Last Request

'Hey, Paolo!' A high voice shrilled. It stung my ears. 'Paolo! Who's this?' the voice accused rather than asked as it approached.

'This is Elizabeth,' Paolo sighed. At least, I think he sighed.

'I'm Britney,' the voice-turned-girl stated. Very loudly. The disinterest was blatant in her voice. She smiled at me, but it seemed more like she was baring her teeth. She turned back to Paolo before I could reply.

'I'm going outside for a smoke. Come on,' she whined, pulling on his hand. She was clearly excluding me, her back turned.

'No, I'm okay. I'd like to talk to Elizabeth.'

'Fine!' she replied, not bothering to say goodbye to me as she walked towards the door, swinging her hips exaggeratedly. Smoking was forbidden inside.

He watched the back of her head as she left, his eyes flashing back to mine as the door closed.

'Hey, you wanna get out of here?'

'But Britney...' My eyes darted to the door she had exited through, even though I really couldn't care less about her. She would aggravate me, I could tell.

He smiled and reached into his pocket, pulling out something small and silver and placing it to his ear.

'Hey. Yeah. Yeah, I know. No- I'm quite tired. I feel a bit off... I'll- no... I'll talk to you tomorrow. Bye Britney.' He closed over the phone.

He turned back to me.

'Sorry you're feeling unwell... Do you want me to call you a taxi? I have to go anyway, we could-' I asked.

'You know, I'm feeling a lot better. But if you want, we could share one anyway...'

Ten minutes later and we were just hopping in the cab. We had been talking, I asked him about his music, and where he got his inspiration from. Every time he asked me a question about myself I shrugged it off,

I was silent the whole time, but Paolo, of course, knew the driver. This town is so small, no wonder he was surprised he didn't know me.

When we arrived at Paolo's he invited me in, insisting on paying the fare.

'I had really nice time tonight. I just don't really want it to end. I feel like I don't know you at all,' he said softly, turning to look at me as the door swung open.

That's because you don't. And you never will.

'Me neither,' I whispered back. I don't know myself.

Suddenly his hands were warm on my face, pulling me closer to him. Our mouths connected, and months of waiting controlled my lips.

'Paolo...' His hands were running through my hair, down my sides and resting at my waist.

I pulled his shirt by the collar, and suddenly we were inside his apartment, pushed up against his wall.

He turned my face to one side gently, kissing along my collarbone.

In just one second, the whole situation changed. Paolo didn't seem so interested in me anymore. I felt exposed, he had seen something of me I didn't want anyone to see. He was kissing me when, for once, I didn't want to feel his lips on skin.

'Paolo...' He moaned against my throat, sending shivers pulsing through me. The wrong kind of shivers. 'Stop. Please.' And, like the gentleman he is, he stopped.

'I... Did I do something wrong?' His soft voice somehow managed to twist his accent into a sweet exotic tongue. He pulled back, keeping his hands on my shoulders. I was still against the wall. I didn't turn my head back to face him.

'No. Nothing at all. I'm- I'm just not ready for this kind of commitment...'

I could see that his face fell, but I didn't turn to get a better look. I wanted to kick myself for doing this. This is ruining my life. I have to let people in eventually.

'I understand.' His words were careful, but sincere. It made me love him even more. But still something told me not to trust him. Like an outside voice was controlling my actions. It told me all the things I didn't want to hear.

It told me facts, then asked questions to make me doubt him. The words contrasted with his angelic face.

He liked you too fast. He doesn't know anything about you. He's anxious, that's not good. Why? Who was that girl at the bar? Is this a one night stand? How drunk is he? How drunk are you?

This tactless voice couldn't be mine.

I felt like I was going crazy. Was I? I couldn't tell, not anymore. So I ran. An alcohol induced stumble, but running nevertheless. I remembered someone calling me, and tripping up. Then nothing.

The next day I woke up in my own bed, confused and dazed. But by the time I went back to the bar that night everything was crystal clear.

And just like the night before he sat down a seat away from me and ordered a drink, like nothing had happened.

'I'm sorry,' I said softly, but I knew he could hear.

'You have nothing to be sorry about.' I knew he was talking to me, but he could have been speaking with his shoes. 'And I pressured you into it. I'm sorry.'

'No, I led you on. I didn't intend to, and I apoligise too.'

'So we're both sorry. That makes us even, right?'

'I guess so...'

'Then let's start fresh.' He stuck out his hand. 'My name is Paolo.'

'My name is Elizabeth,' I replied, taking his warm hand and instantly remembering how it felt against my cheek.

Fresh. Willing my brain to forget all of last night's memories, his hand now seemed nonchalant, an insignificant part of the procedure. All that mattered was that he was smiling. Smiling at me.

I smiled widely back at him.

'But my friends call me Effy.'