by C.J Duggan
Before I could distance myself, Johnny took the drink from my hand and placed it on our table, then slid his hand into mine. I froze. ‘Come on—I love this song,’ he said, canting his head and pulling me towards the dance floor.
‘Oh no, Johnny, I really don’t want to …’
But there was no escaping his pull—he was far stronger than me. Fight as I might, with an awkward twirl onto the dance floor we were soon lost in the crush of flailing bodies, battering around like a ball in a pinball machine while Phoenix’s ‘Rome’ belted out. I could only hope that we were hidden from prying eyes as Johnny was dancing up close next to me, holding my hand. And maybe it was the new taste of my drink, or the hidden crush of the dancing crowd and the beat of the music, but I finally lost myself. I forgot about prying eyes and consequences; I was having the best time, until I made the mistake of looking at the heated stare of Johnny. His arms had somehow encircled my waist, and I felt a new panic as a small, sexy smile tugged at the side of his mouth, like a question being posed, his face so close to mine. I suddenly felt hot, like I couldn’t breathe. Jodie’s eyes, Kylie’s pout, Nate’s high five and Maria’s curved brow flashed in my mind. I looked up into Johnny’s blue eyes—and don’t get me wrong, they were a really beautiful blue—attached to an equally nice face, a hard, built body that I could feel under my hands that rested on his biceps and—holy shit, what was that pressed against my hip?
Ordinarily this all wouldn’t have been so shocking; I mean, I wasn’t a prude and Johnny was gorgeous, but what unsettled me more than his unexpected erection was the fact that his eyes weren’t the ones I wanted to look into. They weren’t the very vivid brown eyes I wanted to get lost in; his smile wasn’t home to two dimples that made me want to stare at any given chance in case they emerged. And regardless of how fast my heart was beating and how I bit my lip at the tempting notion of giving in to Johnny, I took the only exit I could think of, sliding my hands up to his shoulders and yelling into his ear, ‘I think I am going to be sick.’
Here’s a tip for travellers worthy of any Lonely Planet guide: if you need to quickly exit a situation or avoid a certain event real fast, just utter those magical words. Aside from the rather comical wide-eyed look of horror you will receive, you will have your way out. Johnny led out of the crowd, ducking and weaving, pushing and shouting, carving a fast retreat to the exit and blasting into the cool, Italian night air. Though I didn’t really feel sick, the blissful fresh air was a welcome reprieve from the stuffy, loud interior of the bar. Actually, I felt fine, elated even, thinking that, hey, I hadn’t lost my charm, I still had it. I smiled and breathed in the night air deeply.
‘Johnny, you are my knight in shining armour,’ I called out, spinning, until an image caused me to skid to a halt. Johnny walked into the back of me and would have knocked me over if he hadn’t grabbed my hips and drawn me back against him.
‘Whoa, watch ya lookin’ at …’ Johnny paused as my widened eyes locked onto a pair of very familiar brown eyes. My heart stopped, but not for the unexpected joy of bumping into Marcello out the back of a club in the heart of Rome; no, not at all. My heart stopped because my eyes broke from Marcello to the figure standing next to him, the vision of my nightmares.
Jodie.
Chapter Fifteen
‘Samantha?’
It was like being struck by a bolt of lightning; I only got called by my full name when I was in deep trouble, which it seemed I now was. I followed Jodie’s eyes and realised that Johnny still had his hands at my hips, and Johnny and I had been seen giggling and swaying in a darkened Roman street like a pair of young lovers. I quickly pulled his hands away, putting distance between us, trying to choose between explaining that it wasn’t what it looked like or laughing it all off. Johnny turned to look at me, offended by my sudden repulsion; I was now caught by three sets of confused eyes.
‘What the hell are you doing?’ Jodie spoke as if her blood was boiling under her skin, her poor attempt at concealing her rage perhaps more frightening than the rage itself. But I really wasn’t concerned with answering as my gaze set on the cool, calm exterior of Marcello, who looked from me to Johnny and back again, as if he was silently putting two and two together. My heart dropped. There was no two and two, there was nothing going on. But then my eyes flicked from him to Jodie and my own sudden realisation settled.
‘I thought you weren’t coming out tonight?’ And what the hell was he doing with her?
