Authors: Marie Meyer
“I’m sorry, that was a dumb question.” He waved his hand. “I just wanted to know if you wanted to get some coffee or something. There’s a café just a short walk from the ruins.” He pointed in that direction.
I fidgeted with the map in my hands, pressing the corner down one way and then unfolding it to press it down the opposite direction.
Play it cool, Soph. Decline his offer and leave.
“Thanks, but I can’t. It was nice to meet you, Lucas.”
His lips pressed into a tight smile, hiding his dimple. “Can I at least get your number? If you want to ditch the group you’re traveling with, you could give me a call.”
I bit my bottom lip, cringing slightly. I had to give him credit; he didn’t give up easily. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
Trust me, Lucas, I am not the girl for you….No future here, walk on by.
“Right,” he drawled. “Can’t blame a guy for trying.” He winked. “It was nice meeting you, Sophia.”
“Yeah, nice to meet you.” I smiled back.
There was a sparkle in his eyes as I turned to leave, for good this time. Bumping into Lucas put me off my schedule, not that the permanent inhabitants of Pompeii cared much; they weren’t going anywhere, but strangely, I didn’t care that I was off schedule either…I was actually enjoying myself.
T
he sun grew hotter as the day went on, but I was determined to see all the major tourist attractions Pompeii had to offer. The next stop on my self-guided tour was the House of the Vettii. I paused my podcasted tour before I went inside the house and searched for the bottle of water in my bag. After taking a few long swigs, I stowed it and made my way inside, pressing
PLAY
on my phone. The tour guides picked up where they’d left off, directing me into the home of two freedmen who once lived here, Aulus Vettius Restitutus and Aulus Vettius Conviva. With all the ancient knowledge I’d already gained in my first couple of hours spent on the streets of Pompeii, I was turning into a history buff instead of a science geek.
With my left earbud fit snuggly into my ear, I listened as the tour guides directed my attention to the right side of the vestibule upon entering the Vettii home. There, halfway up the wall on the right side, in all its grandeur, was the fresco of Priapus. According to my guides, this painting wasn’t meant to be distasteful, even though the man depicted in the artwork was weighing his massive erection against a bag of money on a balance scale. According to historians, the fresco was meant to symbolize the wealth and strength of the homeowners, the Vettii brothers.
As I continued to listen to my guides, keeping my eyes on Priapus and his prodigious phallus, I felt a tickle at my right ear. “Impressive, isn’t it?”
“Ahh!” I shouted, turning around and leaping backward at the same time. I slapped my hands over my mouth, realizing how loudly I’d shouted. The guy I’d bumped into in the Forum this morning stood behind me, grinning like an ass. Lucas.
He chuckled. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
Lowering my hands to my chest in an attempt to slow my thumping heart and find the ability to breathe again, I sighed. “Yes, you did.” He was such a liar.
“Okay, maybe I did. Payback for this morning.” He laughed again, showcasing that striking dimple in his left cheek. “Fancy meeting you here.”
“Yes, fancy that.” I took another deep breath and paused my podcast. I pulled the earbud from my left ear, keeping my attention focused on him.
Lucas tucked a hand in his pocket and smirked. “So, you
are
alone.”
What was it with this guy? “Why are you so concerned about my potential lack of travel companions?” I still didn’t want to clue him in on my solo status, even though he looked completely harmless. I couldn’t let my guard down.
“Like I said before, I’d love to get something to eat. We can talk. I’m headed to Herculaneum next. I’m here alone.” He gestured to the empty space around him. “We could buddy up. Keep each other company. You could give me your number.”
I eyed him warily. The little voice I heard this morning still echoed in the back of my head—the one that suggested he may be a criminal—but the sound was fading the more I stared into his extraordinarily blue eyes. “Where are you from?” I asked, like that made a difference. It wasn’t like sex slave traders didn’t live and work in the United States, too.
“San Diego, California.” He held his hand out for me to shake. “Lucas Walsh.”
Hesitantly, I reached for his hand. The moment our palms touched, he latched his fingers around mine, like he had this morning. My heart threatened to jump into my throat. Our connection had been restored. The power came back on and my body hummed with energy.
Pumping my arm up and down, he smiled confidently. “Nice to meet you, Linebacker. See, now we’re friends. Now you can have lunch with me.”
I raised an eyebrow and lowered my hand from his. “Linebacker?”
