When In Rome...Lose Control: Cynthia's Story Page 2

  Instead of a nap, she took a much-needed shower, which was just about as good. But she kept thinking that she’d have to remember to tell her mom about the shower. Not only was there no bathtub, there wasn’t even a shower stall. The tiny bathroom had a drain set into the tile floor, and one side sectioned off by a curtain, behind which she found a showerhead hanging from the wall. Later, she’d ask her host parents for the wi-fi, but she didn’t want to ask for something the second she got there. Still, she wanted to Skype with her mom.

  When she emerged from the shower, clean and damp, she saw that someone had emailed, since her phone’s internet was turned on. Her friends sometimes teased her that she was the only person they knew who was more protective of her mom than her mom was of her. And even though it hadn’t even been a full day, a flicker of worry tugged at her when she saw that it wasn’t her mom.

  It was Nick. “Hi, Neighbor. Turns out my house is only about five blocks from yours, so I walked. Want to grab a cab to the welcome dinner?”

  She closed her door, shed her towel, and sat on the edge of her bed to finish air-drying. “Aren’t you sick of me by now? We’ve only been sharing cabin space for the past twenty-four hours.”

  He wrote back right away, and she bit back a smile reading it. “What can I say, I’m needy. See you later. If your host family turns out to be creepers, you can stay with me. Mine are cool.”

  “You’re just trying to get me in your bed,” she wrote back.

  “Pretty much.”

  “As long as you save me all your best moves.”

  “Moves? What moves? I don’t have moves.”

  “We all have moves.”

  “Maybe I have moves. But you’ll never know.”

  “Don’t make me beg. When do I get to see these moves?”

  “Come on over.”

  “What happens in Rome, stays in Rome, right?” she wrote back, along with a winky emoji. Laughing, she tossed her phone on the bed and stood to dress. Before she did, though, she stepped to the window and pulled it open a few inches to let the room air out. She knew no one could see her from the street below, but the thought sent a little thrill through her as the breeze played with the filmy white curtain. Leaning closer, she peered through at the street below, where a couple men were walking by. They were speaking Italian and laughing, but still, she let herself imagine one of them was Nick, and that he could just make out her outline through the curtain.

  And even though she didn’t like Nick that way, she was pretty sure he wouldn’t mind seeing her standing there in the nude. And she didn’t mind that he’d like to. Before dressing, she stood at the window, hidden from the outside world by the translucent fabric curtain, and brushed her long, silky hair.

  *

  Before going to the welcome dinner with her class, Cynthia talked to her host family a while. They seemed nice but not as interesting as she’d have liked. They were a married couple, both worked full time, and they didn’t seem to want to do much more than watch TV after work. She set up her internet and Skyped with her mother. “See everything you can,” her mother told her through the computer monitor. “This is your chance to see the world, to do it all.”

  “I think you’re as excited as me,” Cynthia said. “If that’s possible.” She told her mom about the shower, the drivers, and her host family.

  “Don’t replace me,” her mother said.

  “Awww, don’t worry, Mom,” Cynthia said. “They’re nowhere near as cool as you.”

  She always took her friends’ teasing in stride, but in a way, it was true. She shared a special bond with her mother, the kind maybe only a single mother and daughter could share. Of course they’d had their share of conflict, but she’d never been afraid to admit that her mom was her best friend, even in that stage when most teenage girls were embarrassed to be seen with their mothers.

  After the welcome dinner, which Cynthia was pretty sure was engineered just to make sure they didn’t go to bed too early and get jet-lagged, Cynthia went to bed. They’d gone over their schedule of outings and options for extra tours at the dinner. Of course, they had plenty they could do on their own, as well, and she planned to take advantage of every moment. Kristina had met an Italian guy at the airport, and even though she said he was all talk, Cynthia urged her to meet up with him so he could show them some local hangouts, too. She planned to squeeze as much as humanly possible into every moment of the next six weeks. Maybe Kristina’s guy had a hot friend, and she’d have a sizzling summer fling of her own.

