Say Yes by Kandi Steiner

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Art of Saying Yes

I couldn’t quite put my finger on Liam Benson.

As he dragged me through the streets of Florence, he blabbered on a mile a minute, which was so different from the cool, calm, collected, and mysterious aura he usually gave off. I was so used to him sitting in the classroom all aloof, or hanging out in the back corner of a dark bar looking at unsuspecting female prey.

I was not used to listening to him talk about his favorite gelato spots in town, or seeing him walk with a little bounce in his step, or being close enough to smell his body wash.

And I was definitely not used to him holding my hand.

I expected him to drop it after we got going, but he held my hand for the next few blocks like it was the most natural thing in the world, using the connection to weave us through busier tourist areas and down quiet alleyways until we hit the Ponte Vecchio, an old medieval stone bridge lined with shops.

“Okay,” he said when we hit the cusp, releasing his grip.

I immediately tucked my now-free hand into my jacket pocket to match the other.

“First thing’s first — we need a camera to document the night.”

I shook my head automatically. “I hate pictures. Well, of me, anyway.”

Liam folded his arms and arched a brow. “I’m sorry, I think I misheard you. I said, ‘First thing’s first, we need a camera to document the night.’ To which, on this special occasion, you would respond with…”

He waved his hand in a gesture for me to finish the sentence, leaving his palm spread in front of me like I was going to pull the word out and set it on an invisible golden platter.

I fought the urge to grumble. “Yes.”

“There it is! Heard you loud and clear that time.”

Liam winked, nodding toward a small shop with a myriad of cameras, tripods, backpacks and other gadgets in the windows. He ducked in first and I followed, staying more toward the entryway as he waltzed right up to the young man behind the counter.

“Ciao! Parli inglese?”

The young man shook his head.

“Hmm,” Liam answered, tapping his chin as he looked around the shop. Then, he turned back to the cashier and made a gesture like he was holding a camera to his eye, taking a picture, and then throwing the camera away. “Disposable camera?”

The cashier cocked his head, trying to understand the gesture the second time around, but then he shrugged.

Liam sighed, looking around the shop, when a young woman approached from behind him and smiled, rattling something off to the cashier. I only caught one word, buttar, which made the clerk’s eyes light up with recognition.

He waved us to the back, and then to a small hidden endcap with disposable cameras.

“Perfecto!” Liam exclaimed, holding up his hand for a high five.

The clerk laughed and slapped his hand before leaving us alone, and Liam called up a thank you to the woman at the register, who waved and smiled at me in a knowing way.

I wanted to tell her she knew nothing at all about this situation, and neither did I.

“Okay,” Liam said, turning his attention to the shelf. He scanned his finger along until he found a Kodak Fun Saver. “This oughta do.”

He held it up and tapped it against his palm before leading us to the register, and then he grabbed two mood rings from a display there.

“These, too, please,” he said, and before I could even reach for my wallet in my backpack, he slid a ten-thousand lira note over to the clerk and we were out the door.

Liam opened the camera package as soon as we were outside, tossing the box in the trash and winding the wheel until the first picture was loaded up and ready to snap.

Then, without warning, he aimed that damn thing right at me and clicked before I could register what was happening.

“Hey!”

“Just testing to make sure it works,” Liam said with a grin, then he tucked the camera in his jacket pocket.

“And what about these?” I asked, holding up the two mood rings. “Think they work?”

“Let’s find out,” he said.

He took the larger of the two and slipped it on, reading the small piece of paper that came with it as he waited for the colors to change. I put mine on, too, and waited just the same.

“Apparently, I’m in an active mood,” he said, holding up his finger to illustrate the deep green shade his ring had turned.

“And I’m nervous,” I assessed, looking at the red on mine.

“Sounds pretty accurate.”

I laughed. “Yes, I guess so.”

“Are you hungry?”

“Yes.”

“Hey! You’re getting better at this.”

I rolled my eyes.

“Have you had lampredotto yet?”

