Milan.

quattro

"Where are we going now?" I asked, following closely behind Louis as we exited the restaurant.

Louis shrugged easily,  hopping into his car as though there was still nothing wrong in the whole wide world. Either he lived in bubble of imagined peace, or he was absolutely crazy and filled with false security. Possibly a mixture of the two. "I thought I'd return these books. Unless you want to go home first."

"No, the library is good," I said, nodding softly as I buckled my seat belt. And safe, I added, just for myself.

"You sure? We could just park somewhere and get off together," Louis said. He meant it playfully, I guess, but I still found my muscles tensing up. Mostly because I wouldn't have exactly minded getting off with Louis, and I probably should've. Right? That would be a bad idea, knowing that he's not exactly Citizen of the Year in... well, probably in any country. 

He leaned forward to turn on some music, and I tried to bite back my questions, but ten seconds into Your Touch by The Black Keys, I couldn't hold it in. "Who are you, exactly, to decide where theses historically-oriented items belong? Do you have some sort of qualification to choosing who gets to keep them?" I didn't mean for it to sound snippy, but there was really no other way for it to sound.

"Ouch," he joked, chuckling slightly, "well, I have a degree, but that's probably not what you mean, huh? I don't choose-- not really; my boss chooses. I just do the hard part."

"Do you have guns and stuff?" I asked carefully. I thought I would've noticed on on his person when were sleeping in the same bed, but who knows how easy it would be to hide a small one? I sure don't. 

"I don't like guns," Louis said. "Honestly, I don't like conflict in general. I like to avoid situations in which a gun would be helpful."

I nodded a bit, even though that wasn't a real answer. "So, we go to the library, and then what?"

"Well, you can do whatever you like. I have to see a man about a necklace later," he said. "You could stay in the car if you wanted, listen to music. Or, as you can at any moment you'd like, you could go home."

"Okay," I agreed. "We'll see if I still think you're fit enough to stick around later," I said, using up the last bit of banter that I'd been storing away.

"Deal," he grinned, turning up the music a bit.

Needless to say, the library wasn't what I'd expected. Louis parked the car and stared up the building, eyes shooting over architectural detail like he was determining the best way to burn it to the ground. It was an old, gothic-styled building, obviously abandoned. I turned towards him in my seat, ready to accuse him straight up of lying to me.

"This isn't a functioning library," I stated, keeping my tone even. He glanced at me once, then twice, guilt flooding his expression.

He chuckled nervously. "Stay here, yeah?"

I shrugged, making myself comfortable as he extracted the keys and unbuckled his seat belt, gathering up whatever materials he apparently needed. He paused, eyes locked on the rear view mirror. I turned around in my seat just in time to watch a black SUV pull into the parking lot.

Without another word, Louis got out of the car and locked it after himself, patting the door gently in a silent farewell. I shut my eyes, reminding myself that Louis had promised I wouldn't be in any danger. He was so serious about it-- intense, even-- that it made it hard not to trust him. Without the radio, or the noise from the road, all I could hear was a pair of high heels clicking against the pavement, muffled voices, and the purr of the other car's engine.

As I waited, I waited for him to return, I wondered why Louis would lie to me about returning books to the library-- that is, until I realized that he'd taken a few of the older-looking books with him, leaving only a couple behind. So, I concluded, this was just a thing that he did. Twisting his words around so they didn't sound as bad-- not telling the whole truth, but not exactly lying. 

Yet, despite the lying, there was this odd sense of sincerity about him, the kind of thing I knew proper criminals not to have. A firm belief that was he was doing was for the overall greater good. Maybe that meant he was on the right side, or maybe it made him insane. Who was I to judge, when I was the one still sitting in his car?

Louis listed more of his errands for the day; shopping for groceries, which actually meant meeting up with a sketchy-looking woman behind a grocery store; filling up his car, which actually meant stuffing 10 boxes of who-knows-what in the back seat; and having another one night stand with me, which actually meant me letting him spoon with me in his hotel room while I bit back the thousands of questions I'd come up with throughout the day.

"I'm leaving tomorrow," he muttered into the back of my neck. I hummed a bit, to notify him that I'd heard, and he went on, "I mean, leaving Milan. I've got some deliveries to make."

"Right," I agreed, my voice soft and raspy. "I had a nice time."

"Did you? Because, you looked pretty miserable all day. I'm surprised you stuck around," he mumbled, voice uncharacteristically shy... not that I was an expert on his personality in the single day we've known each other.

I contemplated this for a moment. I honestly had been pretty much miserable, tagging along while he did blatantly illegal things and didn't even seem to care that I could turn him in at any second, with all the information I now have about him. In fact, there was nothing stopping me from going back to my own hotel and calling the police. But, regardless, I had a good day.

There was something so great about seeing Milan for what it was-- not just the shiny layer on the top that the tourists see, but the dingy, abandoned buildings and the dirt roads that bump so much that your voice shakes when you speak. It was an adventure, put most simply, and I've never been on an adventure before. It was a constant anxiety, mixed with adrenaline, sometimes arousal, being around Louis. 

Watching him pick a lock, helping him carry boxes of undoubtedly illegal shit? It exhilarating, fascinating, brand-new. Like the first time I got drunk, and I'd stayed up long enough to feel the buzz shift into the hangover-- this was the middle point, where your brain is screaming yes and no, and you decide to have another drink to kill the opposition. 

"I did," I decided, finally, speaking into the thick silence I'd created in my pondering. "I had a nice day today."

"You can have another nice day tomorrow, with or without me," Louis said firmly. He pressed a kiss to the back of my neck and reached over my shoulder to flick off the light. "Wake me up if you want to have sex."