Chapter 9 Apartment Steps
Sophia should have said goodnight after the second bench. That would have been the reasonable, adult thing to do. She had class tomorrow. Vinny had work. Her mother had probably checked the clock at least five times already, and Victoria had sent one text that said only:
Still alive?
Sophia had answered with a thumbs-up because words would only encourage her.
But then Vinny had asked, “One more block?” and Sophia had said yes before the smart part of her brain could object.
So now they were walking again. Slowly. The kind of slowly that made it obvious neither of them was in a hurry.
The sun had dipped lower, leaving the streetlights to do most of the work.
Little Italy looked softer at this hour.
Restaurant windows glowed, a couple came out of a bakery carrying a white box tied with string, and someone laughed too loudly outside a bar.
Cars rolled by on the cross street, tires hissing over pavement that still looked damp from yesterday’s rain.
Vinny walked beside her with the picnic basket in one hand and his jacket zipped halfway up. He kept matching her pace.
Sophia noticed because she kept expecting him to forget.
His legs were so much longer than hers that he could have been two steps ahead without trying.
Instead, he slowed when she slowed. Stopped when she stopped near a window display of old books.
Waited when she paused to fix the strap of her bag.
Not making a show of it. Just doing it. It was worse than a show.
A show she could question. This was harder to argue with.
“You’re quiet,” Vinny said.
Sophia glanced at him. “I’m thinking.”
“Dangerous.”
“For me or you?”
“Probably me.”
She smiled. He smiled back, then looked away like he was trying not to stare too long.
That made her stomach flutter. It had been doing that all evening.
Little jumps and little drops. Every time his hand got close to hers.
Every time he said something careful. Every time he didn’t say something he clearly wanted to.
She hadn’t expected restraint to feel romantic.
Before Vinny, Sophia had assumed romance was probably big.
Loud. Confident. People in movies always seemed to know where to put their hands and when to lean closer.
Tonight hadn’t been like that. It had been sandwiches that didn’t fall apart.
Lemon cookies. A bench outside a closed bookstore.
Vinny asking if she wanted to walk home, walk to the train, or say goodnight where they were. He hadn’t pulled her anywhere.
And somehow, she kept choosing to stay.
“What are you thinking about?” he asked.
Sophia looked ahead. “That this has gone longer than I expected.”
His eyebrows lifted. “Bad?”
“No.”
“Fine?”
She looked at him. His voice had gone careful. She liked that too.
“Yes,” she said. “Right.”
The smile he gave her was brief but bright enough to make her look away first. They reached the corner near a low church with a black iron fence and flower boxes under the side windows.
Sophia slowed, not because she needed to stop, but because the street looked familiar now.
Too familiar. They were getting close to her apartment.
Her body knew before her mind wanted to admit it.
The blocks had become hers. The bakery her mother liked, the corner store where Constance bought emergency milk and gossip, the narrow brick building with the green awning three doors down from their place.
The date was ending. Her chest tightened. Vinny noticed. He did.
“You all right?”
Sophia nodded. Then stopped and corrected herself, because she was trying not to hide behind easy answers.
“I don’t want it to be over yet,” she said.
Vinny went still for half a second. Then his expression softened in a way that made her regret and not regret saying it.
“Me neither.”
Being answered like that could become a problem.
A nice problem. Probably a dangerous one.
They walked another block. The sidewalk narrowed, so Vinny shifted closer to the street without making a big thing of it.
Sophia noticed that too. She noticed everything now.
The way his hand flexed on the basket handle.
The way he checked traffic before they crossed.
The way he almost reached for her once when a cyclist went too close, then stopped himself because she had already stepped back.
That last one made her look at him. He shrugged a little, like he knew exactly what she had caught.
“Learning,” he said.
Sophia smiled. “I see that.”
“Good.”
They stopped at the crosswalk. The light stayed red.
Sophia looked at their reflections in the dark window of the closed deli beside them.
Vinny tall and broad, basket at his side.
Sophia modest beside him, cream sweater bright against the dark glass.
From the outside, they probably looked like a couple.
Not officially or really. But almost. Her pulse jumped at the word, almost. So many almosts with Vinny.