“Lampra-what?”

Liam’s smile grew. “Come on, this way.”

I followed him through the crowd a few stores down, but stopped short when I saw a strong glow at the end of all the shops. When Liam halted at a food cart, I kept walking, not slowing my step until I stood at the edge of the bridge where it met the other side of the river.

The sun was making its final descent, a golden ball of fire sinking behind the hills in the distance. The sky lit up with every shade of yellow and orange imaginable, the soft blue of dusk sneaking in on its tail. Every color reflected in the river, shimmering and majestic, and it was all I could do to just stand there in awe as lights slowly flickered on and brought on the nighttime sparkle of Florence.

The air seemed aglow, like there were soul particles floating and catching every ray of light.

Liam came up beside me, his eyes scanning the scenery, too.

“It’s beautiful,” I whispered.

Liam nodded, and while my eyes stayed forward, his turned to me. “Your painting was even better.”

I blinked before meeting his gaze. “Did you not hear Professor Beneventi?”

“I did. And I think he’s wrong.” Liam shrugged. “What you created was stunning. I would hang that in the most-visited room in my house, if I had one.”

I smirked, looking down at my feet as my cheeks flushed. “Even if it was predictable, as he said?”

“Even so.”

I glanced at him, and in the soft hue of the setting sun, his normally dark eyes took on an entirely new shade, the rim of his pupils highlighted in gold, the irises outlined in a rim of black.

Liam watched me for a long moment before he nodded back toward the way we came. “Come on. We can’t continue until you try this.”

I followed him back to the food cart, which was bustling, and when it was our turn, he ordered us two panini con lampredotto and a Coke to split.

The next thing I knew, I was holding a soft roll stuffed with some sort of thinly sliced meat that was roughly the size of my head, and was dripping more juice than the wrapper it came in could contain.

“Um. I think I’ll need some napkins,” I said, staring at the sandwich. It did smell divine, something spicy and herbal finding my nose as I stared at the beast and tried to figure out how best to attack it.

Liam grabbed a stack from the vendor, and then we took a seat at one of the small tables nearby with two metal chairs on either side.

“My mother would be horrified to see me even attempting to eat this without a fork and knife and napkin on my lap,” I commented, staring at the sandwich.

“Don’t think too much about it. You’re going to get messy,” Liam said, holding his own up to demonstrate. “Just open wide and go for it.”

He took a monstrous bite, the juices and some sort of salsa dripping down his chin as his eyes rolled back and he groaned his approval.

“Ohmahgah, issogoo.”

I chuckled, turning my attention back to the pile of meat sandwiched between two thick rolls in my hand. “Here goes nothing,” I said mostly to myself, and then I followed Liam’s lead and took a giant bite.

Flavor burst in my mouth, the tender meat juicy and delicious. Whatever spices they used gave it a hint of heat, but something else cooled it, leaving me with nothing but flavor.

And Liam snapped a picture before I had the chance to wipe the juices off my chin.

I smacked him with my mouth still full, and he barked out a laugh, putting the camera away and waiting for my verdict.

After I swallowed and took a sip of soda, I shook my head. “Wow. This is good. What is it?”

“Tastes like childhood, doesn’t it?” Liam asked, going after another bite.

I chuckled. “Well, my childhood was more baked salmon and roasted Brussel sprouts, but I get what you’re saying.”

“Where did you grow up?”

“Georgia. A little northwest of Savannah.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t live off barbecue and fried green tomatoes,” he said. “And that you don’t have more of an accent.”

“My mom does, but my dad moved to Georgia from Minnesota, so he’s got an entirely different way of speaking. I guess I kind of got a mix of the two. And I went to undergrad in Arizona, so I was exposed to all kinds of languages.” I paused. “I feel like I’m sort of like a sponge. When I’m around my mom, my accent is stronger. When I was at school, I sort of talked like whoever I was hanging with. It’s like I hear the accents and slang others use and pick up on it.”

“So you’ll be speaking Italian soon?”

