Those Days of Summer Ch. 03

I opened up my eyes, woken by the sound of Marcel's suitcase unzipping. I turned over and saw him preparing fresh clothes for the day. Now it was the morning sun caressing his back and long, athletically curved legs. Sunlight and moonlight - two lovers taking turns to fondle their cherished paramour. No matter the light, his silhouette was equally beautiful.

Did he hear me moving in bed? Even if he did, he stayed unbothered, continuing his morning routine. His shorts fell down, exposing his butt and all the rest. I didn't look away, paralyzed, mesmerized... I watched him put on another pair of briefs, and then our eyes met. His face turned towards me, his eyes were asking - do you like what you see? When I saw his lips forming into that devilish smile, "do you like what you see?" started playing in my head on repeat. His cheeks, his jawline, his neck, his collarbones, his chest, his nipples, his stomach, his butt, his cock, his thighs, his calves, his heels, his toes... "do you like what you see?"

I pretended indifference, turning away and, thanking the heavens my crotch was hidden under the sheets. Had he noticed the way my body reacted to the sight of his naked silhouette, I would have died of shame.

He asked me to go running with him again, but my answer stayed the same as always. And once more he didn't insist, acting as usual. I, on the other hand, was feeling completely out of place. With my hands sweaty and my mind dirty, I awaited my intruder's leaving. The moment Marcel's steps blew over downstairs, my hand reached out to grab the familiar hardening.

Led by some inexplicable impulse, I kneeled down and took out the sketchbook from under my pillow. There he was, half naked, caressed gently by moonlight's sensual touch. I couldn't resist anymore. His skin, his smile, his fingers... Do you like what you see? I felt my shorts slipping down, fingers wrapping around my cock. Do you like what you see? Was it my hand, or his? Do you like what you see? I moaned softly, closing my eyes and imagining him behind me. His crotch pressed against my butt, his hand sliding fast down my length. Do you like what you see? My hips moving along, nearing an inevitable end. Do you like what you see? I could swear he was there. I could swear I felt his body tremble with pleasure next to mine. I could swear I heard him whisper teasingly...

Do you like what you see?

Have I lost my mind? What am I even doing? I kept asking myself as soon as the haze of desire faded away. I closed the book and threw it to the desk. He can't find out. That would be a disaster.

I jumped out of the bed, and immediately ran under the shower, impatient to wash away the guilt. It wasn't the first time I jerked off thinking about someone I had met. But it was usually total strangers involved in my fantasies, people I saw once and never again. I didn't have to look them in the eye afterwards and deal with embarrassment. It wasn't one of such cases unfortunately.

When I returned to the room, Marcel was already back from his run. I saw him standing by the desk, going through the pages of my sketchbook.

"Hey! Did I let you touch my things?" I bursted out with irrational anger. Was it him I was irritated with, or was I just mad at myself?

"Oh, I'm sorry," he looked at me all amused. "Shouldn't you have asked permission as well?"

"Excuse me?" I stuttered out, well-aware what he was driving at.

"Sleeping people are usually unaware of them being sketched, you know... You should have asked." His lips pouted, but then he smiled again, leaning closer towards me. My back broke out in goosebumps when I heard him whisper "I would have let you."

His superior stare was telling me - checkmate, Vic, try harder next time. I gritted my teeth and stayed silent with my arms crossed. His face was getting more and more amused.

"You can draw me anytime you want. I'm at your disposal," he announced before turning his footsteps towards the exit. "I can do nudes too," he added with a smirk and disappeared behind the door.

Now he's mocking me! Nudes? Does he know...? The sole thought made me feel light-headed. Wasn't my indifference enough to cover up the growing interest I had towards him? What was it that betrayed me? Was it the stare I gave him in the morning? Was it the fact I decided to draw him in the night? Or was it the look on my face when we first met each other?

Damn, I wanted to hate him. I wanted to despise him, but I desired his presence. I wanted to avoid him, but I was hungry for his attention. I wanted to ignore him, but I was thirsty for his affection. Why do we most long for things we shouldn't have?

We didn't talk much later that day, neither by the breakfast table, nor at work. He seemed to forget our short exchange, but I couldn't stop thinking about it. His words were stridently echoing inside of my mind, impossible to silence.

