the Devil and the Sea

62| Is it really necessary?

The taxi driver asks where exactly to go, and I give him the exact address.

The car stops at the right house.

Is it really necessary?

I get out of the car and go to the entrance. It's only ten o'clock now and Ricky is probably not sleeping, I dial the apartment number on the intercom. After a couple of seconds I hear a familiar voice.

"Yes?" Ricky's soft voice reinforces my confidence.

"It's me." I say.

Without further ado, the door immediately opens, as if he was waiting for me, and I feel a certain relief.

I go up to the fourth floor, deliberately delaying; step by step. It makes me sick to think that Vincent is now lounging in bed and talking to his girlfriend. Maybe they're having phone sex. Bad picture.I hate it.

Wait, it's about Vincent, not me.

With doubts why I came, I go up to the fourth floor to Ricky, because I don't want to spend the night alone, thinking that this bespectacled idiot from London doesn't want me.

Ricky opens the door as soon as I'm at the threshold of the apartment. I straighten my shoulders and, without ceremony, I go inside, trying not to notice the bruise on Ricky's face that Vincent left. I can smell our... his house. It's so strange to be here, although I haven't been here for only two months, but it feels like I haven't been here for at least a year. So much has changed since then. I've changed.

Ricky's dog gets tangled up in my legs. I smile at the dog, but no more.

Ricky takes the windbreaker off the hanger and grabs the keys.

"Where are you going?" I'm frustrated watching him put on his shoes.

"With you, on a date," Ricky straightens up and smiles at me.

What? Ricky wants to go on a date with me?

"I do not think that..."

"I'm not seeking your approval, I'm stating a fact."

Wow, Ricky and I never went on a date.

I'm not worried, nothing, I just don't want to give hope, or have any obligation towards Ricky. It's a strange feeling, we haven't gone on dates before, in the sense of normal dates, as they are considered to be. Ricky didn't suggest anything like that, or even suggested, I don't remember, at least it didn't feel that way.

Ricky holds out his hand, I take it out of habit, he pulls me to him and hugs me.

"I missed you," I can hear him smelling my hair.

"Where we are going?" I ask, pulling away and bending down to put on my shoes.

"You like sushi, let's go and have dinner."

My stomach growls: I haven't eaten anything today. Ricky laughs, I shove him embarrassedly with both hands, and he slams his back into the door.

"Since when are you embarrassed by me?" he asks laughing.

"I'm not embarrassed, I just don't approve of being mocked at myself." I go around him and find myself on the landing.

Ricky gives me a playful look, and lightly kicks the pug with his foot so that he does not follow; closes the door with a key.

There is a sushi bar on St. Sebastian beach. It is on the waterfront, so you can have lunch and watch people pass by. This is one of my favorite places and Ricky knows it well. When we walk up he orders sushi, but Moriawase, one of those big dishes with a variety of sushi rolls. I love sushi: I love the taste of every roll: salmon, tuna, eel... my favorite is spicy tuna with caramelized onions.