Red Running Shoes - 15. Tonight

"Hey Rick. I'm going over to Sandro's tonight. He said he has finished the collage and invited me for dinner to celebrate. That okay?"

My cousin leaned back, crossed his arms in front of him and frowned. "So, the great artist is finally ready to show off his work? After what…?” He made a production out of looking at his watch. “Five weeks? And we’re not invited?”

“Um…”

He waved his hand about. “If Sandro wasn’t always gallivanting with you all over the island, it would have gone a lot faster.”

“He was just showing me the sights. I didn’t know you had—”

“The sights, uh-huh.” He cocked an eyebrow. “So when are common people like us allowed to see this great piece of art then?"

Common people? And finally I got that he was pulling my leg. So I stood up straight, looked down at him along my nose while pointing with my finger. "You just have to wait till it's your turn, peasant. First comes the muse and guest of honor - that would be me. Then the commoners - that would be you," I said haughtily.

"Ahahaha … we'll try to practice on our patience then."

"You do that. It would become you. In the meantime, just to stay on my good side, you could make my bed and clean my room. And just for your information, I’ve counted my boxer briefs. I'm just saying…" Winking, I quickly turned to run before he threw something heavy after me.

"Out of my office! Now!"

Still grinning, I went into the kitchen next. "Matteo, I've got a big favor to ask of you. U-hm …do you remember that delicious wine we had a few weeks ago?”

He frowned, then nodded. “After you filled in for Tomaso the first time?”

“Yes. Could I have two bottles please? I'll pay for them of—”

"For the dinner with Sandro tonight?"

"Yeah…H-how did you know?"

"It was a Chianti and it’s one of Sandro’s favorites. He always has it when he’s here and it goes with his food.” Matteo narrowed his eyes at me. “You really know him well. Although I guess, having you over tonight means a lot more to Sandro than having the right wine for dinner."

"Matteo…"

"Have you really thought this through, Jonah?”

“What do you mean?”

“You know exactly what I mean. You still have unfinished business in my opinion. You need to talk to Ren.”

What!?

“I don’t think so.” When I saw he wanted to argue, I lifted my hand and stopped him. “I know exactly what you want to say. I’ve thought about the conversation we had a few weeks ago. I will even agree with you that there are some inconsistencies. But I am also sure they are easily explained. Fact is, Ren cheated on me, he even admitted to it. In my book there is no excuse for that. Not with me. After what happened with Eric, he knew…” I had to swallow. “He just knew.”

“But you don’t really know—”

“He admitted it!” I was yelling so loudly now, Rick must have heard me in his office. “And even if you are right and nothing happened between him and Eric and it was just a harmless dinner between friends—” I scoffed at the idea alone. Yeah right, with all the touching that was going on. “This would make it only worse. Don’t you get that? Because then he hurt me on purpose saying the one thing he knew would cut me into shreds - would make me run.”

I turned around and stared at the notes on the corkboard without reading them. “You don’t do that to the person you love. If he hadn’t said that…”

Matteo nodded once. “Okay. It’s just that Sandro is a dear friend and he’s really starting to like you, just don’t hurt him.”

“I told him about Ren. He knows exactly where I am right now. I know you care for us Matteo, and I appreciate it. I really do, but sometimes…you just gotta go for it.”

“That’s good. That you told him about Ren I mean.” He briefly closed his eyes and shook his head. “Wait here; I’ll get the wine for you. And you don't need to pay for it."

"Please, Matteo. It wouldn't be a proper present otherwise."

He rolled his eyes at me. "Fine, pay for the wine if it makes you feel better then."

Five minutes later he showed me two dusty bottles. "Is this the wine you wanted?"

"Yes, thank you, Matteo. How—”

"I don't want your money; you may work for it though."

"All right." I squeezed his shoulder. "Don't be angry with me, I'd take it if it were for me, but it's a present. It wouldn't feel right."

"Yeah, yeah, it's okay, Jonah. You're just a complicated man sometimes." He hugged me and then went back to what he was doing before, murmuring in Italian about family treats. "And don't forget to wear something nice tonight. You’ve been invited to your very own art show." Before I could say another word, he started to chop meat. Loudly.

