“I know, “I tell Vincent. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be rude. I was just thinking about my summer. Life here is very different from back home in America. Were you born and raised in Caberra?”
I’m proud of myself for making polite conversation and keeping my head out of my daydream. It’s quite the feat and I’m doing it gracefully, if I do say so myself.
Vincent nods, then takes a big gulp of the expensive wine. And then another big gulp, draining his glass.
Interesting. Everyone else here, all of the people who know wine and other fine things, sip at their wine. Vincent gulps it. He’s clearly not a dignitary’s kid.
I pick up my own glass as he tells me about his home in the valley, how his father is a farmer and his mother stays at home. Apparently, they are fairly poor and so he is fascinated by stories about the wealth of Americans. Then I spend a few minutes explaining American economics and social structure and political structure and dispelling a few myths about Americans.
Like, we’re not all super rich and morbidly obese and we don’t all drive Porsches.
“I drive a used Honda Civic,” I finish up. I feel sort of good about that right now. Like the fact that I live on a farm and drive a used car keeps me grounded or something.
“Interesting,” Vincent nods. “You’re different than I expected. In a good way,” he hurries to add. I smile good-naturedly. I’ve heard that a lot this summer.
After we eat, we talk for a while longer and hang out around the table and then Mia finally, finally says, “Vincent, we should probably go. Don’t you think?”
Vincent immediately agrees and pushes away from the table.
He turns to me. “Thank you for the lesson on American culture. It was a pleasure to meet you away from the groves.”
His smile is sexy and charming and all, but Vincent doesn’t hold a candle to Dante. I smile back, though, and Mia and I exchange glances. I can tell that she is sort of happy to leave, too. Alone time is apparently a very valuable commodity. Dante and I walk them to the pier. We watch as they disappear into the shadows and then we turn to each other.
“What just happened?” Dante asks with a laugh. “That was not at all like I pictured this evening going.”
“And how did you picture it?” I ask. The waves are lapping gently at the pier and the stars are still twinkling overhead. The air is just turning chilly and I shiver slightly as the breeze hits my bare arms.
“Are you cold? Let’s go back on board,” Dante says. We walk back onto the yacht and return to the cushioned couches on the stern. He slips a jacket around my shoulders as I tuck my feet under me and then I face him while he settles into the cushions.
“Where were we?” I ask.
I’m nervous. Jittery. And I don’t know why. For some silly reason, I feel vulnerable. Like even though I am offering him something that I am ready to offer, it might backfire and crush me. And Dante would never, ever hurt me. I know that. I know it more surely than I know anything else. And I just said surely again.
Drat.
“It doesn’t matter where we were,” Dante says casually. “This is where we are now. And I like what we have, don’t you?”
I nod. Of course I like what we have.
“And I don’t want you to ever think that we need to rush things. Not for me, not for anything. Okay?”
Dante’s face is so sweet, so serious. So considerate. And I swear to everything holy that I can’t possibly love him anymore than I already do. It’s physically impossible. My heart can’t hold any more love.
And suddenly, it’s like an epiphany and it hits me in a white-hot enlightening rush. Love is all that matters. Everything else is just details. Having sex/making love/physical intimacy is going to be great, I’m sure. Scratch that. It will be freaking awesome. With Dante. But love itself is the important thing. And I so, so, so love him.
“Okay,” I nod. “Did you feel like you were rushing me?”
He considers that as he hugs a pillow to his strong chest. I find myself wishing that I was that pillow.
“Not purposely. But sometimes, things can be construed differently than they are intended,” Dante says carefully. “I don’t want you to ever think that I’m pressuring you. Because I’m not. I won’t. I promise. What we have… it’s so unexpected. And I think it’s amazing. And I’m not going to jeopardize that by trying to rush you.”
My heart will soon explode from love for this boy. I know that much is true.
I shake my head and smile and pick up his hand, grasping it tightly in mine.
“Dante, that is the most beautiful and sweet thing anyone has ever said to me. Boys back home just don’t talk that way. I love it. And I love you.”
HolySweetBabyMonkeys.
I said the words.
I said the words.
I said the words.
I’m such an idiot. He’s going to think that I’m a ManiacCrazyPerson. We’ve only known each other for six weeks. And I said the L word. Out loud. To Dante. Giliberti. I’m. So. Stupid.
“I love you, too.”
Dante’s words are husky and low and sexy in the night and OHMYGOD.
He loves me too.
I can’t breathe.
“Reece?”
Dante is looking at me in concern. Because I’m staring at him like an idiot.
“I’m fine,” I rush to assure him. “I just felt silly for a second. But now I don’t.”
“Good,” he says. “I don’t want you to ever feel silly around me. If I can step in horse manure in front of you, there’s probably nothing you can ever do more embarrassing or silly than that.”
“Is that a challenge?” I ask with a smile as I snuggle into his arms.
He tightens them up around me and suddenly we’ve got a full-on, loving embrace going on. Dante kisses my hair and it’s so perfect. And the idea of ha**ng s*x tonight can’t be further from my mind anymore. It’s been overshadowed by this sweet conversation and the stars and the sea and his smell and the fact that DanteGilibertiLovesMeTOOOOO.