“I wish,” I said on a snort, and then after another gargantuan bite was in my mouth, I nodded at Liam. “What about you? Where did you grow up?”

Liam stopped mid-bite, his face expressionless. “Connecticut,” he finally answered.

And that was all he answered.

“I’ve never been.”

Liam shrugged, finishing the last of his sandwich before he chucked the wrapping in the trash can. “Not much to see. I’m going to find a restroom. Be right back.”

He was up and halfway down the bridge before I could swallow and acknowledge his declaration, and I could sense the sour shift in his mood. I frowned, eating the rest of my sandwich and wondering if I’d said something wrong. But all I’d asked was where he was from, the same question he’d asked me.

I still hadn’t figured it out when Liam returned, but when he did, he wore a smile again, and it was as if the whole thing never happened.

“You finished?” he asked, nodding at what little was left of my sandwich.

“I think if I eat another bite, I’ll burst,” I said, patting my belly. I frowned. “You never did tell me what this is.”

Liam smirked. “Cow stomach.”

I blanched. “What?!”

He laughed, gathering my trash and throwing it away for me. “If I would have told you beforehand, you wouldn’t have tried it, would you?”

“Definitely not.”

“And did you like it?”

I sighed. “Yes. I did.”

“Don’t you love yes night?” Liam asked with a satisfied smile.

“Not as much as you love being right.”

“It really is my favorite thing.”

I stood on a chuckle, as ready as I could be for whatever came next. But before we could even take one step, an older man approached us.

“Excuse me,” he said in perfect English. “I’m sorry to interrupt, and this is going to sound strange, but… well… I bought tickets to the Dave Matthews concert at Tenax for me and my daughter. She’s your age,” he added with a smile. “Alas, she’s not feeling well and is recovering in our hotel. And if I’m being honest, this band isn’t really my taste of music.”

He smiled, shifting nervously.

“I was wondering if maybe you two would like the tickets? An unexpected date night, perhaps?”

“Oh, we’re not—” I tried to say, my cheeks aflame with the insinuation, but Liam interrupted my correction.

“How much?”

“I don’t expect you to pay for them,” the man said hurriedly. “I would just love them not to go to waste. And for someone who would enjoy the show to get to attend, as opposed to an old man stuck in the 70s.”

“Hey, that’s a great decade to be stuck in,” Liam joked. He looked at me then, arching a brow. “What do you say, babe? Up for a concert?”

I fought back a smile, shaking my head at how he was playing along like we were a couple. But then Liam gave me a look, the look, the one that said hey, it’s yes night, and if you want to loosen up and live a little, here’s your chance.

I smiled at him first and then at the older gentleman. “Absolutely. And thank you, this is so kind of you.”

The man beamed, reaching into his pocket and pulling out two tickets before handing them to Liam. “It’s my sincere pleasure. The show started about an hour ago, but there was an opener, I believe, and you know bands never start on time, anyway.”

“We’ll soak up whatever we can,” Liam assured him. “Thank you again.”

“You kids have fun,” the man said with a wave.

And then for good measure, Liam threw his arm around my shoulder and kissed my cheek. “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s go dance.”

The giggle that came from me was unlike any noise I’d ever made in my life. I wasn’t sure it belonged to me at all. But it wasn’t fake, and neither was the crimson flush that found my cheeks and neck once we waved goodbye to the man and turned to walk in the direction of the club.

“Yes night just got a whole lot more interesting,” Liam said when we were off the bridge, withdrawing his arm from around my shoulder and offering me a grin.

“Yeah,” I said on a breath, and when he looked away, my fingers traced the warm spot where his lips had pressed against my cheek. “It sure did.”

I was a sweat-soaked mess by the time we left the Tenax club two hours later.

We’d crammed into the already-packed venue just as Dave Matthews was taking the stage, and to my horror, Liam had pushed us up to the very front, thanks mostly to him claiming to everyone we passed that we’d gone to the restroom and our friends were at the front.