In my soccer-playing days, I’d been a fierce defender, known to plow through an advance made by the opposing team, but I was highly certain that didn’t qualify me for linebacker status. “Are you insulting my size? Sure, I may not be petite at five-seven, but I don’t think I look like a football player,” I teased, keeping a straight face. It was time to have a little fun with him and his cocky self-assurance.
A look of horror wiped the smug, handsome grin off his face. “No! God, I’m so sorry!” He clutched both of my hands, my phone and earbuds, too, between his long fingers. “This morning, when you bumped into me…I just…I…”
It was my turn to laugh.
God, it feels good to laugh.
Since my heart-to-heart with dear old Dad, I hadn’t laughed at anything. “I’m joking!” I said through a fit of giggles.
He smiled and let go of my hands, shoving his into his pockets. “Well, I can see I’ve screwed this up.” He took his right hand from his pocket and ran it through his sun-bleached blond hair.
“Ah, come on. What happened to Mr. Confident?” I teased.
With a closed mouth, he flashed a nanosecond grin. “Insulting the girl you want to take to lunch isn’t my best move.”
He was so cute with his hunched shoulders and brooding pout. “Ah, come on, don’t be like that. I was only joking. I like the nickname.” I was such a liar.
Cocking his head to the side, he peered at me from beneath heavy lids. I could see his ego inflating like a balloon as the hunch in his stance disappeared. “Good. Then it’s a date.”
My head tilted, mirroring his. “I don’t recall agreeing to that.”
“Technicality.”
“You don’t give up, do you?”
“Not when it’s important.”
Important? Having lunch with me is important? Okay? That was random.
I stared at him for a beat. He seemed genuine. I wasn’t picking up on any malicious vibes. I chewed the inside of my cheek, contemplating my next move. I hated deviating from my itinerary, but what harm could come from having lunch with a fellow American? It might even be nice to share what Italy has to offer with another person.
“Okay,” I sighed.
“I knew you’d cave.”
“But,” I shouted over his gloat, “before I go with you, you have to answer some questions.”
“Shoot.” He nailed me with his striking eyes, and I felt it in my core. With him staring at me, it was a miracle I could form a coherent thought.
“What’s your full name, date of birth, and your most favorite place to eat?”
He gave a puzzled look but obliged. “Lucas Tyler Walsh, June twenty-fourth, 1991, favorite place to eat…here or back home? Obviously the answers aren’t the same.”
“Both,” I countered.
“Here: Jacks N Joe. Hometown: Hash House A Go Go.”
“Those don’t sound like real restaurants…” My voice trailed off. He was messing with me.
“Oh, honey. I assure you they are.” Lucas folded his arms across his chest and smirked, stepping closer to me, allowing an elderly couple to skirt around us to get a look at the well-endowed fresco behind me. “Although, I’m curious as to what job I’m applying for? I didn’t realize an interview was required to be your lunch date.”
“I’m covering my bases. If you turn out to be a kidnapper whose sole purpose is to sell me into a sex trafficking ring, I want you to know that my family back home has your full name, DOB, and the restaurants you frequent most often.”
“Want my social, too?” he offered arrogantly.
I raised an eyebrow. “You just hand that information out freely? You’re an identity thief’s wet dream.”
“We’re a fine pair, then, a sex trafficker and an identity thief. This lunch date has potential.” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively and laughed. It was a delightful sound that coaxed a smile to my lips instantly.
“What?” I quibbled, still smiling. “I’m a female, traveling alone. I’ve got to be cautious.”
“Ha!” Lucas unfolded his arms quickly and pointed at me. “I knew you were alone.”
I sucked in a breath. “Ahh! I hadn’t meant to say that.”
Dammit!
“Well, rest assured, Sophia, I am not in the sex slave business.” He raised his hands, palms up, a sign of surrender. “Unless of course the girl
wants
to be my sex slave. I wouldn’t argue with that.” A wicked smile turned up the corners of his mouth.
My mouth dropped open. Self-assured or not, I couldn’t believe he said that.
“Joking.” He jabbed my shoulder. “In all honesty, it would be nice to have a conversation where I don’t have to translate every other word that comes out of my companion’s mouth. Lunch and good
English
conversation. That’s it. And your number.”
I hesitated, still not sure this was such a good idea. He looked harmless enough, but…“Okay,” I answered warily. “And you’re not getting my number.”
“We’ll see.” He winked again and my stomach twisted into a pretzel. Damn that wink. Damn that dimple. What the hell was my problem? I felt like my inexperience with guys was scrolling across my forehead like a stock ticker on Wall Street:
Sophia hasn’t been out with a guy since high school.
