Say Yes (Nostalgic Summer Romance)

I blushed, dipping my gaze so much that my hair fell in front of my face. When the noise settled, the professor clapped his hands once and stood in the center of the circle of easels, regaining attention.

“Now,” he said. “Let’s discuss your reading. Why was Masaccio so instrumental to the Renaissance movement?”

A hand shot up across the room, but as the student began to answer, my focus fell to my painting again, pride swelling in my chest. I took my smallest paintbrush carefully in my right hand, the wood balanced between pinky and thumb, and I signed my name in the corner.

I could have sworn Venus’s smile was even wider than before.

Give ‘em hell, girl, she seemed to say.

And I planned on it.

“To you, you Leonardo da Vinci bitch,” Angela said that evening, lifting a shot of tequila my way.

I grimaced at the one in my own hand before we tapped glasses, and then on a silent prayer from me and a cin cin from my roommate, we threw them back.

I hissed as soon as the liquid was down my throat, immediately sucking on a lime. “Yuck.”

“Oh, it’s not that bad. Order another one, that usually helps the first one go down easier. Besides, we’re celebrating!” She winked, hovering her finger over our appetizer plate until she landed on a piece of crostini and popped it in her mouth. “I’m proud of you. I know this was an… interesting project.”

“To say the least. But as much as I hated the professor this time last week, I think he was right,” I admitted with a shrug. “I needed to break out. I needed to live a little. I needed to reach beyond the desire to be perfect.”

“You needed to have your heart smashed by a stronzo so you could channel your inner Venus.”

“A what?”

“It’s Italian for asshole.”

“I’ll have to remember that one.”

“Hopefully you won’t need to use it, but yes, always good to keep in the back pocket.”

“I like this spot,” I mused, looking around at our newest find. It was an outdoor café on the Arno River specializing in aperitivo. But with a full bar and a menu stacked with small bites, I had a feeling guests stayed long after their pre-dinner drink.

“Me, too. Best view in town,” Angela agreed.

I sighed and nodded in agreement, letting my eyes wander over the river and the bridge in the distance. But when I looked back at Angela, she was making eyes at a young woman on the other side of the patio.

I laughed. “Why don’t you go say hi?”

“No way! We’re celebrating.”

“One shot of tequila was plenty celebration for a Monday night,” I said. “Go. I’ll order us a couple more small plates just in case she’s straight.”

“The way she’s looking at me, I can tell you that will not be the case.”

“Then I’ll see you back home. Put a towel on the doorknob if I need to stay out later.”

She bit her lip. “Are you sure? I don’t want to leave you here alone after such an awesome day.”

“I like being alone,” I answered honestly. “Besides, I’m exhausted from the lack of sleep this weekend. I won’t be here much longer.”

She frowned even more.

“Angela, go,” I said with a laugh. “Before I drag you over there myself.”

That made her smile, and she leaned over to kiss my cheek before finally strolling over to the girl on the other side of the patio. She had dirty blond hair pulled back in a messy ponytail, and the way charcoal covered her fingertips, I knew she was some sort of artist. The way she watched Angela make her way over, I also knew she’d found her next muse.

I nibbled on a crostini as they exchanged greetings. The girl lit up with a laugh at something Angela said, and then she gestured for her to take the seat across from her, and that was that.

I sighed on a smile of my own, leaning back in my chair and appreciating the view of the river once more. It was a balmy evening, but the breeze was nice, and I peeled my hair off my neck to fully enjoy it.

I didn’t mind eating alone.

When I sat by myself, all the noise from the day, and from life, in general, faded away. I closed my eyes, breathing in the fresh air and feeling the sun warm on my face. And though most people saw black when they shut their eyes, I saw a myriad of colors, a universe of possibility waiting to be created.

Isolation wasn’t lonely.

It was clarifying.

“Not the best place to take a nap.”

My eyes shot open, and in place of the swirling light and colors I’d seen behind my eyelids, I now saw Liam standing above the chair Angela had left vacant.

He wasn’t wearing his usual smirk. If anything, he looked a little sheepish, his hands shoved in his pockets, and a hesitant curve on his lips. His hair was oily and messy, his shoulders slouched. For some reason it made me feel good to see him look like hell.