The corner of his mouth crooked up with the joke, but my mouth was as flat as my throat was dry. My heart raced like a lion closing in on her prey, confusion and curiosity battling for the reins.
And against every churn of my stomach and every warning bell whistling in my ears, I slipped my left hand into his and let Liam Benson lead the way.
The Art of Saying Yes
I couldn’t quite put my finger on Liam Benson.
As he dragged me through the streets of Florence, he blabbered on a mile a minute, which was so different from the cool, calm, collected, and mysterious aura he usually gave off. I was so used to him sitting in the classroom all aloof, or hanging out in the back corner of a dark bar looking at unsuspecting female prey.
I was not used to listening to him talk about his favorite gelato spots in town, or seeing him walk with a little bounce in his step, or being close enough to smell his body wash.
And I was definitely not used to him holding my hand.
I expected him to drop it after we got going, but he held my hand for the next few blocks like it was the most natural thing in the world, using the connection to weave us through busier tourist areas and down quiet alleyways until we hit the Ponte Vecchio, an old medieval stone bridge lined with shops.
“Okay,” he said when we hit the cusp, releasing his grip.
I immediately tucked my now-free hand into my jacket pocket to match the other.
“First thing’s first — we need a camera to document the night.”
I shook my head automatically. “I hate pictures. Well, of me, anyway.”
Liam folded his arms and arched a brow. “I’m sorry, I think I misheard you. I said, ‘First thing’s first, we need a camera to document the night.’ To which, on this special occasion, you would respond with…”
He waved his hand in a gesture for me to finish the sentence, leaving his palm spread in front of me like I was going to pull the word out and set it on an invisible golden platter.
I fought the urge to grumble. “Yes.”
“There it is! Heard you loud and clear that time.”
Liam winked, nodding toward a small shop with a myriad of cameras, tripods, backpacks and other gadgets in the windows. He ducked in first and I followed, staying more toward the entryway as he waltzed right up to the young man behind the counter.
“Ciao! Parli inglese?”
The young man shook his head.
“Hmm,” Liam answered, tapping his chin as he looked around the shop. Then, he turned back to the cashier and made a gesture like he was holding a camera to his eye, taking a picture, and then throwing the camera away. “Disposable camera?”
The cashier cocked his head, trying to understand the gesture the second time around, but then he shrugged.
Liam sighed, looking around the shop, when a young woman approached from behind him and smiled, rattling something off to the cashier. I only caught one word, buttar, which made the clerk’s eyes light up with recognition.
He waved us to the back, and then to a small hidden endcap with disposable cameras.
“Perfecto!” Liam exclaimed, holding up his hand for a high five.
The clerk laughed and slapped his hand before leaving us alone, and Liam called up a thank you to the woman at the register, who waved and smiled at me in a knowing way.
I wanted to tell her she knew nothing at all about this situation, and neither did I.
“Okay,” Liam said, turning his attention to the shelf. He scanned his finger along until he found a Kodak Fun Saver. “This oughta do.”
He held it up and tapped it against his palm before leading us to the register, and then he grabbed two mood rings from a display there.
“These, too, please,” he said, and before I could even reach for my wallet in my backpack, he slid a ten-thousand lira note over to the clerk and we were out the door.
Liam opened the camera package as soon as we were outside, tossing the box in the trash and winding the wheel until the first picture was loaded up and ready to snap.
Then, without warning, he aimed that damn thing right at me and clicked before I could register what was happening.
“Hey!”
“Just testing to make sure it works,” Liam said with a grin, then he tucked the camera in his jacket pocket.
“And what about these?” I asked, holding up the two mood rings. “Think they work?”
“Let’s find out,” he said.
He took the larger of the two and slipped it on, reading the small piece of paper that came with it as he waited for the colors to change. I put mine on, too, and waited just the same.
“Apparently, I’m in an active mood,” he said, holding up his finger to illustrate the deep green shade his ring had turned.