In the afternoon when we came home from the shooting site, I saw him getting ready to go out with the girls again. I stared at him from over the pencil-covered pages, as he was brushing his unruly hair. He changed into a loose designer shirt, ready-to-wear but top quality, pretty expensive.

"Did you do work for Valentino?" I asked curiously, noticing the tag under his collar, and spontaneously starting to outline my model's silhouette. "The shirt you're wearing..."

"Not yet," he laughed lightheartedly. "No, I got it from a friend. You like it?"

"Suits you well," I replied, sketching bright red leaves adorning the sleeves.

"Are you doing what I think you're doing?" He raised an eyebrow, looking at me from over his shoulder.

"You said I can draw you whenever I want."

"Are nudes coming next then?" He laughed, going back to the mirror.

I hope so, I thought, and my cheeks warmed up with embarrassment. Hell, don't let him know, Victor.

"Why would I like to draw you naked?" I asked with a dismissive snort.

"Why wouldn't you?" he smiled with confidence and turned around to pass me by.

There he was, heading out God knows for how long. Again... I grabbed the corner of his shirt, like a child showing its parent the need for attention.

"Wait..." I gasped out.

The thought of him spending another night out was just unbearable. No amount of cigs would calm me down this time. If he was about to drink beer by the lake, I wanted to drink from the same bottle, if he was about to lose his money playing cards, I wanted to watch him get his ass kicked, if he was to flirt with the girls, I needed to hear it with my own ears. He laid his eyes on me, half-surprised, half-amused, while I was fighting for my heart to calm down.

"Are you going to the lake?" I asked, pretending to examine the material of his shirt.

"You wanna join?"

I nodded without words, looking expectantly into his green, curious eyes. His fingers touched my palm, still squeezed around the fabric of his shirt. I instinctively grabbed his hand, and he pulled me upwards. He was smiling at me playfully. Was he laughing off my juvenile way of drawing his attention? Or was he just happy I finally decided to accompany him in the escapade?

"Come on let's go," he hurried me up before dragging me with him. "Others are already there."

When we arrived at the beach, the girls were lazing around on the sand, accompanied by Carmina's boyfriend, Vito. The couple was all clingy, cuddling and swaying to the summer hits playing through a compact speaker. Paolina simply couldn't stop smiling from the moment she saw Marcel. The girl was definitely trying to get on the right side of his. Her face changed for a moment when she noticed I was coming along though.

"Ciao Paolina." I tried to act casually, even though we were no longer chumming along. "Come va? Anything new in Vagli Sopra?"

"Same old." She replied, eyeballing my silhouette. "You've brazened since last summer," I might have heard a dose of admiration in her voice. "But you're still skinny as shit. Some exercise wouldn't hurt. Just look at Marcel," she smiled at him. "Running everyday, aren't you?"

"Why don't you go and jog yourself, Paolina?" I replied bitterly, crossing my arms on the chest.

"Yeah, why not? Would you mind if I join your morning run tomorrow, Marcel?"

He smiled kindly, leaned towards her with a bright face and answered, "How about I show you a few exercises? Just running isn't enough to grow muscles."

I rolled my eyes. Their little game was making me sick. It was obvious she was only into him to get laid and boast about how she stole the heart of a foreign model. The girl was a maneater. The question was - will he catch the hook?

"Go on," Paolina laughed lightly. "A bit of pilates won't hurt."

I laid down on the towel, opening some book I grabbed from the shelf before leaving. Focusing on the letters wasn't an easy task. My eyes kept going back to Marcel's half-naked silhouette, doing the most ridiculous variants of abs exercises on the sand. He was flexing in front of Paolina, making her blush, laugh and shy away from the attempts of imitating his actions.

When our eyes finally met I couldn't catch the meaning of his glance. Did he notice a spark of jealousy in my look? He sent me a fleeting smile and ran into the water, ignoring both me and the girl he was just trying to impress. Paolina looked at me briefly before joining him, undeterred and with a smiling face.

"Hey, Marcel," she accosted him when we were drinking beer on the shore later that day. "I'm throwing a party on Saturday night. Would you join?"

He gave her a suspicious look from over the bottle of Peroni.

"Occasion?"

"Eighteenth birthday," answered Carmina in place of her friend, chuckling under her nose.

