Tread

June 30

Leo and I find a rhythm, smoother and more relaxed than before. There's no sex, and that constant needy edge is filled with something deeper. It's nearly tangible between us, but I can't acknowledge it yet.

I always thought love was a four letter word said in the heat of the moment. Like a current that ebbs and flows. That's a paltry rendition of an emotion that isn't just a constant, but a living, breathing entity. There's something wholly terrifying about being in love.

Florence doesn't make it any easier. It's all soft sunsets, candlelit dinners, and quiet evenings on the hostel's terrace wrapped in each other's arms. We talk about the stupidest, most random stuff and I release the filter I always need alcohol to dissolve. Leo is a drug himself, heady and far too addictive.

It's maddening.

"What are you thinking about?" Leo presses the words into the nape of my neck.

I roll over in his arms, the sheets pulling at my waist, and run my hand over his face. He's let his stubble turn into a beard and it tangles with the mess of his hair. Sliding my leg over his hip, I get as close to him as I can. Three days left.

Where did the time go? It doesn't even feel like we've been together for two weeks let alone over a month. I crave him, find it hard to sleep without him. When he crawls out of bed for his 2AM pee (nearly always on the dot), I wake up. Lie, eyes wide open, waiting for him to crawl back between the sheets and curl his body around mine while I twine my legs around his.

Leo nips the pad of my finger, refocusing my gaze. I'm staring at his curved lips, the Cupid's bow of his mouth. Want to memorize everything about him and fixate on it. It'll take me years to get over him. To forget the feel of his fingers on my waist, his palm branding the small of my back, the little nips and bites on my fingers and neck, the eyes that see far too much, and the mouth that says exactly what I need to hear. He's not perfect, but he's real and solid.

Moving my hand around his neck to grip his hair in a tight fist, I tug him closer until I feel his lips move against mine. "I lo—"

The shrill sound of my phone cuts through the moment like a knife and I freeze. What the hell were the words coming out of my mouth?

Untwining myself from Leo, I draw in a deep breath and answer my phone. "What?"

"Oh my God, Rai," Kate whines and slurs through the receiver. "You sound exactly like Zora. Ugh. She's such an ugly thot."

I swing my legs over the bed and sit up. "Are you drunk?"

"No, no, no, no," she assures before giggling. "Yes. Sorry. Yes, I'm drunk. Like so drunk. Can you come pick me up?"

"Kate, you know I'm still backpacking right?"

"What? You're still doing that?" I hear something fall and break before Kate is chanting, "Shit, shit, shit."

"Kate," I say sharpley, the situation going from mildly irritating to dangerously worrisome. "How many drinks have you had?"

"Richard," she yells to someone, "How many drinks have I had?"

In an instant there is another voice on the phone, male and annoyed. "Hello?"

"Yes?"

"You need to come pick your friend up. She's fucking wasted."

"I can't. I'm in Italy."

"What do you mean?"

I wonder if this dude is drunk too. "Italy. The country. I'm backpacking."

"Shit." I can feel his frustration through the phone. "Can you call someone?"

"What time is it there?"