There had been the almost-kiss in the walk-in and every unfinished moment after.
The crossing light changed. They walked.
When they reached the little square two blocks from her apartment, Sophia slowed again.
There was a bench near the simple fountain.
The fountain was off for the evening, but the bench faced the street, and an older man sat on the far end reading a newspaper like it was still morning. Vinny followed her glance.
“One more?” he asked.
Sophia laughed. “This is getting ridiculous.”
“Very.”
They sat anyway. Not far apart this time.
The basket sat near Vinny’s feet. Sophia’s bag rested in her lap.
The older man turned one page of his newspaper, looked at them once, then went back to reading.
The old man’s attention shifted back to his paper.
A stranger sat nearby, the street was normal, and nothing was hidden.
Sophia let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.
Vinny leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “I think we are both bad at ending dates.”
“This is my first one, so I have nothing to compare it to.”
“I’ve had dates before and I’m still bad at it.”
Sophia looked at him. “You didn’t seem nervous.”
He laughed once. “That is because you were busy being nervous.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“It is a defense.”
“Not a good one.”
“No.” He looked at his hands. “I was nervous.”
“Still?”
“Right now?” He glanced at her. “Yeah.”
Her stomach flipped again.
“Why?”
He almost said something easy. Then he didn’t.
“Because I want to kiss you,” he said.
Sophia stopped breathing. The words were still. Plain. Not thrown at her or used to trap her. Just placed between them where she could see them. The older man turned another page of his newspaper. A car passed. Somewhere behind them, a woman called a dog’s name. The world kept going. Sophia didn’t.
Vinny looked down at the sidewalk. “And I’m not going to do that here unless you tell me to. I just figured I should be honest instead of acting like I’m thinking about the weather.”
Sophia’s hands tightened around the strap of her bag.
She had no idea what to say. She knew what she wanted.
That was the problem. She wanted to kiss him so badly she could barely think through all the reasons to stay calm.
She wanted to know what it was like to kiss him when it wasn’t three seconds from disaster in a walk-in cooler.
She wanted to find out if his mouth would be soft.
If he would taste like lemon cookies. If she would know what to do.
She also wanted to run up the street to her apartment and hide in her room until she turned twenty-one.
Both things felt possible. Vinny looked at her face, then nodded once.
“Too far,” he said. “Sorry.”
“No.”
The word came out fast. He stilled.
Sophia swallowed. “Not too far.”
His gaze came back to hers. She felt heat climb her neck.
“I just…” She looked down, then back up because if she looked down too long, she would disappear. “I think if we kiss, I want it to be at my apartment steps.”
Vinny’s expression changed. Soft. Careful. A little stunned.
“All right,” he said.
“Not because I want the date to end.”
“I know.”
“I mean, it will end. Obviously. But—”
“Sophia.”
She stopped.
He smiled a little. “Apartment steps.”
Her face warmed.
“All right.”
They stood. The walk from the little square to her building was two blocks.
The two blocks went too slowly and too fast at the same time.
Sophia became aware of everything. She noticed her shoes on the sidewalk, the cool air on her cheeks, Vinny’s steps beside hers, the picnic basket in his hand, and her phone buzzing once in her bag.
Probably Victoria. Definitely Victoria. Sophia ignored it.
Her apartment building came into view. Three floors.
Old brick. Black railing. Stone steps that had one crack near the bottom her mother kept saying the landlord needed to fix before someone broke a hip and sued loudly.
The front window of their apartment glowed on the second floor.
Constance was home. She was home. Sophia stopped at the bottom of the steps.
Vinny stopped beside her, leaving enough space that she could go up if she wanted. She looked at the door. Then at him.
He set the basket down near his feet. Low. No joke and no clever line. Thank goodness.
“I had a really good time,” he said.
Sophia smiled, nervous and real. “Me too.”
“I know that sounds basic.”
“It’s fine.”
“I mean it.”
“I know.”
The streetlight caught his face. He looked nervous again. Not fake nervous, but real. That steadied her. She wasn’t the only one standing there with too much feeling and not enough experience for what came next. Vinny looked at the steps, then at her.