  *

  Kristina’s new Italian guy invited them out that Friday. Maggie was always overprotective of Kristina, so she insisted they all go out as a group, which Cynthia didn’t mind at all. She was excited to get a taste of the nightlife.

  “Are you coming out with us?” she asked Nick as they left class that afternoon.

  “Where we going?”

  “Oh, sorry,” she said. “I thought you heard us talking.”

  “So you’re uninviting me to your mysterious event?”

  “No,” she said, laughing and pushing him with her shoulder. “We’re going out tonight.”

  “So you’re asking me out?”

  “You wish.”

  “I’m in,” he said, then nodded to where the redhead was standing squinting at her phone like it was speaking Italian to her. “What about her?”

  “I’m asking her out?”

  “She’s always by herself,” Nick said. “Let’s see if she wants to go.”

  “I think somebody has a crush,” Cynthia teased.

  Nick just smiled.

  “Hey, it’s Rory, right?” Cynthia asked, stepping over to the girl.

  “Huh? Oh, yeah,” she said, shoving her phone in her pocket. “What’s up?”

  “Me and my friends are going to go to a club tonight,” Cynthia said. “We were wondering if you’d wanna come.”

  Rory peered off down the street instead of looking at Cynthia. “Ummm…I don’t know. I guess probably not. But thanks.”

  “Are you sure?” Cynthia asked, nodding to where Nick hung back a little. “He wanted me to ask.”

  “Isn’t that your boyfriend?”

  “No, we’re just friends. So….what do you say?”

  “Maybe next time,” Rory said. “I promised my mom I’d call, and it’s hard to get the times worked out.”

  “Tell me about it,” Cynthia said. “I miss my mom a lot, too.”

  “It’s not really like that,” Rory said, shifting and crossing her arms. She looked so uncomfortable that Cynthia took a step back.

  “Okay, well, let me know if you want to go next time,” she said.

  “I will,” Rory said. “Thanks. And have fun.”

  As Cynthia and Nick walked away, she took his arm and muttered, “That was awkward.”

  He laughed and patted her hand. “You did good.”

  “Next time, you can ask.”

  “Deal. I thought maybe it would make her uncomfortable if a guy asked.”

  “Liar,” she said, laughing and pulling her hand away. “You just didn’t want to deal with the weird, awkward girl. You’re such a lame sauce.”

  “You can’t be a lame sauce,” he said. “It’s an adjective, not a noun.”

  “Shut up and walk me home, nerd,” she said. “I’ve got to get dressed and meet Kristina. And I have to look hotttt.”

  “You always look hot.”

  “Stop flirting. It doesn’t work in America, and it won’t work here.”

  “Sorry, I can’t help myself. When it comes to you, babe, I can’t keep the cheesy lines to myself.”

  They walked past a low wall where a row of cats sat sunning themselves. “I love Rome,” she said. “Can we move here and live happily ever after?”

  “Sure,” he said. “I’ll look up some old relatives and see if anyone wants to leave their house to a distant cousin they’ve never met.”

  “Sweet,” she said. “Let me know when you’ve inherited a man
sion, and I’ll move in. With my mom.”

  “Okay,” he said. “Just don’t be mad if she loves me more than you.”

  “Ha,” she said, stopping in front of her house. “Not possible.”

  They said their goodbyes, and Nick left. After everyone was ready, they rode to the club in a cab. “If you marry this guy, and he’s rich, I’m moving in,” Cynthia told Kristina.

  “We’re not getting married,” Kristina said, laughing. “I don’t even know his last name.”

  “You should find that out,” Maggie said. “In case.”

  “In case what?” Kristina asked. “He’s a murderer?”

  “No, in case you marry him,” Cynthia said. “It has to sound good with Kristina.”