***

Once again, I was in front of Sandro's house, the bag with the two bottles of wine dangling heavily from my hand. It had been a mistake to tell Matteo I had nothing 'nice' to wear. He had immediately dropped everything and dragged me to his favorite outfitter. Now I stood there, feeling slightly foolish in my light gray silk shirt, dark gray pinstriped vest with matching pants and dress shoes. Not to mention the black tie, my fedora, and Matteo's antique silver pocket-watch, its chain attached to one of the buttons on the vest. I’m pretty sure Matteo enjoyed dressing me up more than I did.

Please God, don't let me be overdressed!

As soon as I saw Sandro wearing all black, I mentally hugged Matteo. Sandro looked gorgeous.

"I could get you some binoculars, I mean, if you’d rather try to look at it from the door. I'd prefer if you'd come inside, though."

Congratulations Jonah; you just very expertly made a fool of yourself. Again.

"Yeah, sorry." I grinned sheepishly, and hurried past him, while he held the door open for me. After locking up behind us, he ushered me to the back of the shop. “Ta-da!”

I hadn’t noticed it before: the whole room was dark. Only the photos were illuminated by several well-placed spotlights and the candlelight coming from the table. A table which, this time, was set very date-like, very impress-your-boyfriend, including silver candleholders, crystal glasses and a white table cloth.

Shit.

Finally, my eyes were back on the photos, riveted on the two life-size pictures. The one Sandro had before: a blond guy standing with his back to the camera while looking into a mirror. The second was of me. After lengthy discussions I had chosen the photograph of me leaning against the desk, daring everyone to come closer. At least that was what Rick had said when he saw it. I had never seen it full size size until then, framed and perfectly illuminated.

"Do you like it?" Sandro was squeezing my hand almost painfully. “What do you think?”

What did I think? To be honest, I was overwhelmed. That picture over there on the wall was me, naked. I pointed at the other life-sized guy. “He is the opposite of me. Type-wise I mean.” My glance fell on the smaller pictures. “Each picture has its counterpart on the other side, like him and me. Did you plan this when you took the photos?"

"Yes, somehow I did, although…that I could find a match for every single one of them surprised me actually." He gave me a black sharpie. "Would you sign your picture?

My gaze darted around, taking everything in. “You know, this is perfect, it looks…finished. If you wanted to add another photograph you’d need a matching pair to stay with the theme.”

Sandro smiled. “Yep. This one is finished.” He nodded at the sharpie in my hand. “The customers often look for the man their favorite hat is named after. And sometimes, if they can't decide which one they want, they take the hat of the guy they like the most."

"Really? That's a rather odd reason to decide on a hat, huh?" I pulled the cap from the sharpie, signed the photograph, my photograph, and then took a step back. I'd never thought I could look so…so good. Sandro really was an amazing photographer.

"Great, let’s have dinner." Sandro stood by the table where he had pulled the chair out for me.

After I sat down, he walked over to a small catering trolley I hadn't noticed before, and lifted the lid of a soup tureen.

"Hmm, this almost smells like Matteo's broccoli-almond soup." I took in a deep breath.

"This is Matteo's broccoli-almond soup. I know how to make a plain pasta casserole, but I wanted to serve something special tonight, so I asked Matteo if he could help me. And you know him … he immediately took over and cooked the whole dinner for us. How could I decline such a generous offer?” He looked a little insecure. “Are you disappointed with me now?"

"No, of course not. Why should I be?” And then I finally understood. “That's why he knew about the dinner …"

"It's a bit like cheating though, don't you think?"

"If I wanted to have a perfect photograph or a unique hat, I would ask you to make it and not try to do it myself. Matteo is the best cook I know, so you just let him do what he does best, and we simply enjoy the results."

"I'm glad you think so. And the idea of you making a hat…maybe you should try it one day. Could be interesting."