Once we got past the grumbling concert-goers, we were close enough to the stage to see the setlist taped on the floor in front of each member of the band.

Time slipped away after that.

It was a blur of hands raised in the air, and hips swaying side to side, and the entire club filling up with the strong stench of marijuana. I sang along to the songs I knew, which was only a couple, since I hadn’t really heard of them before a year ago, and closed my eyes and listened closely to the ones I didn’t. They played a song off their not-yet-released album called “Crash Into Me” that I knew I’d have on replay once the CD was out.

At one point, I opened my eyes to find a smiling Liam holding a joint in front of my face.

I took a hit that made my eyes water and coughed as Liam laughed and coached me through my next one.

And then, for the first time in my life, I was high.

I was high at a Dave Matthews Band concert.

In Florence, Italy.

It had to be a dream. That was the only explanation. No way could I be toking up in a packed club in a foreign country with an equally foreign to me boy.

But the sweat dripping down the back of my neck and my heart pounding loud in my chest and the music thumping through my soul were all proof that it was real.

I soaked up every blissful drop.

When we spilled back out into the streets after the show, I gathered my long blonde hair in my left hand and held it off my neck, reveling in the feel of the breeze hitting my hot skin.

“That was so much fun!” I said when we had separated from most of the crowd.

Liam chuckled. “Are your ears ringing?”

I frowned, because I hadn’t realized they were until that very moment. “Yes, actually.” I blushed. “Oh God, did I just scream much louder than I needed to?”

“I think your family back in Georgia heard you.”

I smiled, closing my eyes for a brief moment as a sigh left me. “I love their music. Dave is amazing, but Carter…”

“The drummer gets your motor revving, huh?”

“You have no idea.”

“Should I go back and see if he feels the same?”

My eyes shot open to find Liam pointing a thumb over his shoulder, and the look on his face told me he was only twenty-percent joking.

“Don’t you dare!”

He threw his hands up in surrender before an easy smile found him and he slid his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket.

“What about you?” I asked, fanning the back of my neck. “Did you enjoy it? From the t-shirts you usually wear, I have a hunch you never would have purchased those tickets on your own.”

Liam grinned. “I can find appreciation for almost all music, but yeah… I usually tend to lean toward concerts with mosh pits.”

“I like Nirvana.”

He cocked a brow. “Do you now?”

I nodded. “Nevermind is one of the best albums of our generation.”

“Okay. Best song on the album — ‘Come as You Are’ or ‘Smells Like Teen Spirit?’”

“Neither. ‘Stay Away’ gets my vote.”

Liam’s mouth turned down, brows shooting up like he was surprised I knew that song at all, let alone that it was my favorite.

“What about you?”

His expression melted. “‘Breed.’”

“A banger.”

The corner of his lips twitched like he wanted to smile, but it slipped too quickly, the same way it had when I asked him where he was from earlier.

“You mosh?”

He lit up with a laugh at that. “Sometimes. Do you?”

I gave him a look and gestured to myself. “I think you know the answer to that.”

“I think so, too. Hey,” he said, eyes lighting up with a snap of his fingers. “Maybe we could add that to the list tonight.”

“I think you missed your chance. Concert’s over.”

Liam shrugged. “Never know what the night might bring.”

We walked along in a comfortable silence, each of us looking around at the old stone buildings as we passed.

“How old are you?” I asked.

Liam barked out a laugh. “That question been burning in your mind?”

“No,” I lied, flushing. “Okay, well, maybe. You just… you look…”

“Old?”

“No!” I said in horror, but relaxed a little when I saw he was smiling. “Just… older. Than everyone else in our class, at least.”

“I’m twenty-eight.”

I nodded. “I’m twenty-two.”

“I had a feeling.”

“How did you find out about this program?”

“I looked up study abroad programs.”

“What school do you go to?”

“I don’t.”

I frowned. “What do you mean, you don’t?”

“I mean, I don’t. Not anymore. I graduated from undergrad six years ago.”

