This Love

by Hilaria Alexander

  In the following days, I heard him say to Johan he would be staying for a few more weeks. He had planned to go to Florence, but was staying at a friend’s house and decided to postpone it. He had rented a flat on the same street where the pancake shop was. As they talked, I glanced furtively in their direction, and my heart started fluttering, filling with hope. Maybe it wasn’t just me. Maybe he felt this strange pull too. Whatever this was.

  “So when are you leaving?” I asked him casually later that day.

  I was trying, however I didn’t think I was doing a very good job at pretending to be indifferent.

  He didn’t buy it at all, because a smug grin spread across his face. He had probably noticed me eavesdropping earlier.

  “I’m not leaving anymore,” he replied, an amused look in his eyes. He bit his lip, waiting for my reaction.

  “How come?” I inquired, staring back at him. His gaze was so intense, and as my eyes fell on his parted lips, I found myself wanting to lean in and kiss him. As I recognized the absurdity of my thoughts, I started blushing, so I quickly looked away, busying myself with something else.

  “My record company wants me to work with a local producer. He’s kind of a legend, but a bit of an eccentric guy. You might have heard of him, his name is Hans Koll.”

  I thought I had heard the name before, but I knew nothing about the producer he was talking about. My knowledge was limited to the world of classical music. Apparently Johan did know who Hans Koll was, because he chimed in and asked Lou.

  “Are you going to work with Hans Koll? That guy is hard to crack.”

  “Geez, what’s so bad about him?” I asked.

  Johan stared at me for a long moment. He frowned, and seemed to be struggling to put it into words. He looked like he was lost in translation a little.

  “He’s just a…very peculiar man, as far as I know,” Lou said. “What do you know, Johan?”

  Johan leaned on the counter and looked around before starting to gossip.

  “I’ve never met him, but I heard stories about him all my life. He’s famous, and admired, but never goes anywhere. He never leaves Amsterdam. He never leaves his house!”

  “What, not even for a walk?” I asked, cutting in.

  “Nee! They say he has a big garden in the back of his house, and that’s where he walks. He’s not very friendly,” he mused, the Dutch accent marking his words more than usual. He sounded like he was telling an old folktale.

  “Uuuuuhhhh, the creepy and mysterious Hans Koll,” I teased.

  “You joke,” Johan continued. “I have heard plenty of stories about him.”

  “What kind of stories?” Lou asked.

  “He always wears the same type of outfit…he seems to…hate people.”

  “Well, that seems pretty obvious…a recluse who’s also a misanthrope…I’d say, no surprise there. But I think we better stop here, Johan. We might be spooking Lou.”

  Lou scoffed. Johan looked at me with a puzzled expression on his face, not understanding me. “I meant we might be scaring Lou.”

  Johan nodded, then looked at Lou and told him, “Good luck, man!”

  “I’ll be fine…I’m sure he’s just a very eccentric man. It’s not like I hadn’t had my share of eccentric people. The music industry is full of primadonnas. At least Hans Koll is great at what he does.”

  “So what about Florence? Are you not going to Italy anymore?” I asked him.

  “No, that’s still happening,” he replied. “I have to admit that even though working with Hans Koll wasn’t my idea, I’m kind of glad they’re making me stay here,” he said, giving me a look. It wasn’t just a normal look. It was the type of look that seemed to mean a lot of things, the type that sent a jolt through my spine and made me completely lose my composure. I wondered how much longer I’d be able to keep up the charade. I knew I was losing this game already.

  “So…how is this going to work? I mean, if you’re still recording in the studio in Italy, what are you going to do with him here?”

  “Ahhh, well, I have an official reason, however I also have an ‘unofficial theory.’”

  I frowned, even more confused by his words.

  “The official reason is that he can help me work on my songs—it would almost be like a…workshop of sorts. Working with him on the songs would be part of the pre-production for the album. Once he and I work over the material and we’re both satisfied with it, I’ll go to Italy to record it.”

  “And what’s the unofficial theory?” I asked.

  “I think this is just a strategy my record company has come up with to sell more albums,” he answered with a chuckle.

  “How?”

  “Well, let’s be honest, it’s not like they’re getting that rich with my albums, so when a producer like Hans Koll works with you, you instantly gain more visibility, publicity and so on…he might be a weirdo, but I’m actually really excited to work with him. He’s done some great stuff.”

  I told myself this was it. Lou would get busy working on the album, and I’d hardly see him anymore. But it never failed, he kept coming back. I couldn’t deny how relieved and excited I was when each morning he greeted me with a smile. I kept telling myself I didn’t know him and there was no reason I should want to. But it didn’t matter if you knew him or not. After he smiled at you in that sweet, charming way of his, you wanted to. He had the most irresistible and disarming smile. It made me think of doing things I had never dreamed of. Everyone gravitated toward him, me included. I kept trying to resist him, but his presence alone forced me to come out of the safe refuge I had built for myself.

  All he had to do was just be cute and smile at me, and I would lose all my bearings. That’s pretty much how he finally got me to sing with him. You’d think my bosses would get mad if I wasted time singing instead of working. Surprisingly, they were the ones encouraging me to do it. I was more nervous singing with him than any other time I had done it in the street, on my own. But we sounded good together. So good. It was sort of unreal.