"If you want, I could maybe crochet or knit a beanie for you. My sister insisted if she had to learn knitting and crocheting, I had to also. I even remember how to make a bobble…" I grinned.

"An intriguing idea, I might come back to that later in the year." He smiled. "Do you mind some music?"

"I'd like that."

Sandro filled our glasses with the Chianti I had brought for dinner. While we were eating, he told me how he and his friend had worked with the photographs. “We had them on a virtual wall on the computer first, before we did it on the actual wall. We also had some, um… heated arguments, aka educated discussions, about the pictures and how we should ultimately arrange them.”

“And now it’s finished.”

“Yes.”

“You won’t take any more pictures of men wearing your hats?”

“Oh I will. I have plans for this collage actually. Some friends and I own a small shop in Milan, well, more a design studio with a shop actually. Daniele designs men’s fashion and Luca frames for eyeglasses. They saw some pictures and now they want ‘Naked Men with Hats’ for the shop. If we move it, I have space for another project.”

“Milan. Wow.”

“Nothing is final yet, they will come here in a few weeks, and then we’ll decide if we’re really doing this.”

In return, I told him of Alec's books, and that he wanted me to edit his new one, even though it would once again end in Word War II. Sandro was a good listener. I found that talking to him was easier than I’d expected. I could imagine people sometimes telling him more than they intended to. Every now and then Sandro would get up to clear the table and serve another delicious course. Matteo really had outdone himself this time.

We were finishing dinner with an espresso, when Sandro asked me if I'd like to have a last glass of wine with him on the roof.

"On the roof?"

"Yes, it's so hot during the summer that the people here like to sit up there in the evening, enjoying the wind coming from the sea and sometimes we even sleep there. It's a great feeling with only the stars and the moon above you."

"I'd like to see your roof terrace. Maybe we'll even get to see a shooting star."

He smiled at me. "Do you make a wish when you see one?"

"Every time," I admitted, feeling a little embarrassed.

"Awww, how cute."

"Don't laugh at me!" I punched his arm.

"Ow!" Still laughing, he handed me the wine bottle, grabbed a plate with assorted cheeses, and led me to a small staircase. Climbing up we reached a wooden door, and when he opened it, I could already feel a slight, refreshing breeze coming up from the sea.

"So, what do you think?" he asked expectantly.

I looked around, but I couldn’t see much, it was so dark. The flickering light from a small storm lamp on the floor illuminated a white awning, partially covering cushions and pillows lying on the ground. On a small table, between two very comfortable looking deck chairs, two wine glasses were already waiting for us.

"Nice. Obviously you were quite sure I'd like to see your roof terrace." I grinned and walked over to the table to pour us some wine. Passing him his glass, I grabbed some cheese from the plate in his hand, “I could never resist a nice piece of rotten milk with wine for dessert,” and popped it in my mouth. "Hmmm, is that Pecorino?" I asked, unconsciously licking the remains off my fingers. Staring at my fingers, he answered, "Yes. There is Caprino and Provola also."

"I love cheese, at least the none-moldy kind."

"Really? I would have never guessed." He looked pointedly at my hand, which already held a second piece, and grinned.

Slightly embarrassed, I settled myself cross-legged on one of the cushions on the floor. "It’s so quiet here. And you can even smell the sea." I let myself fall on my back, for the first time really seeing the stars above me. Some seemed so close, I was tempted to try and touch them “Wow!”

When Sandro didn’t answer I looked around, until I found him watching me almost hesitantly before he suddenly said, "I sometimes listen to Def Leppard."

"Okaaaaay." Why was he telling me this?

"There is this song I've been listening to for a few weeks, 'Tonight', and it, well, it…I don't know…um…expresses my feelings at the moment, better than I could ever do it with my own words. Would you listen to the song with me?"

"Uhm …. sure…"

He went over to a shelf in the background, and some moments later, I could hear the first notes of the song’s opening chords. Settling himself on the cushions next to me, Sandro leaned over just before the lyrics started. I could feel his warm breath on my ear "Listen to the song…"

And then Joe Elliott sang, “I don't wanna play the waiting game…”

I took in a few slow breaths and lowered my gaze.

