When I calmed down, I pulled away and wiped my face, sniffing and staring at where my hands twisted in his flannel shirt.
“Will you stay with me tonight?” I asked.
The pained sigh that came from his chest told me he knew he shouldn’t.
But the kiss he pressed to my lips gave me hope that he would.
After telling my supervisor I wasn’t feeling well, Liam helped me gather my things and walked me home. I took a quick shower and slipped into an oversized t-shirt, and then Liam held the covers open for me to crawl into bed beside him. He wrapped himself around me, shielding me from the day, and with my back nestled against his chest, I finally felt stable again.
“I should go,” he whispered in my ear when I was half-asleep.
But I turned in his arms to face him, pulling him close and pressing my lips to his as my hands trailed down between us where he was already growing hard.
And then I gave him every reason not to.
The Art of Fireworks
The 1996 Summer Olympics opening ceremony set flame to an already burning hot summer.
Atlanta had the entire world’s attention, including every pair of eyes in the city of Florence. The streets were full with locals and tourists alike, bars setting up televisions and filling the sidewalks with chairs and tables. Street vendors crowded the space, too, with flags for nearly every country available for purchase. Italy’s pride was palpable, but so was that of the Americans and British students, of the French and Austrian tourists on holiday, of the Greek and Turkish inhabitants, of the Russian and Japanese visitors.
We were an entire world in one little Tuscan city.
Angela and I worked all day on our red, white, and blue outfits, and then we’d promptly taken a long nap to prepare for the evening. Since the ceremony was in Atlanta, that meant it wouldn’t even start until at least one in the morning in Florence.
It was going to be a long night.
Angela wore a tiny pair of white shorts, and a red tube top with platform sneakers to match. She’d braided red, white, and blue glitter yarn into her hair and had glittery red lips, too. I’d gone a little more casual, opting for a red crop top under my overall shorts, and I left one strap off so you could see the American flag on the shirt underneath. I braided my hair, too, into two French braid pigtails, and tied blue ribbons at the bottom.
We both had little American flags we picked up from one of the vendors, and we waved them around like banshees as we joined in the street party. Music blasted from every bar, and yet you could barely hear it over the various national anthems being sung all over town.
It had been a little over a week since my parents called, and other than telling Liam and Angela the news, I’d done little more to process it.
If anything, I was trying to forget it, at least for the time being.
And most definitely for tonight.
“This is insane!” Angela said as we weaved through the crowd.
“We need to find somewhere to actually watch the ceremony.”
“Come on. I heard of a place.”
She led the way until we escaped some of the party and slipped into a slightly less crowded area consisting mostly of shops that were closed for the night. But tucked between a shop that sold chess boards and one that sold watches was a narrow bar, and we ducked inside to find a small table with two blessedly empty chairs.
“Look! It’s starting!” I screeched when we plopped down, and all eyes were on the three box-set televisions suspended above the bar.
After a beautiful song was played by the Atlanta Symphony Orchestra, President Bill Clinton made his entrance to present the colors, and our national anthem rang out in a small Italian bar.
Pride swelled in my chest, tears building in my eyes at the overwhelming feeling. Angela laughed and gave me a playful shove, but I couldn’t help it. Never in a million years would I have imagined being in Italy, let alone studying art in the Renaissance capital of the world. And to have such a momentous, worldwide occasion happening at the same time? It was just all too much.
Angela ran to the bar long enough to order us two beers — Bud Lights, since it was the only American beer we could get — and then we settled in to watch the performances unfold.
I was completely lost in Gladys Knight’s mesmerizing rendition of “Georgia on My Mind” when two chairs were plopped down on either side of Angela and me. We both jumped, being stirred from our daze, and then Liam filled the seat next to me as Thomas took the one next to Angela.