Chapter Fifteen

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

“You’re joking,” I said on a laugh. “You really dressed like a baby and sucked your thumb for a college presentation?”

“It was to prove a point,” Theo said, gesturing to a shop on our right. It was a small boutique with dresses and swimsuits hanging in the window. “Let’s go in here.”

I followed him in. “I think the point is lost on me.”

“The code we were learning, the data structures…” Theo shook his head, sliding his hands in his pockets as we walked the walls of the shop. “It was all juvenile. Outdated. I mean, none of it would be useful in the real world. So, in lieu of doing an actual presentation on the bullshit he was teaching us, I thought I’d prove my point.”

I arched a brow. “You were a little shit, weren’t you?”

Theo’s eyes bulged. “Wow. I think that’s the first time I’ve heard you curse,” he said as I flushed, looking from him to a flowy, orange maxi dress. I let my fingers wander over the soft fabric as he continued. “But yes, I was,” he agreed with a grin. “To be fair, I dropped out the next day. So, it was kind of my fare-thee-well.”

“I’m sure they never forgot you at that school.”

“Oh, are you kidding? It’s Harvard. They were pissed I dropped out, and even more pissed that I made something of myself after dropping out. It was proof that no one needs that expensive piece of paper from them to accomplish what they want.” He shook his head. “College is archaic in more ways than it’s relevant, unless you’re in medicine, I suppose.”

“I don’t know,” I mused. “I enjoyed my time there.”

“But did you learn anything of value?”

I cocked my head. “I think so. I learned more about the craft, the rules, the theory of photography.”

“And let me ask you this,” Theo said, stepping into me. My breath caught in my chest at his proximity, at the way the little boutique suddenly shrank to the size of a shoebox. “Your best photographs… the ones that you’re most proud of… do any of those follow the rules ?”

I swallowed, looking up at him through my lashes. I couldn’t quite decipher why, but I liked when he looked down on me like that, when he towered over me, when his power and presence was all-consuming. “Some of them, yes.”

Theo narrowed his eyes like he didn’t believe me, but then he tilted his head with a knowing smirk. “Rules are made to be broken — haven’t you heard that old saying, Miss Dawn?”

Heat rushed over me, from where my hair fell over my shoulders all the way down to the leather straps of my sandals on my feet.

“You should try that on.”

I blinked at the subject change, taking a deep inhale when Theo stepped back, giving me space to breathe again. He nodded at the clementine maxi dress I hadn’t realized I’d still been touching.

“Oh…” I turned away from him, looking the dress up and down. The price tag was tucked away, nowhere to be found, which told me without even hunting for it that it was way too expensive for my measly travel budget. “No, that’s okay.”

But Theo reached his arm over my head, grabbing the dress from the rack. I turned back to him just in time to see him merely look at the young woman behind the counter. She jumped like he’d snapped his fingers, coming over immediately with a brilliant, toothy smile.

“Try this one, yes?” she asked, her English lilted with an Italian accent.

“ Sí, e quello, ” he said, pointing to an olive green one-piece swimsuit.

The woman grabbed the maxi dress from his hands, retrieving the swimsuit next before she followed him around the store. He walked slowly, appraising each item, his hand absentmindedly rubbing the scruff on his chin. Every now and then, he’d point, and the woman would scoop up the item he’d selected, draping it over her arms.

“Theo…”

“ Anche questo ,” he said, pointing to a pair of yellow sapphire stud earrings in a glass case on the back wall. “ Grazie .”

The woman nodded, and then she deposited the clothes into one of the dressing rooms, holding back the curtain with a smile aimed at me. “Earrings last,” she said simply.

I blinked at her first, and then at Theo before I looked back to the woman again.

“Please,” she said, gesturing inside the dressing room. “For you.”

I gave Theo a cautioning look, shaking my head. “I can’t… I don’t…”

“I want to see every single one of them,” he said. Then, with an air of confidence I’d only seen this man possess, he took a seat on the plush couch in the middle of the boutique, smiling at me as he crossed one ankle over the other and kicked back like he owned the place.

