Roman Valentine

by JessicaBrennan

A/U-Tris Eaton is taking a vacation in Rome and runs into someone from her past. To celebrate Valentine's week 2019.

(A/N-Special thanks to Lynn for beta reading this. Day 2 of Valentine's Week 2019.)

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Mark Twain once said 'The two most important days in your life are the day you are born and the day you find out why.'

That was true, but there was also another day that was seared in Tris Prior's brain.

May 29, 2010.

The worst date in the history of the universe.

That was the night she and Tobias Eaton had kissed for the first time. It was also the night when she had lost all faith in the half of the human population with testicles, hardened her fragile heart to stone, and decided that love was weakness.

Men sucked!

Especially the devilishly hot ones with eyes that can power small cities with a smoldering gaze. The ones with sexy smiles and amazing physiques, with senses of humor and just enough kindness to convince you that they would never hurt you. The men who seem oh-so-trustworthy, at least until they don't.

Tobias Eaton was just such a creature.

As far as she knew, he still was.

That evening in May 2010, Tris had headed out to what was being called the Party To End All Parties, the great bonfire on the beach that would kick off the last summer of her college years. Everybody who was anybody was going to be there: the major fraternities, the minor ones. The sororities. The nerds, the jocks, the intellectuals, the all-around wizards of academia. Literally every human from their graduating class was invited. This party's population was a massive slew of semi-drunk to very-drunk attendees from all walks of student life. So naturally, the college football team would also be there.

As would its star quarterback, who happened to be the boy she'd adored from afar for years, ever since she was a sophomore at Dauntless High. It was in the hallowed halls of their high school that he'd first said hello to her one day, lighting her innocent, stupid heart on fire.

Tobias Eaton had the complete package: looks, charm, kindness, brains, abs of steel, and the ability to turn her into a quivering bowl of jelly every time he spoke to her. They'd been friends since those high school days, which really only means that they occasionally ran in the same circles. It wasn't as though they braided each other's hair or confided in each other about their love lives. At most, they sometimes chatted about this or that professor or an upcoming exam.

The problem was, of course, that before they could ever get to anything good, their conversations were always interrupted by some girlfriend or other who was invariably lurking in the background, waiting for him to take her home. A god like Tobias was never single. He was worshiped and adored by every female who knew him. As long as she knew that Tobias occupied the same square mile as she did, it was impossible to bring herself to offer love to someone else, when she knew her heart belonged to Tobias. When she had kissed another boy, she had fantasized about him.

But on that fateful night in late May, things were about to unwind at last. She'd heard from friends that Tobias was going to be there. Which meant that there was a one in a million chance that she'd finally get to be with him. Apparently, those odds were sufficient to get her to drag her ass to the party, reluctant though she was to attend such a gathering on her own.

She had been hopeful, wide-eyed and idealistic. And the evening couldn't possibly have started better. The first person she saw was Tobias, standing by the fire, talking to one of his football player buddies. Eric. The two of them weren't all that different looking from a distance. He wasn't nearly as handsome, of course. No one was.

Tobias looked so good, his dark hair and lean, muscular frame standing out against the growing darkness. A walking, talking, breathing glass of something smooth, sexy and oh, so drinkable. His blue eyes could have captured any woman's heart or soothed the most raging soul. He was wearing his quarterback jersey, the number four highlighted in bold yellow digits on its back and front.

She walked towards him, not sure exactly what she was doing. Her plan was to say an awkward hello then spend the rest of the night drooling from a healthy distance, as she'd done for the last several years. Little did she dare to hope that they could actually wind up naked together; She wasn't exactly a seasoned seducer of men at that point in her life.

"Tris!" He had called her name and waved Eric off, he jogged her way, a wide grin spreading across his lips. Her heart leapt, both as a thanks for rescuing her from the potential of awkward solitude and because, let's face it, she wanted to rip his jersey off and bury her face in his pecs.

