Say Yes (Nostalgic Summer Romance)

I can’t explain what came over me in that moment.

Looking back now, I wonder if it was destiny, or perhaps the most cosmically beautiful coincidence.

Whatever was responsible for the rush that washed over me, I dumped the half-eaten sandwich back on the plate, jumped up from the bed, and quickly changed into an earthy floral dress and threw my jean jacket on over it. I paired it with my favorite, white platform Sketchers, and threw my small leather backpack on, making sure it had my passport, visa, and cash inside.

I flew through the living room past a confused Angela, who asked me around a mouthful of peanut butter where I was going.

“I’m going out.”

“Out?” she mumbled. Then, after a swallow, she added, “You’re supposed to be working!”

“I am.”

“Where?”

“Don’t know,” I said with a grin, stopping in the kitchen to fill my water bottle and shove it in my bag.

“What do you mean, you don’t know?”

“I mean, I don’t know.” I laughed. “I’m going to walk out that door, and then I’m going to say yes to whatever comes my way. I’m not going to overthink anything or dig my heels in and tell myself all the reasons I couldn’t or shouldn’t do something. I’m just going to… live. To go where the wind blows me. To look at the world around me in a new way.”

Angela blinked a few times before she asked. “Are you high?”

I laughed again. “No. I’m inspired,” I said, stopping by the old couch long enough to kiss her cheek. “All thanks to you.”

“Well, wait, let me change and I’ll come with you.”

“No can do, roomie,” I said. “I’ve got to do this on my own.”

“I thought you said it was a yes night!”

“It is,” I threw behind me as I opened the front door. “As soon as I walk through this door.”

“That’s just cruel!” Angela crossed her arms on a huff, but then she smirked and added, “You’re lucky I love you. And that I’m on my period, so the thought of leaving this couch after the peanut butter expedition today makes me almost as whiny as the fact that Nia Long is straight.”

I barked out a laugh at that, doing a little spin to blow her a kiss before I shut the door behind me.

Then, I set out into the warm Florence air with inspiration crackling like a live wire under my skin. I knew that feeling well — it was a promise that something exciting and unforgettable was within reach, that I was on the cusp of a great adventure.

Or maybe it was just a warning in disguise.

A warning I didn’t heed.

It was quiet when I shoved through the door of our dorm building and flew out onto the cobblestone street. This part of campus wasn’t a touristy location, but I could hear the distant hum just a few blocks away, the sound of laughter and glasses clinking and music filtering up through the air.

I took a deep breath, tucking my hands in the pockets of my jean jacket as I walked toward the noise. I literally had no idea where I was going, only that I wanted to walk around the city and take everything in.

It was just past seven, the sun making its slow and lazy descent over the city and casting golden rays of light between the buildings and through the trees. I let my eyes wander the length of each building as I passed it, let my soul fill up with the knowledge that I was perhaps walking in the same place Botticelli had when he was alive.

I smiled when a group of American girls around my age walked past, their arms linked together, each of them leaning in and giggling over something said in hushed voices. It was easy to tell they were from America from their lack of accent, and the fact that they looked like they walked right off the set of Clueless.

I absolutely loved their outfits — the plaid miniskirts and matching suit jackets, the over-the-knee white stockings, the adorable saddle shoes. It was a look I’d tried a time or two before realizing I just didn’t have the perk to go along with it.

Usually, I would duck my head and walk right by them, admiring silently.

Tonight, I decided to try something new.

“I love your outfits,” I said when they’d nearly passed.

Their laughs stopped instantly, and they all whipped around, confused at first before wide smiles split their faces.

“Oh my God, thank you!” the tallest of the bunch said.

“I love your jacket, too,” the one to her left added.

“Thanks,” I said as they giggled and waved goodbye to me, and then they were linked up again and on their way.

I smiled to myself as I walked the next block, and where my eyes had sort of lost focus on the cobblestone street, I suddenly looked up at a sign in Italian that I didn’t understand. But one look at the products in the window and I didn’t have to guess.