I let out an incredulous laugh. “Just who do you think you are?”

He shrugged, making an arrogant expression that suggested I already knew the answer to my own question.

And I had no choice. I shook my head on another laugh of disbelief, and then I let the salesclerk — Evelina — guide me into the dressing room. She smiled, pointing out each of the outfits she’d arranged, and then she closed the curtain behind her, leaving me alone.

I didn’t have to look at a price tag. I knew without hesitation that I was in a tiny dressing room with at least a couple thousand dollars’ worth of clothing. But curiosity got the best of me, and I took down the maxi dress first, fishing the price tag out of where it had been tucked into the back.

One-thousand five-hundred and ninety euros.

I blanched, nearly dropping the hanger from my hands. “Theo,” I said, pushing the curtain open to show him the price tag. “I can’t—”

But he just pointed at the dressing room with a grin, his brow arched in a way that told me I wasn’t getting out of this — no matter how I tried.

“Ugh, you’re incorrigible,” I groaned, snapping the curtain shut.

“You have no idea,” he mumbled in response.

I stripped off my tank top and shorts, kicking my sandals to the side before I slipped into the maxi dress. It was the kind of fabric I’d never had against my skin before, the kind that I had never been able to afford and never dreamed of affording, either. It was soft and luxuriously heavy, the way only quality fabric could be, hanging on my hips and bust in a way that made it look like I actually had a little curvature. I turned this way and that in the mirror, admiring the way the fruity orange looked against my tan skin, the way the thin straps accented my collarbones, the way the fabric flowed just below my knees before tapering down to the ground in the back, showing just a little of my legs.

I hated it.

I hated that it fit so perfectly, that the transparent top layer was so gorgeous and flowy against the slightly darker, heavier bottom one. I hated that the color set my tan ablaze, and that for the first time in my life, I was in a dress and I didn’t want to cower into a corner. I hated that the deep V cut of the back somehow made me love my spine and ribcage. How was that even a thing?

I hated it because I loved it.

And there was no way I could ever take it home with me.

I sighed, giving myself one last look over before I tentatively made my way through the curtains and into the boutique.

Evelina was talking to Theo in Italian, something that made them both chuckle, but when I walked out, their eyes snapped to me.

“ Bellisima! ” Evelina said on a gasp. She shook her head, advancing on me and tugging at the fabric in a few places before she snapped her fingers and scurried off toward the shoes.

My eyes found Theo next, and he was trailing his gaze up from where my bare legs showed through the bottom of the dress, up my thighs, along the lines of my hips and waist and bust until he met my eyes.

Fiery hot coals smoldered in his irises, his pupils dilating the longer he stared at me. He was still reclining on the couch, seemingly unaffected save for the swallow I watched strain his throat.

“Do you like it?” I asked on a whisper, absentmindedly playing with the strings that tied around the waist.

His nostrils flared, but before he could answer, Evelina rushed back over, thrusting a pair of beige wedges into my hands.

“With these,” she said, and then she pulled my hand into hers, opening my fingers and dropping the yellow sapphire earrings into my palm. “And these. Trust me,” she insisted, and before I could argue she was ushering me back into the dressing room. “It will be perfect.”

***

Against my persistent arguing, we left the boutique with me wearing the orange maxi dress and the earrings. Blessedly, I’d convinced Theo and Evelina that I couldn’t walk in the wedges, so they’d settled on a strappy pair of leather sandals that I loved as much as the dress. In the white paper bag that swung from my arm were the clothes I had been wearing, along with the olive one-piece swimsuit, which was the compromise I offered to keep Theo from buying me a five-thousand-euro Italian leather jacket.

I still couldn’t believe he’d bought all of it for me. I thought it would sink in as we walked the streets and hidden valleys of the town, or that I’d forget about it altogether as I got lost behind the lens of my camera. But I marveled at the way the silky-smooth dress felt against my skin every second, every minute, every hour of that day. And my fingers absentmindedly wandered up to tuck my hair behind my ear now and then, and every time, I’d brush the gemstones of those sapphire earrings and smile.

