Page 31 of Count Down
“Maybe you do.”
Luca tilts his head back slightly, watching me and waiting for me to expand.
“Just because everyone else doesn’t value that, it doesn’t mean you can’t.” As I explain, Luca’s eyebrows knit together. “We could argue that there’s no use for drawing or painting once photography came out. Or that we could just let Artificial Intelligence write or at least narrate all our books. Or we could say there’s absolutely no point for any dance or artwork or anything else because something else is more efficient and can provide more value.”
Luca nods in agreement, catching on to my point.
Now we’ve hit a topic I’m passionate about. “The end isn’t always the goal. Sometimes it’s the means of getting there. The relationship you build on the journey. That’s what matters.”
Luca nods and is now fully smiling. “I don’t disagree.”
Our waiter shows up and delivers our tiramisu while Luca is still smiling. The waiter provides us each with new napkins and dessert forks. I pick my fork up to start at the tiramisu.
Luca picks up his fork and reaches for the tiramisu as well. Just before his fork reaches it, he pauses and hesitates. He looks at me, tilting his head slightly to the side. “It’s not just the dinner and the dessert. Sometimes the real value is in the conversation waiting for it to arrive.”
I cover my mouth while I try not to laugh with my mouth full of tiramisu. Once I’ve swallowed it down, I point my fork at Luca. “That might be sweeter than the tiramisu.”
Luca takes a bite and rolls his eyes. But he’s still smiling bigger than I’ve ever seen him smile before.
Maybe it’s his smile. Maybe it’s the delicious food. Maybe it’s the wine getting to me or the way he’s opening up, but I’m more attracted to him than I’ve ever been. The memory of what we did in my bedroom earlier today floats to the surface of my thoughts, and the separation this tiny table creates between us suddenly seems like too much.
We have to get out of here.
25
LUCA
I findmyself forgetting how I know Gina. I’ve almost forgotten who her father is and what I’m supposed to do to him. How I’m supposed to wreak havoc on her life.
When we got to the restaurant and Gina said her last name, it reminded me. She’s Gina Nicoletti. Daughter of Richard Nicoletti who I plan to murder next week. I’d do almost anything to change that. I wish the DA wasn’t Gina’s father. They’re nothing alike. When I’m with her, I forget he exists. Until she says her last name.
During dinner, her conversation pulls me in. She’s got me thinking about and sharing things I’ve never thought or shared before. And I don’t feel bad about it. I don’t feel bad letting her into my life. I want her in my life. I just don’t know how long my life will let her stay.
As we eat the tiramisu by dim candlelight, I know this dinner is coming to an end. I don’t want it to. I want to stay with her. What we did earlier today barely scratched the surface. The more I experience with her, the more I want.
After dessert, the waiter brings the bill in a black leather book. He starts to hand it to me, but Gina reaches over and grabs it from him. “It’s my treat.” I ignore the waiter as he raises his eyebrows at me.
“Are you sure?” I ask.
“Yes,” Gina slips her card in the book and sets it back on the edge of the table. “This was my thank you for helping me move.”
“Well, I appreciate it.”
Gina and I walk slowly hand-in-hand back to the car, in no rush to get there. She’s got her black leather jacket on, the one she was carrying before dinner. The hot summer day turned into a comfortable summer night while we were inside.
When we get to the car, I open her door and hold it open. Instead of getting in, she leans close to me, extending up on her tip toes and kisses me. She places her hands to either side of my face and pulls me into the kiss. Her taste is already familiar to me, and it goes well with the traces of wine on her lips. My cock starts to harden at the softness of her touch.
She breaks away and gets into the car. When I catch my breath, I close her door and walk around to the driver’s side. When I get in, she’s turned in her seat slightly toward me, sitting with one leg tucked under her.
“You know,” she reaches across the center of the car and puts her hand on top of mine. “I didn’t have time to put my bed together yet. So, there’s not much sense in staying at my place.”
“Do you want to go back to mine?”
She nods and smiles. She adjusts and sits straight in her seat then buckles her seat belt. “Let’s go!” She slaps her hands on her knees.
I laugh and then buckle my seat belt. Gina’s excitement to come back to my place is making me even harder. I start the car and quickly pull away from the curb. I zip down Fairmount toward the Schuylkill River then turn left down past the Museum of Art, Paine’s Park, and down 24thto I-676. I make twists and turns around the park before getting on the freeway. I take I-676 just to get around Logan Square and get back off on Vine. I’m eager to get Gina back to my place as quickly as possible.
She laughs as she grips the door and the center armrest as we turn right onto 12thstreet. A few blocks down I turn off into a small alley. My garage door slides sideways across the base of a concrete building, and I turn into my carport.