Marcello’s brows furrowed as he glanced at Jodie and back at me, as if he was just as troubled by the assumption. Jodie, on the other hand, seemed oh so smug.
‘Marcello was just showing me the sights,’ she said, glancing at Johnny and then back at me, as if to say a silent ‘Fuck you’.
I didn’t know what was happening to me, maybe rage was a contagious thing, but seeing Jodie loop her arm through Marcello’s made me feel ill. To think of him walking and telling her stories of times gone by made me feel like a complete fool. Had I honestly thought that he had told me things, shown me things today that were special? I was so naive.
So. Stupid.
I smiled. ‘Yeah, he is really good at that,’ I said, before turning and heading into what I thought would be the last place I wanted to go, until I realised that place was out in the street with Marcello and Jodie. If I never see those brown eyes again it will be fine with me, I thought. I just wished that I really believed it. I wove my way back into the dark, narrow halls crammed with people laughing, drinking, fist-pumping, dry-humping: all the good stuff. Lucky them, I thought bitterly, turning a corner, relieved to see the friendly faces of Harper and Kylie in a spot where the music, while still loud, was a little duller and you didn’t have to yell for conversation. Unless, of course, you were just getting yelled at, like I was now. Harper placed herself protectively in front of Kylie, who looked upset.
‘What’s wrong? Kylie, are you okay?’
‘You have some nerve.’ Harper glared at me; it was a look I was getting accustomed to.
‘Sorry?’
‘You knew she liked Johnny, and yet there you were dry-humping him on the dance floor in front of everyone.’
‘I was not!’ I said, way too high-pitched. Was she for real?
‘Everyone is laughing at you, Sammi.’
Her words landed like a physical blow, a quick uppercut that robbed me of my breath. I didn’t know what to say; the thought of them all making fun of me made me feel like I was in high school all over again.
‘It’s funny, I really didn’t think you were the kind,’ said Harper, shaking her head and looking almost like she was sorry for me.
‘Oh, and what kind is that exactly?’
It was a question I wished I hadn’t asked, but the words had fallen out of my mouth anyway. Before Harper could answer, Kylie pushed herself up from the wall and looked at me dead on with bloodshot eyes.
‘A total snake in the grass,’ she bit out, before tugging Harper away and leaving me on my own, my mouth agape.
What the hell?
The only bridge I’d managed to build in this insane group had been set on fire. Now I was stuck in no-man’s-land; I didn’t want to go back to the street, where Marcello was probably pointing to the night sky and telling Jodie about old Roman legends—that, or he was wrestling with Johnny on the cobblestones to win the girl. Or I could go back to the table where apparently I was a laughing stock. Was it because of my dance moves, or was it because me landing someone like Johnny was so unlikely? They must have really split a stitch over the possibility of me and Marcello.
Ugh. I pushed myself forward, if not towards the group then towards the bar; there was still time left in the ‘Power Hour’ to down a good number of drinks. I slammed a shot down my gullet, eliciting a cheer from a group of locals, encouraging me to reach for another, slamming one drink down after another while Icona Pop’s ‘I Love It’ blasted in the background so hard I could feel the floor vibrate.
I toasted my newfound
friends. ‘Salute!’
I came to Rome on my own, and I was going to leave here on my own.
Before too long my self-pity had morphed into something else entirely.
I LOVED Rome! And this snake was going to slide onto the dance floor and rip it up. What’s the saying—dance as if no one was watching? Well, that was me. A lone wolf, having the time of my life. I didn’t need anyone, not even to show me the sights. I had a map, a brain. Screw you, Marcello, whoever you are. And maybe I was seeing things, and Lord knew after several shots I was seeing double, but I felt a hand grab my arm, turning me around, and there he was.
‘Speak of the devil!’ I shouted.
‘What?’ he yelled over the music, confused.
Oh yeah, another internal thought again.
‘Having a lovely evening?’ I asked, still dancing from side to side, my words dripping with sarcasm.
‘Not as much as you, it would seem,’ he said, his eyes following me, watching my awesome dance moves as he stood stoically still.
‘Me? Oh, I am having a great time!’ I raised my hands to the sky as if summoning the dance gods.