Then there was his comment about his willing sex slave. Mental images of a naked Lucas ordering a scantily clad version of me to perform various sex acts. I felt my cheeks warm to a brilliant pink, well on their way to red, as the veins and capillaries in my face dilated.
Brushing my hands over my cheeks, I tried to regain my composure, but Lucas and his tall and well-defined body didn’t make that very easy.
Lucas gestured toward the atrium. “Check out the rest of the house?”
A weird mix of excitement and trepidation coursed through my system. “Sure,” I answered cautiously.
No, he’s a stranger…and what is this feeling in the pit of my stomach? I am not allowed to be excited by this prospect…by him.
Yet, I ignored the warning from my rational side and we walked into the atrium together.
I
stepped back onto the Viocolo dei Vettii with Lucas right behind me. The street was drenched in sunlight and it took my eyes a second to adjust to the glare. Shielding my eyes with my hand, I glanced left, then right. I prided myself on my sense of direction, but I’d been turned around all day. The ruins were not easy to navigate. Fumbling with my messenger bag, I pulled my map free.
“Well, that was interesting,” Lucas said, resting his right hand on the small of my back. He pressed close to me and leaned over my shoulder, getting a look at the map in my hands. My cheeks felt hot, and I was certain it didn’t have anything to do with the sun blazing in the sky.
Throughout the Vettii house, Lucas found small ways to touch me. I didn’t know quite what to make of it. Was he overly friendly? Forward? Whatever it was, I wasn’t complaining. He could keep his hand on my back and his body hovering close to mine as long as he wanted. Lucas’s touch made me feel…
things
.
He cleared his throat and pointed at the map with his right hand, which he’d moved from my back to rest it on my right shoulder.
Oh, sweet Jesus, he smells good…a weird, intoxicating blend of citrus and mint, coupled with a heady masculine scent.
“Where are we headed next?” he asked, his breath tickling my ear.
His proximity made it difficult to formulate a coherent thought. “Umm…I think if we follow this street down, we’ll get to—”
“The Lupanare Grande.” He jabbed his index finger on the light blue triangle near the center of town, cutting off my sentence.
I peered over my left shoulder to get a look at his face. “Wolves?”
A devilish smile turned up his lips and he winked. Grabbing my hand, he spun me around quickly and pulled me down the uneven street.
Jogging to match his pace, I called after him, “Geez, where’s the fire?” My shoe caught on one of the stones and I nearly face-planted.
“Your Latin’s not too shabby, Sophia,” he said.
Out of breath, I glared at him. “I’m a med student. Latin’s kind of a thing in medicine. And you’re an expert on dead languages how?”
Again, he looked my direction and smiled, his dimple on full display.
Ugh, that dimple is going to be the death of me.
“I took four years of Spanish in high school. Latin, Spanish, Italian, Portuguese, they’re all similar. Although, I do enjoy the nuances of learning a new language. I’m a geek in more ways than one.”
“How are you a geek?” I raised my eyebrows and gave him a sidelong glance. His definition of geek was clearly very different from mine. He did not fit the stereotypical definition of geek. No thick-rimmed, Coke-bottle glasses, no pocket protector or high-waist jeans. As a matter of fact, he looked like he could grace the cover of any of my favorite romance novels.
He mimicked my smart-ass stare. “I design video games for a living. It doesn’t get much geekier than that.”
Yep, again, not what I expected.
“You don’t live in your mom’s basement, do you?”
The dimple faded away as his smile disappeared, like I’d flipped a light switch off. His expression darkened. “Uh…no.” He shook his head. “Right now, my current address is Napoli, Italy.”
He let go of my hand and pushed it into his pocket. His playful demeanor vanished, replaced with an awkward heaviness. I didn’t like that my comment was responsible for turning out his light, making his smile disappear.
“I’m sorry, that was supposed to be a joke.”
“Hey,” he chuckled, bumping his elbow against my shoulder, “no worries.” Displaying that gorgeous dimple of his again, the heaviness lifted.
Our earlier hustle to get to the Lupanare Grande was replaced by a slow, steady walk down the ancient street.
“So, you’re from California?” I asked, fidgeting with the map. I was glad to have something to do with my hands, a way to expend my nervous energy.
He nodded. “I am.”
“What brought you to Italy?”
“Shit happened back home. I needed a break.” He shrugged. “Italy seemed like a good idea.” Glancing down at me, he smirked. “What about you? What’s your story?”