If I’d thought the places we’d hit on the coast so far had been gorgeous, they paled in comparison to the sights Positano offered.

My memory card filled with colorful shots of lemon tree farms and cobblestone streets, of the dozens and dozens of staircases around every corner, of clothes drying on a line strung from one pastel house to the other. I gasped at the sight of the water through small windows and alleyways, lost my breath at the way the ivy crawled the ancient walls of every building, and craned my neck in wonder as we walked down a street with flowers weaved together in a wondrous ceiling above us.

“Theo?” I asked as we both stared up at the floral ceiling, the soft hum of tourists buzzing around us.

“Yes?”

“Why did you name your boat Philautia ? What does it mean?”

Theo smiled a little when I glanced at him, but his eyes were still on the flowers above. “That’s an easy question with a complicated answer.”

I kept silent, waiting.

After a moment, Theo nodded toward an empty staircase nestled in an alleyway. There was a man there playing a violin, and Theo pulled a one-hundred euro note from his pocket, giving it to the man and whispering something in his ear. The man’s eyes bulged at the note first before he smiled and nodded at me politely, excusing himself and leaving us alone.

Theo took a seat on the third step, waiting until I sat next to him before he said, “Did you know there are seven different words for love in the Greek language?”

“Seven?” I asked, arching a brow. “Do you mean like how we have love and lust ?”

Theo shook his head. “Much more than that. I’m no expert, but the way I understood it when I first heard the story, it’s like… there are different levels of love. Different shades. For instance, you can love your mom, but not in the same way you love your favorite restaurant. And you can love your dog, wanting them to be safe and cared for, but it’s different from the way you might love a lover , with passion,” he said, and his eyes met mine then. “With desire.”

I swallowed.

“The Greeks have understood this for a long time, so they have different words for love, depending on what kind it is. Like Ludus, which is kind of like our version of having a crush on someone, flirty and fun. Or Eros , which is passionate and consuming, sexually driven,” he explained, smirking a little when my cheeks flushed. “The way a first love might be.”

I nodded, tucking my hair behind my ear and glancing at the tourists passing by just to catch a breath. After a moment, I looked back at Theo again. “So, what kind of love is Philautia then?”

Theo smiled. “Self-love.”

“Hmm,” I mused, frowning a little as I tried to piece together why he’d pick that one. “Well, are you going to tell me why you chose that as the name of your boat, or do I have to guess?”

He chuckled. “Well, what I loved about this word is that it encompasses more than just a lovely concept. Sure, part of it is self-love in the way we see it in the States.” He paused, folding his hands together where they rested between his knees. “Like, oh, it’s been a long work week, tonight I’ll run a hot bath and read a good book kind of love. But the other side of Philautia addresses the more selfish kind of loving yourself. Pleasure-seeking. Narcissism, if you will.”

I frowned. “So, you’re telling me you’re a narcissist, then?”

“Aren’t we all in some ways?” Theo asked. “If the answer to that is no, then, frankly, I think that needs to be addressed.”

“I’m not sure I understand.”

Theo sighed, watching the people pass for a moment before he elaborated. “I think it’s important to love yourself — even in the selfish way — because you’re the only person truly looking out for yourself. Even if someone cares about you, a friend or family member, at the end of the day?” He shook his head. “Their life goes on, regardless of how you choose to live yours.”

Theo paused, chewing the inside of his cheek for a moment.

“I think it’s important to put yourself first sometimes. Do what makes you happy. Say no when you don’t want to do something. Say yes to whatever you love, even if others don’t understand or support it. Choose yourself every now and then, because if you don’t, then who else will?”

I didn’t miss the way Theo’s eyes darkened with that question, the way his jaw tightened.

