“And this is a Rolls-Royce Cullinan.” His brows raise like I’m being silly. I huff at his nonchalant attitude and hoist myself up without his help. When I stand up next to him, he’s already taking a blanket out of the basket and laying it over the top of the car. He pulls himself up and sits crisscrossed on top, waiting for me to join him.
I shake my head and follow, sitting next to him with a burning annoyance in my chest. This is not my idea of a fun activity.
“Why are you so upset?” He nudges my thigh with his knuckles when I stare out at the tall grass around us, swishing in the window under the bright moon.
“I just don’t like nature stuff.” I shrug, and he laughs, wrapping his arm around me and pulling me to his chest. I ineffectively fight it as he lays us down, and my head is resting in the crook of his neck.
“Would you chill?” As usual, he teases me at the wrong time while I struggle to break free.
“When has telling someone to chill ever worked in the history of communication?” I snark back, and he lets me go. “Fine. Jeez.”
Nature makes me anxious. Brings back memories I’d rather forget and often choose to actively run from. So, I attempt to close my eyes and collect my breath enough to steady it when I feel his hand on my back.
“What, Antonio?” His thumb and index find my chin, pull my head to his, and I feel brave enough to open my eyes. He’s studying me, brows low, eyes focused, lips parted slightly.
“You’re anxious.” He says it more like a statement.
“Yes.” I nod reluctantly.
“Talk to me.” He almost whispers this, and I want him to kiss me, so I can forget, so I don’t have to explain why I’m actually terrified. Something in me gives up the fight, and I slump into him, tears welling up in my eyes. He collects my hair with his hands and brushes it out of my face as he lays back down. This time I curl up into him, feeling like a complete idiot for crying like this.
I softly sob into his chest for too long, his hands combing through my hair the entire time, soft and steady.
“I was eighteen.” I take a shaky breath and turn my body to look into his eyes. “My Pa and Grandpa wanted the whole family to go to our safe house in the country because the Luciano clan was closing in. I argued with Pa. Told him I was grown up enough to fight alongside them.” I sniff.
“Well, I lost that fight.” I laugh, remembering how young I truly was. “We went to the safe house— my mother, grandmother, uncles, aunts, cousins, and as many members of our gang as possible. I couldn’t stand waiting in a house with them, so as soon as we got there, I took off and waited in the tall grass all night. Then at dawn, I heard a car pulling down the lot, and I thought, they’ve done it. Pa and Grandpa regained full control. And then I saw the symbol sprayed on my childhood car, heard the gunshots and laughter, and I hid. The car pulled up to where I was, unaware that I was just on the other side of the grass, and out stepped Father, bloodied, crying for my Grandpa, who was already shot dead. I held back my scream. Watched the terror in my father's eyes turn dark when he saw mine peaking through the grass. The Luciano clan leader saw where my father was looking, and, despite my father's pleas, his men grabbed me out of the grass. The screams of my father are seared into my brain as they pulled out their knives and threw me against the car. Pa begged them not to kill me, and I was in shock. A rag doll, eyes bleary, body numb. They stabbed me once in the thigh, and the last thing I remember is seeing them shoot my father in the chest.” Tears are streaming down my face, and I can’t help it. Can’t make them stop.
“They killed my Grandpa, then Father, and they were about to kill me when the rest of our gang showed up, outnumbering them and threatening to take everything back from them if they didn't leave. I don’t know why they didn’t stay and fight, but they knew they had already won. Everything after was just a warning to never mess with them again. Subsequently, I couldn’t stand fields or wide-open nature. Still can’t. It brings everything back.” I grit my teeth and let the tears stream as Antonio hugs me closer to him.
“I’m so sorry, Stella,” He softly says, rubbing circles in my back as I begin to calm down. “We can leave. I didn’t know.”
“No.” I look back into his eyes which are more pained than I’ve ever seen. “This is a good way to get over my fear.” I breathe, though I’m uncertain if I believe my words.
“Well, in that case,” he pulls me up closer to his head. “Look up.” He points to the sky, and I follow his finger. Expanding across the darkness are millions of shooting stars falling and burning in a bright stream of brilliant light. I lose my breath. Settle back into his neck and watch, mesmerized into complete awe.
We watch for I don’t know how long, but it’s not long enough. Since I was little, I’ve wanted to see a shooting star. It was on my bucket list. Now I’m watching millions of them, and I can’t believe my eyes.
“So?” Antonio speaks up when the last one burns out.
“Breathtaking,” I whisper, still searching the sky, hoping to see just one more.
“Did you make a wish?” He asks.
“No. Did you?”
“Yes.”
“What?”
“Can’t tell you.” He smugly says through a smile.
“Why not?” I look up at him, and he tilts his chin, toggling between my eyes, then shrugs.
“If I tell you, it won’t come true.” He laughs, knowing this answer will bother me. I prop myself up on my forearm and look deeply into his eyes. It’s a hunger I've never felt for anyone before. He props himself up so he's an inch away from my face, our breaths combining to form a cloud of unspoken attraction.
“We should probably leave now.” He whispers.
“Probably.” I nod into a kiss that he meets me halfway for, our bodies colliding with such passion that we can barely contain ourselves. He’s fumbling with the zipper on my jumpsuit, and I’m unbuttoning his thick fleece jacket. We gasp for air in between movements because even kissing him is erotic. Chills radiate throughout my body when he kisses down my jaw, then neck, pulling my jumpsuit down to my waist and exposing my bare breasts.