“I don’t really have a story.” Not one worth sharing anyway.
“Oh, come on. No offense, but you don’t seem like the ‘backpack across Europe’ type. What’s the deal?”
Oh, just living the dream while I still can. You see, I may have a degenerative genetic disorder, Huntington’s disease. Sexy, huh?
But that wasn’t something I needed to unload on a complete stranger.
I nudged his arm this time, making a show of looking at his back. “I don’t see you sporting a backpack, either.”
“Touché. Nope, not a backpack kind of guy.”
“Hmm, that’s what I thought.”
There was a lull in our conversation. I sneaked a peek at him as we walked down the uneven street. He wore a distant, far-off mask, like he was remembering something sad. Then, out of the blue, he bristled and shrugged, like he was throwing an unpleasant memory off his back. “What about you?” he said, turning his head to look at me. “Do you live in your mom’s basement?”
For a brief second, I saw a glimpse of heartbreak. Whatever brought him to Italy must have been painful. There was a pang of sorrow in my heart. I didn’t know this guy, but my heart wanted to open and carry some of the burden he buried deep inside. I didn’t like seeing him sad.
“No.” I pressed my lips into a tight smile, trying to keep from laughing.
Laughter is the best medicine, right? If I can make him laugh, will it take away some of the pain I just saw on his face?
“I live on the main floor.”
And there it was—the light switch flipped back on and his features brightened. “The main floor, huh?” He withdrew his hands from his pockets and reformed our connection, squeezing our joined palms for added measure.
Was it supposed to feel this nice, holding the hand of a man I’d just meet? I probably should have been more cautious, but something about the way Lucas touched me said that I could trust him. “Right between Mom’s room on the left and Nonna’s on the right.”
He cocked an eyebrow but kept the lighthearted smile. “So, why is it okay for a twentysomething woman to live with her mother, but the second a twentysomething man says he lives with Mom, it’s frowned upon?”
That was a good question and a total double standard. I didn’t have an answer, so I shrugged.
“We’ll have to figure that one out later.” Lucas came to a halt and looked upward. “This is it, I think.”
Following his gaze, I took in the large, oddly shaped building. It was a two-story structure whose smaller bottom half supported the larger top portion. “So what does this place have to do with wolves?”
Lucas looked back to me. “Not wolves…she-wolves.”
“She-wolves?”
“It’s a brothel.”
“Oh.” Turning my eyes back to the building, I slowly raised my head toward the sky.
“Let’s go inside.” Still holding hands, we walked to the end of the line of people waiting to enter the brothel.
The line moved quickly and as we approached the entrance, Lucas dropped my hand in favor of clutching my waist.
Umm…I’m entering a brothel with a hot stranger and he’s got his hands on me. Yeah, this happens in real life…this isn’t weird or anything.
My pulse sped up and I feared my heart would beat right out of my chest as we stepped over the threshold.
Inside, the hallway was illuminated by track lighting, drawing the eye upward. Several lights were focused on ancient frescoes, a veritable menu of sex acts Roman prostitutes offered their clients.
My cheeks flushed hot. The naughty pictures and Lucas’s hands were too much. In my mind, I knew how ridiculous this situation was.
I’m mean, who picks up a stranger in a foreign country and touches her like this?
But, dammit, my body’s reaction to him, his intoxicating scent of sunshine and man, and the way he hovered behind me, one would think I’d never been in the presence of a person with the XY chromosome.
Pull yourself together, Soph.
I needed something to take my mind off the way his incredibly large hands circled around my middle. With a deep breath, I reached into my bag, dug deep inside, unzipped the small pouch at the bottom, and withdrew my phone. I took Mom’s abundant warnings about Naples and pickpockets to heart. Before I left home, I made sure my bag was as thief-proof as possible. So far, I hadn’t had any trouble. I prayed my good fortune continued.
Lucas’s fingertips pressed into the sides of my abdomen, guiding me to the right. My breath caught and a shiver ran through my body.
Oh, good Lord, I do pray my good fortune continues.
Lucas and I shuffled along, like all the tourists crowding into the small space. Maybe putting his hands on me was nothing more than a way to accommodate what little room we had in the ruin, or a way to make sure we stayed together.
Yeah, that’s got to be it.
My heart sank at the despairing thought, because as much as I didn’t want to like his hands there, as much as I shouldn’t like his hands there…I really
really
did.