Marcello was laughing at me, actually fucking laughing at me. Like all the rest of them, no doubt; well, screw them, screw him and this place, wherever the hell this place was. We had arrived by taxi and been unceremoniously dumped out the front, our wrists tagged and pushed inside like cattle. Now if I wanted to exit dramatically, marching off mid-conversation into the night, I really didn’t have a clue where to go. Ugh. Instead, I opted to skulk back to the bar until Marcello grabbed my hand.
‘I think that’s a bad idea.’
‘Well, not as bad an idea as getting snared in Jodie’s spider web.’
I nodded at the thought. If I was a snake and she was a spider, I could totally beat her in a fight.
‘Jodie came to me—she didn’t know where the nightclub was.’
‘Oh, howww convenient.’
Marcello ran his hands through his hair, almost as if he was praying for strength; it was the first time I had really seen him exasperated.
‘This is exactly why I don’t want to work with you,’ he said.
‘With me?’
‘Not you—them, this, the whole thing,’ he shouted.
I frowned; how much had I had to drink? Marcello wasn’t making any sense, and it had nothing to do with a language barrier.
‘I think you need a drink,’ I said.
He simply shook his head, looking at me like he didn’t know whether to strangle me or follow me to the bar.
‘Come on, it’s my shout,’ I said, pulling him towards the bar.
He scoffed. ‘It’s for free.’
I smiled. ‘Oh, and so it is.’
It didn’t take me long to figure out exactly what Marcello’s official role was in the group. He was the fun police, outlawing my happiness by ordering me water instead of booze and wedging himself firmly between me and the barman.
‘Really? I’m on holidays and you are cutting off the tap.’
‘You will thank me in the morning.’
I paused, thinking about what the morning meant exactly; ugh, a fully planned day of sightseeing. I could feel my skin screaming in protest at a day in the sun. I should have opted for an ice bath and slathering myself in after-sun gel. I took the water from Marcello without a word.
‘Well, I will just pace myself tomorrow,’ I said, taking a sip from my glass.
Marcello laughed. ‘Don’t bet on it. Maria runs a tight ship; if you’re late she will leave you behind, make no mistake. She acts like one of the gang but she will never mess with site operators; you are replaceable. Relationships formed in business will win every time.’
I glanced at the fun-loving Maria flirting with Nate and couldn’t imagine her leaving a man behind. She was like the mother of the group, and hopefully not one who would be in the bed under mine later on. I wouldn’t put it past any of them, bunch of deviants. My eyes locked on to a very solemn-looking Bookworm Gary on the edge of the dance floor, nursing a beer and looking utterly miserable. I followed his forlorn look across to the opposite side of the room, where Jodie and Johnny stood, clearly in a heated argument. It was like a love triangle from a seriously fucked-up YA novel.
‘Should I ask? No, actually, don’t worry—I’ve had my fill of teen angst for one night. Goodnight, Sammi.’
Marcello nodded before moving to step around me.
‘Oh, what, not going to escort me to bed tonight?’ The words came out before I could realise how incredibly suggestive they sounded. Marcello stopped and looked at me, a little smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
‘I think Johnny can help you out.’ Marcello looked over my shoulder, causing me to turn and be met with Johnny, leaning against the bar next to me. I cringed, not wanting anything to do with Johnny and his psycho woman, who was thankfully nowhere to be seen.
I turned back to Marcello, tilting my head in mockery, but he simply flashed those dimples and leant into me, speaking into my ear. ‘Behave.’
And just like that he was gone.
Chapter Sixteen
‘Marcello, wait. Don’t make me run—I have a sore pinky!’
It wasn’t the kind of impassioned cry you’d see in a movie script, not something you’d hear Deborah Kerr yell as she ran after Cary Grant. But this was the world according to Sammi Shorten and, as much as running after a gorgeous Italian man in a darkened street in Rome wasn’t exactly a usual Friday night, here I was.
