Say Yes (Nostalgic Summer Romance)

“Have you ever heard of Antaeus?” I asked after a while.

Liam shook his head.

“He was a giant, son of Poseidon, god of the sea, and Gaea, goddess of the earth,” I explained. “When he would meet a foe in battle, any time they threw him to the ground, he got stronger. Because the earth was his mother. It renewed his strength.” I met his eyes. “I know it may not feel like it right now, but just because you were thrown down doesn’t mean life is over. Maybe it’ll make you stronger.”

“That’s an awful optimistic way to look at things.”

I shrugged. “Gotta have hope in something, right?”

His subtle laugh through his nose told me he thought otherwise. “What do you have hope in?”

“That I can be a successful artist,” I answered easily, holding up my right hand. “Despite all the people in life who tell me otherwise.”

“Is that what your parents tell you?”

I swallowed. “They love me, and they want to support me… but they worry. I think they always had this picture for me, before I was even conceived, you know? They pictured their life with kids and had a vision in mind. And I… well,” I held up my right hand. “I don’t fit it.”

“You can do whatever you want to do.”

“I know,” I said, though part of me wondered after my first two assignments here in Florence. I pushed those doubts down, though, focusing on the moment. “And what do you want to do now?” I asked. “You said you couldn’t be what they wanted or needed you to be… what do you want to be?”

“Nothing.”

I frowned. “You can’t want to be nothing. You have to want something.”

“Well, I don’t.”

“You’re in a three-month intensive art program in Florence,” I reminded him. “You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t want to do something with your art.”

“Why do I have to want to do something with it, other than simply create it?”

I shook my head. “You don’t want to get paid for your work? Make a living from it? Be known for it? See your paintings in museums, or homes, or city centers or… or…” I waved my hand around. “Anything?”

“No.”

“No?” I asked incredulously. “Then, why are you here?”

He shrugged. “Because right now, I like to paint.”

I blinked.

“It’s not always about trying to get somewhere or be something. Not for me. Not anymore.” He swallowed. “I did that once, and I found out the hard way how fast it can all go, and how you can lose everything about yourself if you tie everything up in these future dreams.”

Liam stood, brushing off his pants.

“Everyone thinks if they achieve this or that, then they’ll be happy. Then they can start living. But what they fail to see is that this is it.” He bent down and thumped the ground before raising both hands up to the sky. “This is life. It’s happening right now. And if you don’t stop and soak it in, you’ll miss it.”

Before I could reply, Liam shrugged out of his leather jacket and then reached back behind his neck to tug his t-shirt off next. He was already unbuckling his belt when I scrambled to my feet.

“What are you doing?” I asked in a hushed voice, looking around as if we were in a crowded building as opposed to completely alone in a dark park.

“I’m jumping in,” he said, nodding toward the river. “How about you?”

He started off toward the river, leaving a trail of boots and clothing behind him until he splashed into the water. It was a steep decline off the embankment, and within four steps, he was up to his chest.

“I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to swim in there!” I hissed, still looking around like we might be caught and arrested.

“Come on, Harley Chambers. We’ve both faced fears tonight,” he called. “Why not break a few rules while we’re at it?”

I crossed my arms and shook my head.

Liam smirked. “That’s not how you say yes.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but stopped short when Liam arched a challenging brow.

I growled. “You are so frustrating!”

“Say that to my face.”

I narrowed my eyes at his stupid smirk before looking up at the sky, letting out a long huff. With a grumble, I tore off my jacket and left it in the grass. I kept my dress on, though, and walked to the water’s edge, dipping one toe in.

“It’s cold!”

“It’s not that bad. Come on,” he said, reaching a hand out for me. “Jump in.”

The way his dark eyes sparkled in the moonlight was dangerous. They were mesmerizing, hypnotic, intoxicating. He watched me with that crooked smile, and his hand extended, a dare in his gaze that seemed much deeper than just asking me to jump in the Arno River.

And maybe it was the thrill of yes night buzzing through me. Maybe it was the invincible feeling that sprang from doing something that scared me to my very core. Or maybe it was the exhilarating rush that came from knowing this peculiar boy had told me something he’d never told anyone else, that he’d let me in on the most private, most vulnerable part of who he was.