Page 18 of Her Dirty Secret

Not even another night of amazing sex completely wipes away my fears. Because the better this gets, the more I keep expecting it to all come crashing down.

* * *

The next day, Friday, Bianca decides we’re going to have a bonfire that evening. It’s a slapped-together affair of convenience store food, which is still leaps and bounds better than the American kind, straight-up bottles of booze, and a few stray games and instruments they’re able to find. So that night we do indeed find ourselves by a moderately large fire, though the night is still quite warm. It means, at least, I didn’t have to change out of my bikini, shorts, and tank that have become my vacation uniform.

Seated on a blanket just outside of the main ring around the fire, I stretch my legs out and am considering how tan they’ve gotten in such a short time when Alessandro approaches with a guitar in hand.

“It’s the best I could do. Will you play for me?” he asks.

I take it from him, weighing the acoustic in my hands. I check that it’s in tune and strum a few chords.

“Couldn’t hurt, I guess. Any requests?”

He leans down to kiss me on the cheek and then stretches out on the blanket to watch. “Whatever makes you happy,” he replies huskily. I stare at him for a moment, his face in shadow, the light of the fire flickering against his back. I let the moment flow through me, sink in deep, and then I let it out through my fingers.

I close my eyes, surrendering myself to the music, not even sure exactly what I’m playing, but still hearing the music pouring out of the old instrument, nonetheless.

As I finish the first song, I open my eyes. Everyone has settled themselves near us, intently listening to me play. I finish and give a laugh when they all start clapping enthusiastically.

There are various calls of “Bravissima!” and “More!” but I note Alessandro still lays on his side, staring at me, the fire now in his eyes. I know without a doubt that if we were alone, he’d be taking me on this blanket right now. I play more, but as far as I’m concerned, he’s my only audience. He doesn’t take his eyes off me as I continue playing a second, third, then a fourth song. Finally, my out-of-practice fingers need a break, and I thank everyone graciously for their applause.

I set the instrument gently down on the blanket next to me, and they all go back to what they were doing. Alessandro rises, offering me a hand.

“Walk with me?”

I take his hand without a word, and he leads me down the beach. We stop at a group of benches, settling in on one to watch the gentle lapping of the water at the shore.

“You play beautifully,” he says softly.

“Thank you,” I reply simply.

“Will I ever get to hear you sing?”

I look over at him in horror. “No. Um, decidedly not.”

He frowns. “Surely, it can’t be that bad.”

I shrug. “It’s not that. Singing in front of people is a level of vulnerable I’m just not ready for.” I have to stop myself from saying “I’m not capable of.” That would be a little too much honesty.

Thankfully, he lets it drop, and we sit, starting out at the dark water.

“I don’t want this to ever end,” I say softly.

He stares stoically at the ocean. “But it will,” he assures me softly. “And then what?”

I make a noise of frustration and shake my head. “That’s a question for another day.”

He turns and catches my eye. “I’m asking now.”

“No, you’re treading into dangerous territory now.”

“Nonetheless, I’m curious.”

I heave a deep sigh. “I don’t know,” I reply honestly. “I guess we just keep going and see what happens.”

“Is that what you want?” he asks plainly, turning toward me and pulling at the hem of my shorts.

“Yes,” I say. “For now.”

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