“I chose Philautia because that was a lesson I learned the hard way. For a long time, I put others before me no matter what. I would say no to advancements for Envizion because I knew my partner wouldn’t like them, or say yes to doing a publicity event because I knew my parents wanted me to. I would try to be whatever my current flavor of the month wanted me to be — sometimes that meant working out more than I cared to, or eating differently than I usually did, or indulging in pastimes I wasn’t actually fond of all in the name of making a woman happy.”

He shook his head, as if, just like I was currently thinking, he couldn’t believe he’d ever been that way. I couldn’t picture Theo as anything but powerful and steady as a rock in the face of anything, work or otherwise.

“And I was burned,” Theo continued. “Over and over, until I finally realized that though I had good intentions, I was losing myself in the name of serving others.”

Theo’s eyes met mine then, and my heart stopped in my chest at the intensity of his stare.

“I think you can understand that, can’t you?”

I nodded, little flashes of my own sacrifices playing out like a movie reel in my mind. “I can.”

Theo smiled a little, like he understood more than I let on. Then, he leaned back on his palms. “So, Philautia. A self-care gift to myself as well as a constant reminder that a seemingly selfish love for yourself can be a good thing, so long as the balance is there.” He looked at me then. “So long as you aren’t an asshole about it.”

I shook my head on a laugh. “I like it.”

“Why, thank you,” he said with a little bow. Then, he stood, reaching his hand out for mine to help me up. “Shall we?”

The rest of the day was spent exploring Positano through the lens of my camera.

We happened upon a wedding in the streets, and the bride and groom laughed and danced and posed for us while I clicked away. An older woman with ash-gray hair and deep wrinkles smoked a cigarette as she watered the flowerpots hanging outside her shop. A young boy whizzed by on a scooter, the wind in his hair, and he turned to smile at my camera just as he passed. Two nuns walked the streets in long, beige habits, handing out small cards with the Serenity prayer. I captured a shot I knew would be in my portfolio just as one of them extended a card toward me, her smile wide above it, eyes crinkled at the edges with a small alleyway lined with flowers stretching out behind her, and at its apex — the Tyrrhenian Sea.

I spoke with the locals who were open to me prying into their lives, holding up my camera and pointing at their shops, their homes, their restaurants. With each place we ventured, I found myself lost a little more in the culture, in this magical city on the seaside cliff. I grimaced when I tasted limoncello for the first time at the insistence of a loud and boisterous Italian man named Giovanni. I laughed at the little girl who played tricks on her uncle while he worked their leather shop on the street. And I blushed with a quiet thank you when an old man who spoke no English at all offered me a lapis lazuli necklace, the blue gemstone tied onto a simple, thin, brown leather strap.

And all the while, Theo walked alongside me in silence, watching me attempt to freeze-frame the world around us.

By the time the sun started to make its descent over the water, my legs ached from all the stairs we climbed, and I longed for a hot shower. But when I suggested we start to make our way back to the dock, Theo declined.

“I have one more stop, the place I said I wanted to show you.”

I laughed, gesturing to the sights around us. “You mean more than you already have?”

His smile was my only answer, and he led the way up a small winding road at the top of the town where we’d climbed.

I scurried to catch up. “Didn’t Wayland say he’d be at the dock before sunset?”

“I called him earlier and told him we’d need more time. Don’t worry,” he said with a smirk over his shoulder. “I’ll have you back before you turn into a pumpkin.”

I rolled my eyes, but before I could pop off a remark, Theo gently gripped my elbow.

He held me that way for a moment, still walking, and as we climbed the steep street, his hand slowly slid down lower. His palm was warm where it traced down the inside of my forearm, over the delicate bones of my wrist, and then he interlaced his fingers with mine, grabbing my hand tightly in his own.

I felt that squeeze like a naked plunge into the icy depths of the Arctic Ocean.

It was searing hot. It was burning cold. It was as numbing as it was electrifying, a battle of sensations that left me dizzy and weak in the knees.

“Is this okay?” he asked softly, his eyes finding mine.

I swallowed, staring at where our hands met, knowing my answer should have been an easy no, but not able to find the will to say the word.