  As they piled out of the cab, Kristina waved to her new guy, Armani. He’d brought a friend for each of them, apparently thinking Nick was gay. Which had, in fact, crossed Cynthia’s mind. She’d spent their first year of friendship thinking he was just too respectful and nice to be straight, and she still had her doubts from time to time. Like when they got inside the club, and he joined them on the dance floor with as much enthusiasm as they had.

  After a few minutes, Kristina split off to dance with Armani. His friends weren’t very cute, so Maggie and Cynthia danced with Nick and teased him a little. “I’m going to get some water,” Maggie yelled over the music after a while. “Be my bodyguard, Nick.” She grabbed his arm and pulled him away, probably thinking she’d be kidnapped by the Mafia and sold into sexual slavery if she didn’t have a man to protect her. Maggie was always worried about something, and after seeing a documentary about human trafficking, she had adopted that as her main concern for the trip.

  While Cynthia watched them work their way to the bar, a guy danced closer and closer to her. Before she could turn to him, he grabbed her hips from behind and pulled them firmly against his own. Well, guys here didn’t waste any time, she had to give them that. She turned to look over her shoulder at him, prepared to push him away if he was sleazy. But it was one of Armani’s friends, so she smiled before turning to face forwards again, tossing her hair in his face as she did so.

  When she had turned, she spotted another one of Armani’s friends moving in from the front. Usually guys wouldn’t dance up on a girl who was already dancing with a guy, either because they thought she belonged to her dancing partner or because they thought it was somehow gay to dance with another guy, even with a girl pinned between them. But things like that were different in Italy, or just with this guy, because he came right up and put a hand on her hip and smiled. She smiled back as the guy behind her ran his hands up her arms, pulling them over her head so she could wrap them around his neck as he danced behind her.

  The guy in front of her stepped in even closer, grinding his hips against hers. She swiveled her hips against his while the guy behind her kept pushing with his own hips. This gave a whole new meaning to the term ‘bump and grind.’ She’d never been sandwiched between two guys before. It made her feel like the sexiest, most desirable girl in the club. Guys were always talking about having threesomes, but this was not the kind they talked about. She wasn’t exactly sure how it would work, but it seemed like an exciting prospect. And if it was awkward, she’d never have to worry about running into them around campus…

  Like Nick had said, what happened in Rome could stay in Rome.

  Alas, when the girls were ready to go, the guys did not ask her to continue the night with them. In fact, neither of them even asked for her number. She lost track of them when she went to find Maggie and Nick, and by the time everyone met up outside the club, she was tired anyway, so she was happy to pile into the cab with her friends. The fantasy of a threesome was titillating, sure, but she was pretty sure she’d be freaked out by the reality, if it presented itself.

  “You are both disgustingly sweaty,” Maggie said as the cab sped through the old streets, between rows of buildings that were attached to each other, all the way to the corner of each block.

  “Yeah, my shirt is soaked,” Cynthia said, flopping back against the seat and watching the lights rush by. “And the gross part is, most of it’s probably not even mine.”

  “Excuse me a sec, I’m going to puke now,” Maggie said.

  Cynthia smiled and closed her eyes, letting her head loll over onto Nick’s shoulder as the cab bounced along. She was so tired, and it was so late. She still hadn’t quite adjusted to the time difference. What seemed like ten seconds later, Nick was nudging her awake.

  “Hey, we’re back at your place,” he said. “Want me to walk you in?”

  “I’m fine,” she said, stumbling out of the cab. She was sure she’d been half awake the whole way, but somehow, she’d missed the ride. Her legs were so heavy she wasn’t sure she’d make it through the front door, but she did. And even though Maggie was right about her sweatiness, she didn’t bother with a shower before flopping face down across her bed and falling asleep with her clothes and shoes still on.

  Chapter Three

  Nick’s voice awakened Cynthia the next morning. “Wake up, sleepyhead…”

  “Go away,” she mumbled.

  He tapped on her door. When she didn’t answer, the knob turned and the door opened a crack. Nick’s hand appeared and waved back and forth, the fingers spread wide.

  “Hello?” he said. “Are you decent?”