“Is this for grad school?”

“Nope.”

“I don’t understand. If it’s not for school, then why are you here?”

“Same as you, I imagine. To paint.”

I opened my mouth to ask another question, but stopped short when Liam came to an abrupt halt in the street.

His eyes caught on something behind me, and I arched a brow, turning to see what it was. We were nestled between tall brick and stone buildings with moonlit vines crawling the walls, the street empty save for us, but there was the sound of soft music coming from the home we had stopped in front of.

Written in chalk on a faded blackboard sign was chicken-scratch handwriting that said, in both Italian and English, Students at work. Models welcome. Knock before entering.

I was already shaking my head when I turned back to face Liam, but before I could protest, he rounded me and knocked on the large wooden door.

“Liam!” I hissed.

The door cracked open at first before opening a bit wider and revealing a petite girl with overalls and pigtails. Her height and attire made her look like she was twelve, but the way her eyes crinkled at the edges told me she was at least in her thirties.

“Models?” she asked in a thick accent, pointing to the two of us.

Liam nodded at the same time I shook my head.

The girl smiled, then held up her hand. “Hand models. We need.”

And in that instant, all the blood drained from my face.

The ringing in my ears from the concert was nothing compared to the way they rang now. The pitch spiraled higher and higher until it was all I could hear, even though I saw Liam’s lips moving and the girl’s moving, in return.

Liam turned and said something to me, but all I could do was stare and try to take my next breath, which seemed to be lodged in an unreachable space. My lungs burned with the need for oxygen. My soul burned with the need for space.

I read Liam’s lips as he mouthed my name, worry etched in his brow, and then he said something to the girl before grabbing me by the arms and steering me away from the building. I couldn’t even feel his hands on me. Everything was numb.

It wasn’t until we were several feet away that a breath finally found me, and I gasped as if I’d been submerged under water, tearing away from Liam’s grasp. My back hit the brick wall and I slid down, the brick scraping my skin even through my jacket as I fell to a seated position before hugging my knees to my chest.

I didn’t realize I was shaking my head over and over, vigorously, until Liam set a gentle hand on my shoulder. That touch snapped me out of my haze, and when I looked at him, at his brows bent together with concern, I realized my cheeks were soaked with tears.

I blinked, reaching my left hand up to wipe my face quickly before I buried my face in shame. “I’m sorry, but I… I can’t…”

“I know,” Liam said simply.

He lowered himself down to sit in front of me, his worn combat boots lining up next to my sneakers on the cobblestone. I stared at our shoes as silence fell over us, my labored breathing slowly evening out, the ringing in my ears softening.

“Will you tell me what happened?” Liam asked after a moment. “To your hand.”

I inhaled, exhaled, blinked several times, and then peeled my right hand out from where I’d had it tucked around my knees.

It seemed impossible, how steady I held it between us knowing Liam was staring at it.

At the part of me I was so used to hiding.

“I was born like this,” I whispered.

Liam swallowed, his eyes flicking to me and then back to my hand as he reached out. “May I?”

I didn’t answer but to close my eyes, and I kept them closed even after I felt his hands on mine, his rough and calloused palms and long, cool fingers exploring the foreign map of my underdeveloped hand.

I focused on my breathing as he traced my palm, dragging his fingers up and over my own, with gentle care around the smaller, not-fully-formed ones between my thumb and pinky.

After a moment, I creaked one eye open and then the next, watching Liam’s careful concentration as he explored.

He was so handsome it hurt.

His hair was still damp from the concert, a few strands sticking to his neck and the side of his face while the dry ones fell in front of his eyes. Those eyes were as dark as ever, roaming every inch of my hand under furrowed brows. The street was dark, save for a few hanging street lamps, and they cast an overhead glow that played with the shadows on his cheeks and jaw.

I was so used to people looking at my hand with disgust, or pity, or at the very best, curiosity.

I’d never seen someone stare at it with reverence before, like it wasn’t something to be pitied at all.

