“But we’ve already–”
“I know. And maybe we shouldn’t have… I don't know. I just want you to feel good and have a good experience. It should be special. You’ve waited this long, and if I’m the person you want to give yourself to, then I should respect you and… I sound dumb... I–”
“Okay.” I nod, surprising myself with my quick answer. I could negotiate and know I'd get away with more if I did, but something about the pure sweetness of his notion has convinced me. It’s something I'm not used to. Even with the men I’ve kissed, they always wanted more. And maybe that's why I never gave it to them. But Tito is different, and I like that. Like that he cares for me when no one in my life ever really has. He softly kisses my lips once more, and I run my hand down his abs as he does. He presses closer for a second more, and I feel his hardening cock just before he pulls away.Damn, I really should have negotiated.
His smile makes butterflies burst in my stomach, and I take his hand when he offers it to me. He leads us back inside, and we make our way to the front of the building in the designated walking space provided. The rest of the building is barricaded off. However, we still glance over at the remnants of a perfect memory preserved in the area of the convention center. I blink to take a mental picture so I don’t forget this feeling. Just before we reach the door, he squeezes my hand, and I look up at him.
“What are you doing?”
“I took a picture.”
“I don’t see a camera.”
“In my mind.” I point, and he raises his brows.
“Okay, crazy. Time for bed.” He pats me on the head, and I lightly punch his ribs that are probably already sore from the morning when he was being a crazy person and screaming at people. He winces a bit, but he’s got enough muscle to move a firetruck, so I’m not too concerned I've done any real damage. He helps me into the car, and I mindlessly let him, don’t even fight him this time on it. I actually kind of expect it. Is that bad?
He gets into his side, and the car takes off into the dark summer night. Van is quiet, but there’s nothing new there. Tito keeps glancing over at me; also nothing new there. And I reach for his hand in the dark, just so I can feel that electric buzz radiate throughout my body when we touch.
I didn’t think this date would go well. Not that I don’t thoroughly enjoy Tito’s company or seriously find myself drooling over his looks. It’s just that I have this weird feeling in the pit of my stomach after the day I spent yesterday debugging and kicking something unwanted out of our servers. How long was it there? Why would someone be so hell-bent on getting into a business not yet formed?
I get it, mafia-need-to-know. That doesn't mean I can’t get curious. Tito said I could, anyways, be curious. It’s good to wonder, you know. Great for deductive reasoning and not getting stuck in a situation you can’t get out of. I think it’s partly preemptive and mostly because I think I've been waiting for the other shoe to drop. So, he’s in the mafia… where does that leave us when this is over? When do our real lives become more dominant than the work we’ve poured ourselves into?
To be frank, the mafia is something I still don’t get. I only have movies to thank for my very low-level intelligence on their modern reality. Plus, I’ve already promised not to ask so many questions about it. I haven’t really needed to or thought to, not until today at least. If the breach in security had anything to do with his involvement in the affiliation, then perhaps what we’re doing is actually far more dangerous than I anticipated. A sick feeling pangs through me when I think about this and how it could affect the safety of my family already in ruins. The thought of my careless mistakes, say signing a contract with a mafia family, endangering them, is too much for me to bear.
We’re in the car, changing back into our normal clothes, exchanging glances every time we take an item off that reveals a bit of skin.Good lord, this man has muscles for days. I really need to know what he does at the gym or how he even has time to do it. I make a mental note as I shove the last button through its hole on my blouse. If it weren’t for Van in the front seat, our clothes might not have made it back on our bodies so quickly, but alas.
Tito reaches for my hand in the dark, and I take it willingly, believing everything will be okay, even though I don’t know how it can be with so much to discuss. Being attracted to one another and getting the courage to not only say it but act upon it, is one thing. But talking about the difficult realities of our very different worlds is probably something we should do. I'm not very knowledgeable about these types of things. Still, I know secrets destroy relationships, and I can’t have our lives being so separate that I don’t even know what he’s really doing when he’s not working.
Does he kill people? Is he a part of bombing other families? Who’s their godfather?My mind is going through a thousand scenarios, mostly related to late-night tv shows and movies I snuck into as a high schooler. None of the thoughts comfort me. In fact, they make me sick. And maybe it's the strange drink we chugged or a combination of the alcohol and endorphins from touching Tito… but I think I'm on the verge of a breakdown. Distress builds up in the form of tears, and now I'm thinking I'm a bad person for even second-guessing being close to someone as kind as Tito.
Shit, I'm second-guessing this?
He’s perfect, right?But what if he isn't? this is what my brain asks me like I'm on trial and the cross defense is hammering me.Could he be a killer? Could I be falling for a dangerous man who will leave me like everyone else has the moment he gets what he wants– or doesn’t?The scariest thought of them all is that I like him too much, and this job is too good for me to back out now. The leverage my emotions have on me feels like a betrayal of common sense. But how could that be when I’m finally feeling happy outside of tech, for the first time in my life?
“Here you are.” Van comes to a stop right beside my car, and Tito gets out so fast that I don’t even blink before he opens my door for me.
“You’re really on it with the door thing.” I pat his abs through his shirt jokingly, but I just wanted an excuse to touch him, so I took the opportunity I had in front of me.
“Sorry, taking care of women is just how I was raised.” There are a couple ways I could respond to this, but because I was just pulled out of a spiral that I'm kind of still in, I go for the most obvious glaring in my face. It’s risky, but I take the risk knowing it might end very badly. Before I can think too much more on the matter, I blurt out my question. “How do they raise boys in the mafia?” His face drops at my words, and I know I’ve pushed the conversation to a very different ballpark, but I don’t care. I need to know what I’m actually getting myself into. I have a family to look after, one that's already rather fucked up. Colliding two worlds is another reason I’ve strayed away from having relationships. It's probably why the look he’s giving me is a look I’ve gotten before. It stings a little, to see his eyes perplexed, mouth parted with hesitant words dancing on his tongue.
“Scout, I don’t think—”
“It’s fine.” I cut him off nervously. “Yeah, it’s just—”
“It’s not that I don’t want to tell you—”
“No, of course.”
“It’s probably better… safer for you to not know much.” He clears his throat, and I try to hide the disappointment and concern growing behind the curtains of my external reaction. I can tell I’m doing poorly. He reaches for me, and I take a step back because I do this far too much, the fuck-it-up-when-it’s-going-good thing. A look of betrayal crosses his face, one that knows he can’t give me what I want and that it’s hurting me. Why should I let it hurt me? Oh, right… because I really like him.
“It’s okay.” I nod, trying to convince him I’m fine. He shakes his head.
“I want to tell you everything.”
“You don’t have to—”
“I do. I should.” He takes a deep breath and exhales quietly while I wait. “I’ll tell you everything. I promise, but not until after Italy. When we’re in the clear, no matter the outcome of this project.” I consider his promise for a moment as we stand in the dark by my car. The breeze fills the silence between us until I look back at his unwavering gaze towards me.