That was about right. I recalled that Paolina used to make some sort of celebration at the start of each summer vacation when we were kids.

"Oh my, that's huge," Marcel suddenly became all excited. "We must go, right Vic?"

"I'm sorry?" I was surprised he even considered my participation. Paolina seemed no less shocked.

"What would you like to get, Paola? We have to pick something special," he continued.

"Oh, come on," she laughed nervously. "Your presence is just enough of a gift."

"Nonsense, we'll think of something nice, won't we, Vic?" He put his hand on my shoulder, pulling me closer, as if it was something we've decided about mutually.

Right... I didn't dare to argue this time. The temptation to see utter disappointment on the girl's face was stronger than the fear of Marcel demasking my motives. So I agreed, even offered myself to borrow Marco's car and drive us to Castelnuovo in search of presents. Marcel was rapturous, Paolina thrown off balance. And their reactions were quite a satisfying thing to watch, I must admit.

"Why did you have to drag me into this whole birthday thing?" I asked him when we were left alone on our way home.

"I just thought it would be fun." He shrugged his shoulders with a smirk.

With his modeling career he must have been used to partying. By all means, it's not a requirement to attend all the social gatherings accompanying fashion events. But participation in little banquets and after-parties can surely open a door or two. I imagined Marcel must have been in his element during those. A life like that was not something an introvert of my kind would easily pursue though.

"I'm not quite the party person," I said with a bitter undertone. "You must've noticed it already."

He just looked at me with an amused expression on his face, and continued to climb the pebbled path, completely unbothered. Another one of his games, I thought, and stopped suddenly, crossing my arms on my chest. He came over to me, and leaned on the ledge by the road slightly surprised, but with a wide smile on his face.

"Does it make you happy?" I asked, raising my eyebrows.

"Why did you agree?" He fixed me with a calm stare.

"I have my reasons," I replied with my chin perked high, and my eyes looking the other way.

"Reasons, what reasons?" He seemed amused with my tentative answer.

"Not gonna tell you."

"Give me one. One reason," he continued to banter me. "Please. Please, pretty please."

He was jumping around me like a little child trying to unsettle its parents. God, he could be a pain in the ass, with all those little fixations, games and joking around. I finally reached my hand out, trying to contain him.

"Yeah, fine." I paused, waiting for him to calm down, and biting my lips nervously. "Fine. I just wanted to see that bitch unhinged. What a nuisance," I finished off, a little too emotionally involved in the matter.

"You don't like Paola?"

What kind of question was it? Do you ask if it rains, when there is water pouring down on you from the sky? A blind man would see we were no good friends, her and me.

"I don't know, do YOU like her, Marcel?" I fired off, not thinking much.

Did I turn red, delivering the line? Was my expression funny? Were my hands trembling? He was looking at me a little shocked, yet all entertained. He shook his head in disbelief before throwing his arm around my shoulder and pulling me further in home's direction, ending our little halt.

"You really are quite something, Vic," He laughed, ruffling my hair. "You really are."

He left my question unanswered in the end, changing the subject when we neared the entrance gate. I didn't understand him and his saucy ways. He must have been into that girl, mustn't he? Why else would he react the way he did?

The thought of them together was making me sick. Laying in bed at night, my imagination was projecting crazy frames on the walls of my mind. In my head I was seeing these two slow-dancing under pale moonlight. His hands on her waist, her knee slipping between his legs, his fingers entwined with her hair, her tongue rushing into his mouth. Disgusting. I sat down and led my sight to the other end of the room. He was sleeping. Calm, relaxed, brown locks of his hair covering his forehead.

Why? Why must I have fallen so fast, so hard into a guy like him? We were complete opposites, night and day. He was so outgoing, wild, lively, doing whatever flashes his mind without any restraints. While I had to think everything through, deconstructing my emotions, searching for a way, and never going for it. It was already difficult as it was. And now this...

I somehow couldn't imagine he would really be interested in that girl. Did he really flirt with her there on the beach? He was flirting with everyone, after all. That charm was inextricably bound to his personality. If he truly wanted to spend time with her, why would he drag me to the party? What did he really think of me? Of her? I knew nothing, I understood nothing. And maybe there was nothing to understand.

"You really are quite something," I whispered to myself, lying on my side and observing Marcel's peaceful face. "You really are..."