Like it was beautiful.

“I stopped growing before my due date,” I said softly. “The doctors didn’t notice until it had been four weeks or so with no growth, and then they had to take me early. When they did, I was a little small but otherwise fine.” I paused. “At least, they thought I was, until they saw my hand.”

Liam’s eyes flicked to mine, holding my gaze briefly before he went back to inspecting my hand.

“When I was younger, I had to go to the doctor every six months to make sure it was growing, to do occupational therapy, to make sure everything was okay.” I breathed a laugh through my nose. “As if it was ever okay.”

Liam’s thumb drew a line across my palm, pinky to thumb, his mouth pulling to the side. After what felt like an eternity, he lifted his gaze to mine. “You don’t need to hide it the way you do.”

I snorted. “Are you kidding?” I pulled my hand from him and held my knees close again. “You don’t have to look at people’s faces when they see it.”

“Screw them,” he said, as if it were easy, as if it was the simplest notion to just ignore the way people stared at you.

I pulled my hand from where I’d tucked it away and rotated it in-between us, flexing my thumb and pinky as we both watched. “My entire life, I’ve been the girl with the deformed hand. No matter what I do despite it, that’s my identity. I’m not the girl with the big smile or the girl with the mole above her lip or the girl who wears the cool clothes or the girl who likes to paint. I’m just…” I sighed. “The girl with the hand.”

Liam watched me curiously when I looked beyond my hand to where he sat, his eyes flicking between mine. “I think we should go in there.”

I frowned, not understanding until he looked back at the door I’d just fled from.

I shook my head violently. “I can’t.”

“Yes, you can.”

Panic seeped into my bones again, but Liam lowered his gaze until it was level with mine, holding my attention in a calm gaze.

“I’ll be there with you,” he promised. “And if it’s too much at any time, just say the word and we’re gone. But I think you should try it. I think…” He paused for a moment, his eyes falling to my hand again. “I think if you want people to start seeing the real you, you’ve got to see her first. You have to accept and love your hand so that others can, too. And you have to see who you are despite it.” He shrugged. “Maybe you need a fresh look. To see it through someone else’s eyes.”

It sounded so sweet, so romantic, at the very base of what he was asking. But he couldn’t understand how weak even the thought of showing someone my hand made me feel, let alone making it the center of attention in a room full of artists.

“You don’t understand,” I whispered. “This is the most terrifying thing you could ever ask of me.”

“Tell you what. You do this, and afterward, I’ll do something that terrifies me, too.”

“I can’t think of anything that would scare you.”

His eyes met mine. “You’ll never find out, if you don’t jump first.”

“Why do I have to jump first?” I pouted.

Liam smirked. “Because it’s yes night, and it was all your idea to begin with.”

“Stupidest idea ever.” I sighed, looking at the chalkboard sign before I looked back at Liam. “If I say the word, we’re gone?”

“Without question.”

I nodded, chest tightening like an iron fist around my already-shallow lungs. But in the back of my mind, I heard Professor Beneventi urging me out of my comfort zone, and I heard dozens of voices whispering about my small hand, and I heard my innermost desire screaming for me to break free of the chains I’d somehow tangled myself in my entire life.

Maybe this was a chance to face this part of me I’d chosen to hide for far too long.

Maybe if I could face it, I could step out from under its shadow.

Maybe I would pass out in a room full of strangers.

There was only one way to find out.

After the most calming breath I could muster, I turned back to Liam and nodded.

He smiled. “Atta girl.”

He was on his feet in the next instant, his hand reaching down for mine. But when I reached up my left hand to take his, he shook his head, waving his fingers at the one braced on the ground.

My small hand.

He waited until I connected the dots, and when I extended my right hand in the air, he grabbed it gently and helped me stand. The smile he gave me was a confident one, one that told me he had me, that I could trust him, that there was nothing to worry about.

He kept my hand in his until we were once again knocking on that large, wooden door.

And I prayed he was right.