Damn.

But he didn’t let me run away from this, and took my chin in his hand, making me look up again. “That's how I feel.”

I pressed my palm against his chest, feeling his rapid breathing.

"Jonah…" He took my hand and put it right over his heart, covering mine. I could feel the warmth of his skin under his Henley. He smelled like citrus and wine. I had to lean closer, inhale his scent, until my lips were almost touching his throat. One more move and it wouldn’t be almost…

Tonight?

He was questioning me with his eyes.

Yes.

Then the music stopped and Sandro lifted his hand as if he wanted to run it through my hair but he didn’t. "Jonah, I know I said I don't wanna be a rebound guy, but looking at your pictures the last few weeks…and it wasn't only your body I was seeing, but all these emotions showing in your eyes, your smiles…and listening to this song... I know you can't love me, at least not yet, but…please Jonah, give us a chance."

I’ve never been someone who decided rationally when it came to relationships. Nothing new here. Whether I thought long or a short, I always went with my gut feeling in the end. And I’d fallen flat on my face every time so far. I should have said ‘no’. The thing was I was starving. Starving for closeness, for affection, and yes, for a strong body under my hands too. But that wasn’t all of it. That I could have resisted. Whatever was growing between us, it felt good, it felt right. We somehow got each other, and even Matteo’s: ‘Don’t hurt him.’ didn’t help. I wanted this.

Still…

“I know the risk, Jonah. It isn’t as if you haven’t told me what happened, why you came here. Maybe it is wrong of me to do this to you.” He breathed in. “But I want to throw caution to the wind. I want to try to see where this could go with us.”

Damn.

The world seemed to shrink around us even though there was an endless night sky above our heads. I had problems breathing until I felt the steady thump, thump of his heartbeat. Suddenly the nagging feeling was gone and the decision was easy. I bent forward and brushed my lips against his. Holding my breath, I pulled back and waited.

Until I saw that goddamned gorgeous smile of his. It was all I had been waiting for. Taking his face in both my hands, I licked at his lower lip, then sucked at it. When he opened up, our tongues met almost tentatively at first, exploring each other. Sandro's hand moved from my shoulders to my neck, pulling me even closer while massaging my scalp with his thumb. Finally he let himself fall back, pulling me on top of him, our lips never losing contact.

We drank more wine, ate more cheese, talked about anything and everything. At some point, I loosened my tie and took off the vest and my shoes. Lounging on those pillows was far more comfortable than I would have thought.

It must have been way past midnight when he kissed along my throat, gently nipped at my collarbone, and then murmured, “Stay with me tonight?”

Wrapping my arms around Sandro's neck, I nodded. “Okay.” Lying beside him, his head on my chest I barely noticed that he pulled a light blanket over us.

When I woke, I felt a warm breeze on my skin.

Where…

I looked around, slightly disorientated. Why was I lying on some cushions under the open sky, a thin sheet barely covering my legs? Then I remembered last night, and I had to smile. Looking around I couldn’t see Sandro, but I could still smell his lingering scent on the pillow under my head and…on me.

Where did he go?

Then I saw him coming through the door, carrying a tray.

Yum, coffee.

"Good morning, Jonah. Missed me?" He smiled and came over, putting the tray on the floor beside the cushions, before he gave me a light kiss.

I wrapped my arms around his neck, and dragged him on top of me. "Yeah, as soon as I figured out why I was lying under the open sky." I grinned and snuggled my face against the crook of his neck.

Mmm, he smelled so good.

"Warm or cold coffee?"

Huh? Oh…

"Cold coffee would be nice." I lapped at his throat.

"I was hoping that would be your answer."

When I finally came home around three in the afternoon, I found a note pinned to my door.

'Hey lover boy, we thought you'd be trying to hide from us in your room. No chance though, we want a full report. Oh, and you got a phone call from Chris. He wants you to call him back. Rick'

Chris? Why did he call me?

First a special 'shout out for speedy editing' to Lisa and Zombie. You're the best, guys!
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