Say Yes (Nostalgic Summer Romance)

Written in chalk on a faded blackboard sign was chicken-scratch handwriting that said, in both Italian and English, Students at work. Models welcome. Knock before entering.

I was already shaking my head when I turned back to face Liam, but before I could protest, he rounded me and knocked on the large wooden door.

“Liam!” I hissed.

The door cracked open at first before opening a bit wider and revealing a petite girl with overalls and pigtails. Her height and attire made her look like she was twelve, but the way her eyes crinkled at the edges told me she was at least in her thirties.

“Models?” she asked in a thick accent, pointing to the two of us.

Liam nodded at the same time I shook my head.

The girl smiled, then held up her hand. “Hand models. We need.”

And in that instant, all the blood drained from my face.

The ringing in my ears from the concert was nothing compared to the way they rang now. The pitch spiraled higher and higher until it was all I could hear, even though I saw Liam’s lips moving and the girl’s moving, in return.

Liam turned and said something to me, but all I could do was stare and try to take my next breath, which seemed to be lodged in an unreachable space. My lungs burned with the need for oxygen. My soul burned with the need for space.

I read Liam’s lips as he mouthed my name, worry etched in his brow, and then he said something to the girl before grabbing me by the arms and steering me away from the building. I couldn’t even feel his hands on me. Everything was numb.

It wasn’t until we were several feet away that a breath finally found me, and I gasped as if I’d been submerged under water, tearing away from Liam’s grasp. My back hit the brick wall and I slid down, the brick scraping my skin even through my jacket as I fell to a seated position before hugging my knees to my chest.

I didn’t realize I was shaking my head over and over, vigorously, until Liam set a gentle hand on my shoulder. That touch snapped me out of my haze, and when I looked at him, at his brows bent together with concern, I realized my cheeks were soaked with tears.

I blinked, reaching my left hand up to wipe my face quickly before I buried my face in shame. “I’m sorry, but I… I can’t…”

“I know,” Liam said simply.

He lowered himself down to sit in front of me, his worn combat boots lining up next to my sneakers on the cobblestone. I stared at our shoes as silence fell over us, my labored breathing slowly evening out, the ringing in my ears softening.

“Will you tell me what happened?” Liam asked after a moment. “To your hand.”

I inhaled, exhaled, blinked several times, and then peeled my right hand out from where I’d had it tucked around my knees.

It seemed impossible, how steady I held it between us knowing Liam was staring at it.

At the part of me I was so used to hiding.

“I was born like this,” I whispered.

Liam swallowed, his eyes flicking to me and then back to my hand as he reached out. “May I?”

I didn’t answer but to close my eyes, and I kept them closed even after I felt his hands on mine, his rough and calloused palms and long, cool fingers exploring the foreign map of my underdeveloped hand.

I focused on my breathing as he traced my palm, dragging his fingers up and over my own, with gentle care around the smaller, not-fully-formed ones between my thumb and pinky.

After a moment, I creaked one eye open and then the next, watching Liam’s careful concentration as he explored.

He was so handsome it hurt.

His hair was still damp from the concert, a few strands sticking to his neck and the side of his face while the dry ones fell in front of his eyes. Those eyes were as dark as ever, roaming every inch of my hand under furrowed brows. The street was dark, save for a few hanging street lamps, and they cast an overhead glow that played with the shadows on his cheeks and jaw.

I was so used to people looking at my hand with disgust, or pity, or at the very best, curiosity.

I’d never seen someone stare at it with reverence before, like it wasn’t something to be pitied at all.

Like it was beautiful.

“I stopped growing before my due date,” I said softly. “The doctors didn’t notice until it had been four weeks or so with no growth, and then they had to take me early. When they did, I was a little small but otherwise fine.” I paused. “At least, they thought I was, until they saw my hand.”