  Ally walked in one day while we were singing “Love Is Here To Stay.” We had already sung a few classics, including a few songs by Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong and we both seemed to have a knack for it, for some reason. Lou joked it was because of our names. Ally had been working on a difficult case and told me she didn’t have time to hang out. I did as she asked and didn’t even text her to tell her about Lou. The expression of shock on her face was priceless. I waved at her, as she dropped her purse on the bar in slow-motion, her mouth half-opened, while I sang about Rockies crumbling, and Gibraltar tumbling.

  “So, is this what you’ve been doing?” she asked me after the song, when I walked to her, half dancing, to give her a hug. “Is that the guy?”

  I nodded, swaying slightly, the music still playing in the background.

  “He’s cute,” she said, peeking at him.

  “Come on, I’ll introduce you.”

  “You must be the badass Ally,” he said when he shook her hand, flashing a brilliant smile.

  I saw Ally taken aback for a brief moment, and it almost looked like she faltered on her feet. The reaction was so unlike her.

  “That’s me,” she quickly recovered, sounding completely confident.

  “I’m Lou. Lou Rivers.”

  “Nice to meet you Lou—No Way!”

  She looked between Lou and me in disbelief, almost as if she wanted to ask for confirmation. I nodded, and Lou did too.

  “Couldn’t you tell me sooner?” She whispered, leaning toward me.

  “It’s very nice to meet you, Lou,” she said, suddenly shy. It was cute to see Ally fan-girl a little. She hung out for a while and had what looked like a long and animated conversation with Lou while I resumed cleaning. She told him she had family in Tennessee, asked him about Nashville. Ally hadn’t been back in a while, and was looking forward to visiting soon.

  “When you do, make sure you come see me,” he said to her. If it had been anyone else,
I wouldn’t have believed the offer, but Lou sounded so genuine. He even gave her his number! I didn’t even have his number. Not like I needed it, anyway, because he always seemed to be around. It still bothered me a little, and I wished it didn’t.

  “You are exceptionally friendly for someone who’s famous,” I told him later, after she left.

  “What do you mean?” he asked, puzzled.

  “You gave Ally your phone number? Y’all have known each other for five minutes!”

  “Look at you using y’all! I didn’t know that was New York slang.”

  He winked at me. I knew what he was hinting at. He was rubbing off on me, and that included his way of talking. I bit my lip, a little embarrassed, but his grin made me smile.

  “If I didn’t know any better—not that I know you so well—I’d say you almost sound jealous, Ella!” he grinned, seemingly delighted by my frustration.

  “I am not!” I retorted, throwing a dish cloth at him, but that didn’t throw him off. As a matter of fact, he looked like he was having a good ol’ time. And on top of that, I was blushing, giving myself away completely.

  “You are so cute when you’re flustered, and you let go of your usual composure.”

  “Hmph.”

  “Why don’t we go out tonight?” he asked, leaning in.

  “Just you and I?” Seemed like a terrible idea. A wonderful, terrible idea.

  “Yeah, why not? Or you could invite Ally if you want. It seems like you’re always holed up in this place.”

  “I go out,” I objected.

  “You do, huh?”

  “Yeah, it might come as news to you, but I do have a life.”

  “Really? I hadn’t noticed.”

  Well, I used to have more of a life months ago; I went clubbing, tried to make friends. I even went out with a couple of guys, but I had gotten bored of the whole scene, and I just stopped going out. Mindless hookups had gotten old fast, and I just wanted to feel a connection with somebody, a real one. If I had to go out, I’d just go to dinner with Ally, or go to the movies.

  I kept staring at Lou’s face for a while before I realized he was still waiting for an answer.

  “Are you ever going to leave?” I blurted out.

  He laughed and looked down. When he looked up to me again, he gave me that intense stare of his. Gosh, those damn eyes!

  “Do you mean today or in general? Are you trying to get rid of me, Ella? You wound me,” he said, pretending I had just stabbed him in the chest, and at that moment I realized how much I loved the way he said my name, the way that it sounded in his low, sexy voice.

  Get rid of him? Quite the contrary. I was just asking because I didn’t know how much longer I could hold back around him. I already liked him so much. I was so accustomed to the sound of his voice; when he sang, he made my soul feel at peace with everything. And when I sang with him, it was the most fun I had ever had. I had never sung with anyone before, and we sounded so good. Singing together was also a good excuse for me to stare at his face. The more I studied him, the more I liked him. Those eyes, but also, those lips. I loved staring at them when he sang. His bottom lip, in particular, was something else. I wanted to bite it so bad. Having these kinds of thoughts while I was singing was silly. One of these days I was going to make a fool out of myself, it was just a matter of time, it was bound to happen. I kept thinking I should have had my way with him when I first met him, and now maybe I wouldn’t be so crazy about him. What I didn’t understand was why was he still sticking around? He worked with Hans Koll for a specific number of hours each day—Hans Koll seemed to have a knack for precision and schedules. OCD much?—but he could have spent his free time anywhere else. Instead, he was always around. I knew he liked me, but it couldn’t be the only reason, could it? It seemed inconceivable that he would come back just for me.

