Chapter 14
JULES
Mr. Stick Up His Ass was back with a vengeance.
At first when he’d fallen asleep on the train back, I was a little disappointed.
No history lessons. Or wondering if he’d moved so close to me on purpose.
With no phone to look at—the phone store in Florence had proven to be a bust—and no one to talk to, I closed my eyes and tried to sleep too.
Instead, I listened to Cole’s steady breathing, and the group of friends in front of us speaking in Italian, and the woman behind us asking her husband in English if they’d missed their stop.
As usual, my mind wouldn’t slow down.
I thought of my book, on hold now for over a month. Of my classes. But mostly, about the sleeping guy next to me who was as much of an enigma as the reason I’d strolled away from the bathroom sans backpack.
“This is our stop.”
How long had he been awake?
“Okay,” I said, not feeling particularly chatty.
It was exhausting keeping up with all these versions of Cole.
Neither of us said a word on the way back.
Not as we left the train station, or made our way through the pedestrian tunnel, away from Old Town toward the beach hotels.
In fact, the only thing we exchanged were a few innocuous glances and more than one yawn.
“You can use the bathroom first,” he said as we made our way into the room. Neither of us had mentioned that since Parker and Delaney moved out of their room, there should be an extra. I should probably do something about that in the morning.
“You’re up,” I said, ready for bed. Cole hardly looked at me.
I turned off the lamp, pulled the covers to my neck, and turned my back to him. Trying not to imagine him in the shower, the sound of running water making its way clearly into the bedroom, I yawned again, wondering how I would possibly sleep.
* * *
A knock on the door jolted me awake.
I spun around, groggy, and looked at Cole’s bed. Empty.
Somehow, not only did I fall asleep, but it was nearly nine o’clock, according to the alarm on the nightstand.
Heading to the door, I fixed my top bun, looked down to see how much nipple was popping through in my thin nightshirt (not too bad) and opened the door.
Just like yesterday, Cole was in running clothes.
Sweaty.
And hot as hell.
It was the lack of glasses. They were fine, cute in their own way, but without them? He seemed… just, different.
“Why did you open the door?” he said, coming inside.
“Maybe because you knocked on it?” I shot back, heading to the bathroom.
“You had no idea who I was.”
Grabbing the outfit I’d laid out the night before on top of my suitcase, I locked myself inside and called, “Oops,” not knowing if he heard me. It was only after I showered and dressed that I realized he might have needed to use the bathroom.
“I wasn’t thinking,” I said, stopping dead in the center of the room. Cole was showered and dressed. What the hell?
“I got another room. Figured it would be easier. Moved my stuff over there but used my key”—he held a card up—“to get back in.”
Oh. Of course. “Good idea,” I said, hoping he didn’t notice the catch in my voice. I’d planned to do the same today anyway.
So why did it bother me?
You know why.
“That was a quick change.” And then I remembered the question I had in the shower. “Why did you knock, anyway?”
“Forgot my key.”
Of course. “Hmm. Well.” Suddenly, it was awkward again.
“You mentioned wanting to see all five towns. I hope you don’t mind but I grabbed a ferry pass for us both. To see all four in one day, we’ll need to get moving.”
So he still wanted to stay. That was something, I supposed.
And so it went.
On the ferry. At the first of the five Cinque Terre towns.
At lunch. At the second town. Vernazza was lovely, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d done something wrong.
Finally, after we got off the ferry in Corniglia, after climbing the infamous Lardarina steps to the top, I decided to say something.
“This looks like a good spot for a drink,” I said. An outdoor restaurant, poised just at the top of the stairs, was mostly already filled. Not surprising, given the view. We were rewarded for our uphill hike with an unparalleled view of the sea below. Breathtaking.
I ordered a limoncello spritz. Cole, a beer.
“Wouldn’t have taken you for a Peroni guy.”
“I’m not usually,” he said, thanking the waiter who came back with our drinks. “Was in the mood for a cold drink after that climb. It was deceptively high.”
“Supposedly this town is famous for it. But the payoff is pretty sweet. Look at the view.”
“Spectacular,” he agreed. “The woman at the front desk said only about two hundred people live here. Must be hard to get supplies.”
“I’d assume they come from inland. Can you imagine dragging a case of beer up that hill?”
“Or limoncello,” he said, nodding to my drink.
I tried to imagine other necessities that would have to be hauled up here. “Or bushels of bananas.”
Cole smiled. “Or a new mattress.”
On and on we went, each thinking of increasingly outrageous “necessity” items.
“Or a stroller,” I said, seeing a father carrying one past us.
Cole ordered us another round.
“Do you want kids?”
My answer was immediate. “Absolutely. My mom had some trouble when I was born, was told it would be dangerous to have another baby, so I’ve always wanted to have a big family. You?”
A shadow passed his features. Cole didn’t respond. Realizing he was looking at something beyond me, people hiking up the cliffside, I turned completely. But there was nothing except a family. Parents and twin sons.
I turned back around, about to ask him the question again, when Cole finally answered.
“I would like them, but don’t see it happening.”
“Why?” I asked bluntly.
He shrugged. But I wasn’t letting him off that easy.
“Did I do something wrong?” I asked. “You’ve been off since last night. And this”—I waved my hand to him—“is the old Cole.”
He actually laughed at that. “Old Cole? Who’s the new one?”
I thought back. Was it the night we talked? No, maybe before that.
“I dunno. At some point the day you came I realized you weren’t spawned from the devil.”
“Did you now?” he teased.
“Yes. And don’t avoid the question.”
He was looking at my lips. Blinking, Cole sat back in his seat, stared out to sea and sighed.
“Go on,” he said, as if resigned. “Tell me the difference between ‘new’ and ‘old’ Cole. Last I noticed, there was only one of me.”
Easy. “Old Cole looked at me like I was a bug crawling out from under a rock. New Cole noticed I was a ladybug, and not so scary.”
“A ladybug?”
I nodded, warming up to the topic. “New Cole has nicknames for me. And talks”—this was a biggie—“into the night. Old Cole clams up, hardly says a word and gets a new room, without even talking to me about it.”
There. All in the open.
“I got the impression you wanted separate rooms.”
How did he get that impression, exactly? I’d already said too much. Letting Cole know I was disappointed about our new room arrangement was one thing. Harping on it… entirely another.
“How would you have a clue? You basically stopped talking to me.”
“You wanna talk?”
I nodded.
“Then let’s talk.”
Just like that, new Cole was back. If I were a ladybug, he was a turtle. Cole had come back out of his shell, but it was still there, and there was no telling when he’d retreat back inside.
More importantly, why.