re in the living room.

  From what I can tell of this townhouse, it’s not made like ones in the states with an open plan. It seems like every room is closed off from the next one. The house is beautiful, exuding old-world charm with dark wood molding, old wood floors, and real brick on some of the walls.

  I carry the mugs over to the table and hand Ari her
s before sitting down.

  She rubs her index finger around the rim of the glass, deep in thought.

  I blow the hot liquid before taking a tentative sip.

  After a moment, she says, “You really don’t hate me?”

  “I could never hate you,” I reply honestly.

  Even in my darkest moment, I never blamed her for what happened. We’re both victims in this madness.

  She wets her lips with a swipe of her tongue and then smiles. It’s a small smile, but it’s clear it’s not for show.

  “I’ve missed you,” she confesses. “So much. But I didn’t know how to be there for you when I couldn’t even be there for myself.”

  “Believe me, I know what you mean.” I nod and take another sip of tea.

  She lifts her mug to her lips and cringes at the taste of the liquid. “I think I hate tea.”

  I laugh loudly. “You think?”

  “Well, I’ve never had it before.” She tastes it again and her face puckers with distaste. “Yeah, I hate it.” She sets the glass down and slides it across the table. She inhales a deep breath and blows it out. “Now that we’ve had that talk, let’s move on to better things.” She smiles again and this time it’s wider and happier. “Tell me about all the places you’ve been. I want to hear everything.”

  I immediately launch into a lengthy explanation of our adventures. Our smiles and laughter are abundant, and it feels like old times.

  After I finish recounting our trip so far to Ari, she takes me on a tour through the townhouse. It’s small, but adorable. The two bedrooms upstairs are surprisingly large with their own bathrooms. One bedroom even has a small Juliet balcony. She said that was the room Ollie and I would be staying in.

  The townhouse has its own private outdoor area. It’s surrounded by a stone fence with overgrown greenery. A small table sits on a cobblestone patio with four chairs and a yellow-and-white-striped umbrella.

  Ari finishes the tour in the living area, which boasts a sectional couch, a few chairs, and a TV over the fireplace. An orange-and-red printed rug covers the floor and the ceiling boasts wood beams crisscrossing it.

  Ollie and Liam sit on the couch, now watching TV—which I find hilarious since it’s all in Italian and neither of them can speak it.