Instead, my traitorous body responded with a slight nod of my head, and Theo smiled, holding my hand even tighter.

We climbed the street a little farther, and then Theo tugged me over to the edge of the sidewalk where a white metal railing lined the cliff. There was a bench under a tall tree, but he leaned us against the railing in lieu of sitting.

“May I see your camera,” he asked, and I felt the loss of his hand in mine like a lifejacket being ripped from the water just as I lost my last effort to swim.

I peeled the strap from around my neck, handing the camera to him, and he held the machine steady in his hands with his eyes dancing curiously between mine.

“Now, turn around.”

I did as he asked, and then I gasped, covering my lips with warm fingers that were just interlaced with Theo’s.

We were on the south side of the city, near the top of the cliff, and from this angle, Positano spread out before us like a red carpet of glittering lights. The sun had just set over the horizon, casting the sky in brilliant shades of orange and pink that played with the deeper hues of purple and navy as the night tried to creep in.

One by one, lights popped on over the city. Streetlights, porch lights, lights in windows high above the cliffside, and lights on boats that still littered the water below. The night came alive with a warm orange glow from that little seaside city, and it was the most beautiful sight I’d ever seen in my life.

I turned to face Theo again, and right when I did, he snapped a photo.

I knew without looking at it what would be reflected in that photo. I knew there would be wonder and adoration in my eyes, and I knew the sky would be painted brightly behind me, and I knew that the way Theo had positioned us under a streetlight, there would be a soft orange glow on my forehead and down the bridge of my nose.

I smirked, shaking my head and reaching for the camera. Theo obliged with his own grin, and when the camera strap was around my neck again, I rested my hands on it.

For a long moment I stared at that camera, then back behind me at the sunset over Positano, and then back at the camera. When I found the courage, I finally lifted my eyes to meet Theo’s.

“It’s breathtaking,” I whispered.

He nodded, swallowing. “As are you, Miss Dawn.”

I shook my head again just as he stepped closer, his hand reaching out for my cheek. I leaned into his warmth, and then closed my eyes on a wince as if the touch had scarred me for life.

Perhaps it had.

“Why do you say things like that to me?”

“Because they’re true,” he answered with a cock of his head, as if the answer was obvious.

“But… I’m just…” I shook my head, looking down at myself. “Me. Just a girl from Colorado with a camera in her hand. And you…”

Theo frowned when my gaze met his, and he thumbed my jaw line, rolling his lips together before he whispered, “And I can’t get enough of you.”

My next breath shuddered out of me, and Theo’s hand swept back into my hair, gripping the back of my neck just slightly. He pulled me in, and my eyelids fluttered shut as I pressed onto my tip toes. I leaned into that touch like a moth to a flame, and when his heat came nearer, when I felt his breath on my lips, I wished with everything that I was for his lips to meet mine.

But inside, my stomach lurched in warning, and my body jerked back with the force.

“Uh,” I said, shaking my head when I’d pulled away. I tucked my hair behind my ear, glancing up at Theo’s confusion through my lashes. “We should probably get back to the boat.”

For a long moment, Theo just watched me, a million indecipherable emotions surging in his eyes. I watched the muscles of his jaw tick, watched the way he slid his hands into his pockets as if that was the only way to keep them from reaching out for me. He let out a long, slow, and steady exhale, and then a small smile found his lips. “Lead the way,” he said, gesturing toward the path that led down to the beach.

So I turned, and held my camera between my hands, snapping a few last photos as we made our descent.

Theo didn’t try to hold my hand on the walk back.

And later that night, when Joel was fast asleep next to me, I stared at the photo Theo had taken of me at the top of Positano and wondered who that girl in the photo was. She looked fresh and young and vibrant. She looked beautiful and luxurious and confident. She looked just seconds away from a laugh, just minutes away from a kiss. She looked aglow, like only a woman newly in love can.

She looked like no one I recognized.

And everything I ever wanted to be.