"Hey, Tobias," She replied, or at least she thought she did. She was already drooling, her tongue swelling three sizes as she took in the sight of his gorgeous face. All she remembered was hoping he couldn't hear the crazy disco beat that her heart was pounding against her chest. "How's it going?"

"Great, now that you're here," he said, laying a hand on her lower back like he was taking immediate ownership of her. Another moment she'd never forget. Who knew that a woman's back could become an erogenous zone in the blink of an eye? "Listen," he said, "you want a beer?"

Oh my God. The hottest man in the world, was asking her if she wanted a drink. With him. Of course she said yes. She wouldn't have said no to anything that guy offered her. She was young, stupid and horny, a trifecta that easily canceled out all reasonable brain function.

Tobias ran off and came back with two red cups in hand before escorting her to a nearby log, where they sat down to talk. She didn't know how any of that beer made it into her mouth, to be honest. She was shaking like a nervous leaf on crack the entire time, unsure of what to do. She was the dog who'd finally caught the car. What the hell do you do with a man like Tobias when you finally have him to yourself?

Thankfully, he answered the question for her. After half an hour, every fantasy she'd ever had begun to came true. They chatted about everything from their hopes for their future careers to their dreams about traveling. Things were going great.

And then they got even better.

"Do you want to go for a walk along the beach?" he asked. She nodded her head. God yes. A beach walk could only end one way, right? Sex. Sex. Sex. Please, God, let there be so much sex, she silently prayed.

When they were far enough away from the bonfire and the rowdy, drunken crowd, the man of her dreams made his move. He stopped, turned to her and leaned in slowly, touching his lips to hers tentatively, like he wasn't totally sure he was welcome. His tongue searched hers out, and when he found it, she thought she would die of happiness.

"Wait here," he said abruptly when the kiss had ended. She could see desire flashing in his eyes; She was so sure that she wasn't imagining it. He had to know how much she wanted him, too. With another quick peck on the lips, he was off like a lightning bolt, dashing towards the bonfire.

Oh, yes, yes, yes, she thought, her lips tingling as she danced around on her tiptoes, victorious at last. Sex on the beach wasn't just a cocktail anymore. Her heart fluttered in her chest as she realized that it was really happening; she was going to make love with the man who held her heart. Yup. Just as soon as he came back it would all begin.

But the thing was, he never came back.

She had waited for what felt like half an hour, her heart going from happy to panicked with each second that passed. To be fair, he may have been gone for no more than ten minutes. The bonfire couldn't have been more than a couple of minutes away, so she started heading back to see if Tobias might be having some kind of problem. Maybe someone had grabbed him and started a conversation that he couldn't get out of.

When she got to the fire, she could see the orange glow reflected on the animated, happy faces that surrounded it. She wandered among party-goers, searching for the one face she wanted to see, frantically looking around for the blond god with the big bold twenty-three on his back.

When she didn't find him, her eyes steered themselves towards the darkened parking lot in the distance. Yes, he had to be there. Maybe he was still at the car, hunting for that elusive blanket. There was still hope.

She'd never forget the moment when she finally spotted him. He was also on his way to the parking lot. Walking away from her towards his car, that damned number four moving along under a head of thick, hair. He was with a woman. No, not just a woman. It was Nita, an ex of his. Though she didn't look much like an ex in that moment.

Apparently Mr. Sexy Quarterback was walking her to his car, her body wrapped up tight under the protection of his muscular right arm. It seemed that he'd forgotten about her existence. He'd left her on the beach alone without thinking twice.

For some reason, she watched as they all but disappeared into the darkness of the sand-covered parking lot. When they stopped at Tobias' car, his back was still facing towards her, almost like he was shunning her deliberately. That moment, it turned out, was a foreshadowing of their entire future. Never again would she look upon his face. Her last sighting of him would be of his back, that evil number four mocking her, a grim reminder of how little he thought of her.

After Nita kissed him on the neck, giggling, he politely held open the passenger door for her. Her eyes blurring over with hot tears, she watched his silhouetted form walk around to the driver's side, hop into the car and drive them both away.

That's when she turned and ran.

That night she gave up on two things: Tobias and Love.