  “You’ll have to come find out,” she said.

  He pushed the door open further and his grinning face appeared. “Was that an invitation?”

  “You’re already here,” she said, rolling over and patting the empty side of the bed.

  Nick sat sideways in the space and pulled one knee up onto the bed. “Want to get breakfast? There’s a place just about halfway between my place and yours.”

  “Then how come you walked all the way here? You could have waited there for me.”

  He shrugged. “I emailed, but I figured you were still asleep. And this way, I got to end up in bed with you.”

  She tossed her pillow at him, and he caught it, laughing. “You’re not in the bed, you’re on the bed,” she said. “There’s a big difference.”

  “It’s a step in the right direction,” he said, standing and placing the pillow back on the bed. “Want me to wait in the kitchen while you get ready? Unless you’re going to let me watch.”

  “Yeah, baby,” she said. “I know you want to watch me pee, scrub off yesterday’s makeup, and dig the mascara goop out of my eyes. It’s so sexy.”

  He leaned down and kissed her forehead. “Your bedhead’s pretty sexy.”

  “Shut up,” she said, throwing the pillow at him again.

  Laughing, he tossed it onto her bed and slipped out the door. She tidied up in the bathroom, threw on a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, slipped into her sandals, and met him in the kitchen.

  On the way out, she pulled the front door closed behind them and turned to lock it. “How’d you get in here, anyway?”

  “Your host mom was on her way out,” he said. “Nice lady.”

  “And she just let you come in? What if you’d been some kind of creeper?”

  “You sound like Maggie.” As they turned onto the street, a cat disappeared around the corner.

  “No, Maggie would have worried about sex traffickers, not creepers.”

  “If it makes you feel any better, I told your host mom I was just a friend of yours.”

  “You are a friend of mine.”

  “I know,” he said. “But I figured if I said I was your boyfriend, she might not leave me alone with you.”

  Cynthia swatted his arm. “You’re terrible.”

  “I know.”

  “Just so you know, that would not work at home. My mom would never leave you alone with me when I was sleeping. Not without waking me up to make sure it was cool.”

  “Then it’s a good thing I took advantage of your lenient host mom.”

  “That sounded so wrong.”

  They were both laughing as they app
roached the tiny, street side café.

  “This is so cute,” Cynthia said. “It reminds me of Breakfast at Tiffany’s. Except instead of being all glam and American, it’s all quaint and Italian.”

  Nick held the door open and gestured for her to go first. “So not really the same at all?”

  “No, not really,” she agreed. They sat at a tiny round table next to the windows that looked out onto the street. A woman wearing a short yellow dress and high heels rode by on a bicycle, sending a cat slinking between buildings.

  “I need coffee today,” Cynthia said just as the waiter arrived.

  After they ordered, Nick said, “I guess you had fun last night?”

  “Maybe a little too much,” she said. “I think I took one shot too many.”

  “A hot girl once told me there’s no such thing as too much fun.”

  “I reserve the right to amend any and all statements.”

  “As you should.”

  Their cappuccinos arrived, and they sipped in silence for a minute.

  “What about you?” Cynthia asked. “Did you have fun?”

  “It was alright,” Nick said, spooning sugar into his mug.

  “You drink your coffee like a girl,” Cynthia said.

  “Sexist.”

  The café had Wi-Fi, and just then, her phone connected and a dozen emails chimed on her phone. She opened the first one from Kristina. “I need to talk to you first thing,” it said. “Email me back ASAP. It’s an emergency.”

  She had three more that said basically the same thing. She emailed back and got a response right away.

  “Want to meet us for lunch?” she asked Nick. “I guess Kristina’s having a crisis.”

  “Are you sure she’d be okay with me showing up?” Nick asked. “Maybe it’s a girls-only kind of crisis.”

  “If she didn’t want me to bring you, she would have said so,” Cynthia said. “She knows I invite you everywhere unless otherwise specified. You’re pretty much an honorary girl by now.”