  “So, what is it?” he asked again, a faint smirk on his face. “Are you trying to get rid of me?”

  “Sorry, that just came out. I don’t seem to have a filter when I talk to you.”

  “I kind of like that. Scratch that—I really like that. It’s refreshing.”

  “What is?”

  “Having someone around that says what they really think. But you still haven’t answered my question. Do you want me to leave?”

  “No. I don’t want you to leave,” I answered feebly. Oh, gosh, could I sound more like an idiot? The answer was no. I guess Lou didn’t mind it, though, because a huge grin spread on his face, he grabbed a paper napkin and wrote something on it.

  “Here’s my number.” He smiled as he slid the napkin toward me. “Text me what time you want to get together.”

  I could have gone out with him without Ally, I realized, but I was too nervous. When it came to guys, I wasn’t like this. Most of the time, I was hard to impress; I was the one that ran away. It was different with Lou Rivers. I don’t think I could blame it on being star-struck, either. He was a pretty easygoing guy. He was a normal, down-to-earth dude, but when I was around him, I felt like I never had before.

  Ally: Why do I have to come? Don’t you want to be alone with him?

  Ella: No. I’m afraid.

  Ally: Afraid of WHAT? Of having dinner with a handsome guy? You’re so weird, Ella.

  Ella: I am afraid of what could happen.

  Ally: I call bullshit. I have seen you flirt with guys. You’ve never been afraid or nervous around any guy before. What’s that all about?

  Ella: It’s him. I don’t want anything to happen, because he seems like one of those guys you don’t forget easily. And I’m also afraid he might be still hung up on his ex-wife.

  Ally: Well, that would be something to worry about if you were getting serious with him, not if you were just hooking up! What happened to collecting life experiences? Don’t you want to tell your grandkids one day about the time you made out with a handsome musician?

  Ella: Ahhhhh, stop it! I already have too many thoughts about him as it is!

  Ally: Whatever, I’ll come, but this is stupid. MAKE IT HAPPEN! Hot hookup!

  Ella: I don’t hookup anymore.

  Ally: Yeah, but you used to, and I don’t understand why you don’t anymore. I’ll see you at eight.

  “Three Americans eating apple pie in Amsterdam! This sounds like the beginning of a joke!” I said as we had dessert at 43 Whiskers, a charming but small bistro in the Jordaan quarter. They had, hands down, the best Dutch apple tart in the entire city. It was always very busy, at any time of the day, but somehow we didn’t have to wait too long and managed to get a table rather easily. And since tonight the weather was warm, we were able to eat al fresco under the restaurant’s cute green and white sun shades.

  “Well, it’s not American pie, but it’s amazing! You can’t come to Amsterdam and not have it. It’s like a rite of passage,” Ally smiled.

  It was a great idea to invite Ally along. This might have actually been the most relaxed I had been around Lou. That didn’t mean we weren’t constantly eyeing each other through the night. The more it happened, the more I realized how much trouble I was in.

  “I’m going to use the restroom,” I told them as I got up. I needed a little break, to clear my head. I didn’t understand how being around him made me so heady, so fast.

  When I got back, I saw him and Ally laughing like they were old friends. It made me smile, at first, then a wave of jealousy washed over me. I hated I was even feeling that way. The girl sitting there was my friend, and I had no claim whatsoever on that man. I needed to calm the fuck down.

  As soon as Lou saw me walk back towards the table, he smiled at me, almost beaming, and said, “Ally was just telling me her nickname for you!”

  Oh, that. I rolled my eyes and gave him a tight-lipped smile as I sat back in my chair.

  “If you must know, Ally, Razor Tongue here made quite the lasting impression the first time I met her!”

  “Really? What did you say, Ella?” she asked, her eyes widening, acting like she had no idea what
he was talking about. What a liar, she already knew the whole story!

  I just shook my head in disbelief and listened to Lou tell her the story of the first time we met. I smiled while I was listening to him paint the scene of that day.

  Surprisingly, I came across way better than what I remembered. He was obviously trying to be nice, claiming I was only rude to him because he asked a very personal question.

  “I still don’t know what it is that bugs her so much about her past,” he added, taking a sip of the leftover wine.

  And I wish I never had to tell you, I thought to myself. Somehow, though, I knew that sooner or later the subject would come up. He was looking at me as if he was waiting for an explanation.

  “Yeah, I was really awful to him, but then I sang him an apology song, and he forgave me. Isn’t that right, Lou?” I asked him with a playful grin.

  I expected a similar, cheerful reaction from him. Instead, he just nodded as he looked into my eyes.

  “Oh, you two are so cute!” Ally exclaimed, and if I could have shot daggers out of my eyes, I probably would have. What the hell was that? What game was she playing? You are no Patti Stanger, I wanted to tell her. There is no matchmaking to be had here.

  “Well kids, this was lots of fun, but I have an early morning tomorrow, and I have to go. Lou, I believe you’re sticking around, correct?” she asked him.