***PAGEBREAK***

Sunday July 30 2017

Tris had just arrived in the Eternal City. She'd heard more times than she could count that Rome was the most beautiful place on earth, and right now she would have to agree. She can't help but chuckle to herself as her driver is throwing out curse after Italian curse at the traffic, even as he makes illegal turns, swerves in front of oncoming cars and wreaks general havoc on her nervous system.

While she's here in Rome, she's going to eat, walk the streets, eat some more, drink, stare at handsome men and then probably eat again. At some point she might even throw caution to the wind and have sex with a stranger. That is, if she can find a stranger who doesn't smell like an overheated garbage can. So far she's batting zero on that front.

After weaving his way through the maze of city towards the pretty area known as Trastevere, her pungent driver finally pulls to a stop next to a tiny little car that apparently offends him by virtue of its very existence. He's growling at it, some deep resentment setting his face into a horrible scowl.

Her head spinning with relief, she pushes out a long exhale, pops open the door, slides out of the back seat and steps onto the dark grey cobblestones that make up the narrow street.

"Ecco undici," the driver grunts, pointing to the number on the building next to them as he slips out his side and raises a fist at a vespa driver who's just come perilously close to castrating him with his side mirror.

"Grazie," Tris replies, mustering a nauseated smile.

He dumps her luggage on the street and, after she's handed him a wad of euros, motors off, leaving her alone, baffled and confused. She has no idea what she's supposed to do now. But it doesn't matter. She's here to have an adventure, and apparently locating her temporary home is Part Two. This bit seems less dangerous than the drive, at least.

Opening up the screenshot she took of the agency's directions, she's reminded that Katherine, the woman in charge of getting her here, told her to head to number thirteen to get the key. Exhausted from too much time spent in transit, she slings her pack onto her back, wheels her giant suitcase over to the next building, and press the buzzer.

"Pronto!" a voice says through the intercom. Pronto? Shit. She has no idea what that means. She hopes someone here speaks English, because her Italian is limited to gelato, spaghetti, mamma mia and a pile of cab-driver curses that probably mean I'm going to have sex with your goat, you bastard.

"Uh…my name is Tris Prior," she says, pressing her face towards the speaker. "I'm here for the keys to unit two-oh-three."

"Ah, si, si!" says the voice. A moment later a very wrinkled, very short woman is popping out the door with a set of two keys in hand. She's all dressed in black, her face both stern and friendly at once. The lines on her skin tells her that she's experienced every emotion known to humankind over the course of her long life. Her face is a topographical map of her history of love, sadness, happiness, laughter and probably a little gas, from the looks of things. Her hair is pulled back under some sort of dark scarf, and she looks like she stepped right out of 1950.

Tris already loves her. She wants to ask her to make her a home-cooked Italian meal that involves a lot of tomatoes and oregano. Her expression turns judgmental as she hands Tris the keys, looks her up and down, eyes her luggage, then unceremoniously turns away to call to someone hidden in the depths of her dark flat.

"Giancarlo! Vieni qui! Vieni, vieni!"

Tris' face lights up when almost immediately the most gorgeous, olive-skinned, dark haired, blue eyed, perfect Italian man is standing in front of her with a crooked smile on his face. His hair is curly and a little unkempt, his eyelashes dark, outlining bright eyes. His lips are full and a little pouty. She's pretty sure he doesn't speak a word of English, but damn, who the hell cares? Maybe he could teach her the language of love.

"Vai! Vai!" Shrieks the old lady, and without a word Giancarlo, brawny and submissive Italian god, grabs her suitcase. The thing weighs more than she does, but he carries it like it's a tote bag full of feathers and guides her towards the iron gate that leads into the building next door.

"Keys," he says, turning and grunting the word like Tarzan as he extends a hand towards her. Hmm. If he were Tarzan, he'd take off his shirt. He should totally do that.

As they make eye contact, his expression softens. A sexy, seductive smile spreads across his lips again. Okay, for a young, innocent man-boy, he sure knows how to make a woman's panties melt with nothing more than his eyes. For a moment she's totally forgotten what he wanted or even where she was.

