Dirty Lies

AWKWARD PAUSES

Setting my coffee on a table, I stood at the terrace railing and looked out at the view of sand and water.

"You must have had a great view of the plane crash."

Luca leaned on the rail, his back to the Gulf. The corners of his eyes crinkled into a smile.

"You did see the crash from here. And you didn't tell me. You're so bad," I teased, then pointed. "That's where I do yoga."

Glancing at him again, his head was bowed, and he was biting his bottom lip, grinning.

"Have you seen me do yoga?" I asked, astonished.

He nodded. "Confession time. Yes."

Laughing, I stood in front of him and squeezed his forearm. "You have? Why didn't you come join me? Or say hello? Or did you just enjoy watching me bend over?"

Still grinning, he scratched the back of his head, then went to sit on a chaise and rested his coffee next to mine. "It was the Saturday after we saw each other at that store. You were right there, practically in my backyard. And you were really flexible. Sexy. I did enjoy watching you bend over, if you want to know." He paused. "I'm not usually this much of a pervert."

Could he be any more adorable?

I kissed him, laughing. When I turned away, he swatted my ass, and I yelped, giddy. He grabbed my wrist, then pulled me into his lap. Sliding his arms around my waist, he pressed his mouth to mine.

"How did you get so good at yoga?"

"My mom taught it. I practically grew up in her studio, but then I took lots of classes and even taught little kids during summers in high school."

My mom also worked at a health food store until six weeks before her death to make ends meet, but I didn't reveal that. I didn't want Luca to know if it hadn't been for my mom's job at the health food store, we wouldn't have had money to eat. Or that one January when I was twelve, my mom didn't make enough to pay for heating oil and we wore coats inside all winter long.

"Did you learn to meditate and everything?"

"I grew up a New Age hippie kid."

"What does a New Age hippie kid do? Were you on a commune?"

I grinned. "No. But I had friends who were. They had a house rule that they couldn't smoke pot until they were thirteen."

Luca shook his head, chuckling.

I rolled my eyes. "My mom was into a lot of fake spirituality. Lots of talking about peace and love and respecting the inherent worth and dignity of all human beings."

"It sounds kind of nice, actually."

I shrugged, not wanting to get into how all that inner peace didn't help my mom die in a calm way. Something about telling Luca the story of my mom made her sad. Chemotherapy and radiation had made for lots of suffering, enlightenment be damned.

"Yeah, it was good, mostly. I learned to meditate when I was a toddler, that's what my mom said. I don't do it as much as I should now, though."

"That must be why you seem so calm on the outside. Strong."

I tilted my head. Was this his way of saying I was cold and passionless? I wriggled out of his arms. "And on the inside, what? Emotionless? Vacant? Stupid?"

"God, no. Not even close. What?" he asked, looking surprised. "I was paying you a compliment. You seem really mature for twenty-two. Balanced. I love how calm you are. I grew up around Italians. We're excited and crazy all the time. Loud."

I shrugged and ran a few fingers through his short hair. "My...um, calmness, whatever you want to call it, is a sore point. My ex-boyfriend used to tell me I was cold and frigid. Oh. Sorry. We're not supposed to talk about our pasts."

"No. Actually, I want to hear about this stronzo. That means asshole. Stronzo. I want to know exactly what he did to you so I can figure out how to undo the damage. Who was he?"

I let out a snort and slipped off Luca's lap, settling next to him on the chaise. "James was an editor at the newspaper where I interned. We started dating after my internship was over. He was a lot older than me, but I liked him. He was interesting. Told good stories. He was a former war correspondent. At first, we got along really well."

"And what happened?" I noticed Luca looked at the sky as I spoke.

"It's difficult to say. He just became gradually more...I don't know, demeaning. Abusive. He got laid off from the paper. He'd tell me I was boring in bed. He told me I was getting fat. It was like a slow erosion of my confidence. Then he got a little physical with me. Once, when he didn't like something I was doing...um, sexually, he pushed me off the bed. Like, pushed me. Hard."

Luca said something in Italian. "Sorry. I use the nastiest words in my native language. Skylar, why did you stay?"

"I don't know. I thought that he would become nicer, that he was just under pressure. It sounds so stupid and lame now. And I guess my self-esteem took a hit and I was too ashamed to say anything to anyone."

"But you broke up with him?"

"Yeah. I worked up the courage after he invited another woman to his house to fuck me. On my graduation night."

Laughter exploded from Luca's mouth, and my heart sank. He must have seen the troubled look on my face, though, because he sobered and reached for my hand. "Skylar. I'm not laughing at you. I'm just shocked. I can't believe anyone would do that to you. It's so absurd and rude."

I shrugged. "I dunno. I think all men want threesomes. He was just upfront about it. And an asshole."

Luca groaned. "No. All men don't."

"Please. I'm sure you've had threesomes. You probably have women throwing themselves at you."

"Skylar, I can't deny I've had a past. But I'd never share you with anyone, man or woman. It would make me crazy to see anyone else touch you."

The sound of the soft waves of the Gulf filled the silence.

"And yet, you don't want a relationship, so what does it matter?"

Luca licked his lips, and I wondered if I'd been too caustic, self-sabotaging this fledgling relationship before it had a chance to hatch. Suddenly, I didn't feel like hanging out with him—was embarrassed about spending so much time wrapped up in him when he probably would never reciprocate my feelings.

"I think I'm gonna go. I have lots to do today. I had a really good time with you."

God, this was awkward.

His green-gray eyes clouded and flickered downward for a brief second. Was he disappointed? No, he was probably glad to get rid of me.

"Okay. I'll call you, or text. But you can too. You know that, right?"

I smiled, but a sad feeling settled in my chest. "Yeah. I do." 

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