Marcello stopped, turning to take in the sight of a lone woman running down the street, shoes in hand, hair wild, sunburned skin on show, pulling up in front of him with hands on knees, breathless. How he didn’t turn and run I will never know. Instead, he simply stood there and looked at me like he didn’t know exactly what to do with me; I probably looked like an item that belonged in a lost property pile. And with me standing next to the unwrinkled, well-cut, tall, dark and handsome figure of Marcello, no wonder people were laughing at me—it was a bloody joke. In the light of an illuminated bar sign, it was painfully clear. He was not for me; he was not in my league and despite the courage of a few drinks, chasing after him with some romantic, whimsical notion was utterly insane. It was a sobering moment, one that had me stepping back and shaking my head.
‘Sammi?’ Marcello edged forward.
‘No, never mind. I’m good,’ I said, holding up my shoes and spinning so quickly in the opposite direction that I didn’t see the blinding light of the buzzing Vespa in my path. It happened all too fast: lights, screaming, horn blasting, tyre skidding, the vice-like grip swooping around my body and dragging me backwards and slamming me against something hard and cold. All the breath was knocked from my lungs, and loud, angry Italian shouts echoed in the streets between the rider and Marcello, insults exchanged in a wall of infinite noise as the world spun and shock settled in. I felt painfully aware of everything. The noises, the lights, the rough edge of the doorway I was pressed against, the warmth and protection of Marcello holding firmly onto me, keeping me up, my shaking body held by his firm grip as he slid his hand up to cup my cheeks, tilting my ashen face to meet his.
‘Are you okay?’
Was I? I wasn’t so sure, so I answered in the only way I could communicate. My chin trembled and I shook my head. Marcello breathed out, like ten years of his own life had been robbed from him, smiling and caressing the side of my neck; nestled under the thick mane of my hair, he simply mirrored my head shaking, drawing me into him and wrapping me into a tight, warm embrace.
‘You are a disaster.’ The vibration of his words were warm against my temple.
‘I know,’ I agreed, anchoring myself to him. I couldn’t stop shaking. I didn’t want to lose my shit but I lifted my head anyway, tears welling in my eyes; no use trying to hide how truly pathetic I was.
‘Are you hurt?’
‘No, I was just thinking that …’ My voice broke; I wiped at my cheek and looked away.
Mar
cello lifted my chin. ‘Thinking what?’ he asked gently.
‘I have no faith that my shitty travel agent’s insurance covers serious maiming by a Vespa.’
Marcello’s mouth twisted. ‘You mean, you didn’t tick the “maiming by Vespa” box?’
‘I can pretty much guarantee it.’
‘That’s a raw deal,’ he agreed.
‘I didn’t sign up for this,’ I sniffed.
‘What? You didn’t sign up for being wedged up against a doorway by a handsome stranger?’
My eyes flicked up to Marcello’s face, smiling beyond my misty vision. I saw a lightness in him; the dimples were there and they were the best kind of distraction.
‘Well, no, I did actually sign up for that,’ I joked. ‘That was extra.’
Marcello’s thumb made slow, lazy circles against the nape of my neck. ‘Extra?’
I nodded, pressing my lips together, I was shaking for a whole other reason now, my chest rising and falling in laboured breaths that were out of rhythm against Marcello’s. If this was what the aftermath of being saved from certain death was all about, I would have thrown myself into the path of a Vespa a long time ago.
And as if his eyes, and his hands, his heat—and, God, did he smell amazing—weren’t all too much, he bloody smiled as he moved in closer, lowering his head and whispering against my mouth.
‘Well, I hope it was worth it,’ he said, lips lowered onto mine, kissing me so softly, so sweetly, stopping me from breathing. In that moment I knew, feeling his arms circle around my waist, that it was worth it. It had all been worth it. Letting go, being free, throwing caution to the wind, running down a street shoeless and almost getting run over, it had all been worth it. I felt it in the warmth of his body against me, in his deepening kiss as my hands scooped into his hair, encouraging him with the small sounds of approval as his hands fisted at my dress, pulling me closer to him. Softness, careening into a heated hunger. My shoulder rubbed against the coarse stone doorway, verging on pain, until I felt the press of Marcello’s thigh between my legs, and his tongue delve into my mouth. I had all but forgotten my name as he kissed a trail down along my neck, a scorching path that had me catching my breath and blinking the stars from my vision, feeling the delicious friction between us. I didn’t know the laws here; was it sociably acceptable to have sex on a darkened doorstep? I knew you weren’t allowed to eat food on the Spanish Steps; surely this was far more depraved.