Oh, right. Keys.

When she's handed them to him, he unlocks the gate and guides her down a long stone passageway that ends in two sets of stairs; one leading to the left, the other to the right. She follows him up the stairs to the right, marveling at the antiquity of this place. The walls are made of plaster, the stairs marble, worn down to sloping centers from hundreds of years of tired feet. Her mind can't help but envision the hundreds—no—thousands of people who've walked up and down these steps over the centuries. Women in corsets, men who've just slipped off their horses. Children who've long since grown up and darted away on romantic adventures.

History whispers to her from the walls. Sigh. She loves this place already. She could live on pasta and Italian coffee and luxuriate on a brass-framed bed all day while she moans about the heat. Giancarlo can be her lover and/or fetcher of cold beverages and/or loin cloth-wearing servant man who fans her with a palm frond.

When they reach the second floor, the young buck unlocks unit 406 for her and hands her back the keys before carrying the suitcase inside and setting it down next to the open door. Turning to smile at her again (oh God, that smile is the nectar of the gods), he speaks, this time in a full sentence.

"What is your name?" he asks, throwing a couple of extra vowels in, as if to prove just how sexy his accent is.

"Tris,"

"La bella Tris."

"Si," She replies before realizing that bella means pretty. "This apartment is lovely," she blurts out, trying to mask her embarrassment.

"Si, si," he repeats. "My family owns it. I hope you like."

"I like it very much."

He edges towards her, the scent of some very powerful cologne hitting her nose. She guesses strong scents are a thing in Italy. At least he's not wearing Eau de Trash Can, like a certain taxi driver she knows. "Tris, would you like to have dinner with me some night?"

Wow. That was forward. And a little weird. She's pretty sure Giancarlo and her have exactly zero in common, aside from the fact that they're two horny adults. At least, she's an adult. He could be fresh off the puberty boat, for all she knew.

"I…yes, maybe. I mean, I'm not sure," she stammers, her eyes moving to everything but him. When they finally focus on his face, that smile, that body of his, leaning towards her, she blurts out, "Yes. Dinner would be great."

"Molto bene. But not tonight," he says. "I am working." Oh, thank God you're old enough to have a job. "But I will come see you soon, and I will eat you out."

She stifles a snort. "Do you mean take me out to eat?" she asks, a little too amused at his highly suggestive choice of words.

"Si, si. Take you out. Sorry, my English…" He throws her another smile, which sets her insides on fire.

"It's okay," she murmurs.

He leaves without uttering another word. She heads back out to the living room. Katherine, the goddess in charge of the travel agency, did tell her during one of their chats that the apartment was exceptional, and she wasn't lying. It's all arches and exquisite lines, its windows looking out towards a beautiful, vine-coated courtyard. Like a crazy person in heaven she goes over to push open a tall, hinged set of windows, her heart soaring with pleasure as she stares around the amazing space. She's discovered a hidden treasure at Rome's heart.

This is her home for a month. A gorgeous young man has just asked her out. What could be more perfect?

The only downside is that the courtyard is, of course, surrounded by the windows of other apartments. A long balcony wraps around this entire story, stretching its way to each and every one of the other flats. Any one of their residents could wander by her place at any moment, which is a bit unfortunate. But it also means that she can walk out and take in the beautiful courtyard any time she wishes.

She's about to turn away from the window when something in the apartment across from her grabs her attention. The windows over there, like her, are wide open, and someone—a man—is wandering about his living room, his back to her. He's wearing nothing but a pair of khaki shorts that sit low on his hips, showing off a tapered waist and an ass to rival Giancarlo's. His back is taut, muscular and has tattoos over it.

She's beginning to think there's something wrong with her. First Giancarlo, and now this. Rome has reawakened dormant hormones in her, reminded her that she's a single woman at her sexual peak.

She's still staring at the hottie with the perfect physique, curious to see the face that matches that body. Please, hot man, show me your features. And please be single. And please be over twenty-one.