Shoving down my disappointment, I focused my attention on the paintings, the different sex acts: doggie style, girl on top, cunnilingus, each rendering more explicit than the next.
“The Romans were a bunch of horndogs, huh?” Lucas whispered in my ear.
I shuddered. His words and breath wielded an unspeakable amount of power over my body and rational thoughts. Or maybe it was his voice combined with the explicit paintings I was looking at. Whatever it was, my pulse was racing like I’d just passed the halfway point in a marathon.
Give me my 13.1 sticker now!
My throat was dry, yet I scratched out a weak response. “Apparently.”
Like the other tourists, I aligned my phone’s camera, centering a shot of a fresco depicting a kneeling man holding on to a woman’s butt, her legs draped over his shoulders, and snapped the picture. Dirty paintings weren’t something I usually took pictures of, but this was history, so it’s okay…at least that’s what I told myself.
Lucas and I moved to the next painting, and I clicked another photo. Everyone around us had cameras out, snapping away. All except Lucas. As a matter of fact, I hadn’t seen him take one picture.
Who comes to Pompeii and doesn’t take pictures?
I glanced over my shoulder and smirked. “Don’t want to remember any of this for later?” I joked, finding my voice.
Even in the dim light I saw Lucas’s brilliant blue eyes flash. He tapped the side of his head with his index finger. “It’s all up here.”
I shook my head, smiling, and went back to my picture taking.
We were inching along through the crowd when Lucas pulled me to the side. “Check this out.” He ducked into a tiny room, and I followed him inside. There was nothing but a stone bed built into the back wall. Actually, the entire main floor was occupied with several rooms identical to this one.
Lucas moved about the meager room, lightly running his index finger over some of the Latin graffiti etched into the wall. “Cozy,” he said facetiously.
I sat down on the bed and held my phone out. “Will you take my picture?”
He smiled, dimple and all, and I could have melted into a puddle right then. Taking the phone from my hands, his fingers brushed over mine.
Crossing my legs, I folded my hands in my lap, tilted my head slightly, and smiled, ready for him to snap a quick picture so we could move on. I did not like being on display. I felt very exposed, like he could see all my secrets as he centered me in the camera’s frame.
Lucas held the phone in front of his face. Lines of concentration creased his forehead. He tilted his head to the left, then to the right, and moved the phone from side to side.
A dull ache bloomed in my cheeks, and I muttered through my forced smile, “Take the dang picture already.”
“You’re in a brothel, Linebacker. You can’t sit on that bed and pretend you’re at a Southern cotillion.” Lucas motioned with his hand. “Give me something. Ham it up a bit.”
“Uh-uh.” I shook my head. “There are too many people around. Just take the picture so we can move on.”
He peered over the phone, grinning smugly. “Prop your feet up and toss your head back.”
“Ugh!” I groaned, standing up. One stomp in his direction and I held my hand out for my phone. “I’ll take a selfie.”
“Better yet, let’s take a selfie together.” He did that eyebrow-wiggle thing again.
“Fine.” I turned and walked back to the bed with Lucas at my side. “You are really annoying. You know that, right?”
He nodded enthusiastically, proud to have earned that distinction.
We sat down and he put his arm around me, holding the phone out with the other arm. Moving his hand, he centered our faces in the screen. I plastered on a white, toothy grin, my ordinary “say cheese” smile. But when Lucas smiled, there was nothing ordinary about it. He had the most beautifully shaped lips. They turned up at the edges, framed by subtle laugh lines that sang of a past full of laughter and happiness. Right now, that laughter manifested as light shining from his wide, playful eyes. I could stare at him all day long.
“Nope.” He dropped his hand. “This won’t do.”
“What? That would have been a great picture.” I looked at him. “Who are you, Annie Leibovitz or something? I’m beginning to understand why you don’t take pictures.”
“Here.” He scooted closer and hooked his arm around my waist and lifted me onto his lap, our faces an inch apart. My heart lurched. I looked into his eyes, falling into their endless blues. His gaze crashed over me like a heavy ocean wave while at the same time I was flying in a clear, cloudless sky.
It was only when he licked his lips, drawing my attention to his mouth, that I was able to stop staring at his eyes.
My arms had nowhere to go but to circle around his neck. “What are you doing?” I whispered.
He inhaled my whisper with his open mouth, pulling my expelled breath into his lungs. “Making this picture better,” he intoned, his voice deep, an edge to his words.
Without breaking eye contact, he situated me on his lap and held the phone out again.
Click.