As though he's heard her silent plea, the sexy creature pivots to his left and leans down to grab something off the coffee table before pulling himself up to turn in her direction. her gaze slides up his torso, taking stock of his sinewy muscles. Wow. He's beautiful His front is definitely as good as his back.

Nice abs.

Nice pecs.

Nice…face.

Oh, my God.

She spins back around, hoping he hasn't recognized her, and reaches for the curtains to wrench them shut. The whole time she's mumbling Please tell me he didn't recognize me. Please, please, please.

Hesitant, she waits a few seconds before pulling the curtain open a crack to peer across the way once again.

Big mistake.

He's still staring. He totally recognized her; she knows he did. She can feel it in the air between them. He's pulling on a t-shirt now and still looking this way, his expression inquisitive, searching. Damn it, why did she look at him for so long? Why did she let him see her? Why didn't she dive behind the couch or throw herself off the balcony like any sane person would have done? She's officially screwed. Her month-long vacation is screwed. Her head is screwed.

Her heart, especially, is screwed.

Tobias Eaton is in Rome. And he's staring at her.

Holy shit.

***PAGEBREAK***

Tris Prior is standing fifty feet away from him.

Okay, maybe standing is the wrong word. From what he can gather, she's doing some sort of crouch-squat combo as she attempts to conceal herself behind a very thin set of curtains. Peeking out like a timid mouse looking for cheese in a room full of cats, those amazing eyes of hers staring at him for the first time in years. Sweet, innocent, full-lipped, amazing kisser, curvaceous beauty.

Newsflash, Tris: I can see the entire outline of your gorgeous body. You're not fooling anybody.

You are, however, reminding me how damn sexy and unobtainable you always were.

He's torn up inside looking at her like this, unsure of whether he should walk over and yell at her for disappearing on him that night so long ago or kiss her full on the lips. To this day he can still remember how amazing it felt when their lips met that night on the beach. How badly he wanted her.

He still doesn't know why she left like she did. All he really knows is how shitty it felt to lose her before he'd ever had her. Well, here they are, seven years later. He's still staring at her in wonder, and she's still peering out at him like a frightened deer hiding in the woods. He'd be willing to bet that those big grey eyes of hers have grown two sizes out of pure shock. He guesses he can't blame her for it. He's pretty shocked, too.

But he's also aroused now.

That's right. His stupid, disloyal body's betraying him. Apparently, his cock doesn't believe in holding a grudge. The unruly beast between his legs has started doing its happy dance in his shorts. As if she can hear his thoughts, she's just closed the curtains again, shutting herself off from him, just as she did so long ago.

Well, guess what, Tris? I'm not the stupid kid that I once was. I'm not going to let you run away again. Not without a fight, or at least a little maturity. Fuck it, He's going to do what he should have done when he was twenty-one and she disappeared on him. He's going to go over and talk to her, whether she likes it or not.

Determined, he pulls the French doors open and steps out onto the balcony to wander along the stone balustrade towards her door. When he's arrived, he knocks and waits, his heart pounding like it only ever does after an intense cardio workout. He's reverted to a young, optimistic football-playing college kid all over again. You'd hardly know that he'd grown up, been through relationships and breakups, started his own company, traveled the world.

"I know you're in there, Tris," He says in a deep voice, resolving not to let her play hide and seek with him. No more games. This reunion is long overdue.

Finally, she surrenders and pulls the door open, revealing herself fully for the first time, silhouetted by the soft light coming from the apartment behind her. A blue skirt and cotton tank top adorn her perfect body, her hair trailing loose over her sun-kissed shoulders. She's the essence of feminine perfection.

Except for the look on her face that tells him she's about as happy to see him as a squirrel is to see a bald eagle swooping down to grab it in its talons and devour it

"Hi, Tobias," she mouths after what feels like a minute of awkward silence. Her eyes pull away from his to look him up and down, like she's trying to figure out if he's anything more than a horrifying hologram.

Tris was always an enigma. A quiet, big-eyed mystery wrapped in a body that begged for his touch, or tongue, or both. She was confusing back in school just as she is now, looking up at him with those beautiful almond-shaped eyes. She looks so lost, just like she did then, yet so much more like a woman. Her body has filled out in all the best possible ways, her breasts outlined in the little top she's wearing, which dips down just enough so that a luscious line of cleavage is calling out to him.

She keeps shifting her weight from one foot to the other, her hips mesmerizing. He always loved the way she moved, like a sexy cat slipping around stealthily among crowds, trying not to make her presence known. Apparently that hasn't changed.

"How are you?" Tobias asks, trying his warmest smile to see if he can possibly relax her just a little.

"Fine," she says. "Well, tired. I flew all night, so I'm pretty jet lagged. But what are you…why are you…?" She gestures towards his apartment across the way as if to say You don't belong there. This was supposed to be my place, you bastard.

"I'm living in Rome for several months," he tells her. "Working with an architecture firm here, doing some research for a project." He spins around and points to his flat. "That's home for now."

"Oh, that's right, you studied architecture in college. I'd almost forgotten," she half mutters, as though she doesn't want to recall anything from that time.

"And you? What are you doing here?"

"Vacation," she says, though the word comes out like something that's repulsive rather than exciting. She may as well have told him she's serving a prison sentence with a cell mate who collects discarded fingernails and rat carcasses. "For a month."

"You don't say?" He raises an eyebrow. Well, well. Things just got interesting. "Are you here alone?"

No, of course she isn't. What woman travels to Rome alone for a month? She must have a guy with her. That's fine. A guy is fine. He's not jealous at all.

"I…" she glances around like she's looking for an escape route. She's probably trying to figure out if she should make something up to cover for herself and keep him the hell away from her. "Yes, alone for now. Though I've met someone here."

"Wow, you work fast," he chuckles. "I thought you said you just arrived." He's watching her, trying to sort out if she's feeding him a line of bullshit. Is she worried that he's going to demand that she go on a date with him to make up for giving him the shaft seven years back?

"Yes. An Italian man," she says. "His name is Giancarlo." She's trying to smile as she says his name but failing miserably. Clearly Giancarlo is not the man of her dreams. "He invited me to dinner, and I said yes. Not tonight, but…soon."

The answer is detailed enough that he thinks maybe she's telling him the truth after all. Damn it. He hopes a piano falls on Giancarlo.

"That's good," he says. "I'm happy for you." Truth: He's totally not happy for her at all. And he's definitely not happy for Giancarlo, that lucky fuck. That is, if he actually exists. "Listen, I'll let you get unpacked," he adds, eyeing the large suitcase that's sitting at the far end of the room. "Do you want me to move that to the bedroom?" he asks, taking a step towards it.

"No!" she all but shouts at him, her voice desperate.

"Whoa," he laughs, raising his hands in surrender. "I didn't realize you were stashing a dead body in your luggage. I'll stay away then, shall I?"

"I…it's just heavy," she says.

He flexes his arms, displaying his biceps. Cheap move, he knows, but he's okay with being a manipulative prick for a second. "I think I can handle it."

"Right, of course you can. But I don't need help," she mumbles miserably. It seems that his muscles have made things even worse. He steps back onto the balcony, ready to make himself scarce before he ruins her life entirely and turns to face her. The thing, is, they still haven't talked. Not really. "Listen, we should go out and catch up at some point, yeah?"

She nods, her eyes fixed on the floor.

"Actually," he adds, "I'm heading out right now to grab a coffee. Do you want to come?"

"No," she blurts out almost before he's finished the question. Her eyes meet his, all but pleading with him. A barrage of rejection bullets shoot through the air between them, and most of them hit him square in the chest. Message received. Also possible internal bleeding.

"Wow. Okay, I can take all the hints," he says, smiling to hide his slightly injured pride. "Sorry if the invitation came off as aggressive." he props his arms against the door frame and leans forward. "I don't mean to seem like I'm putting the moves on Giancarlo's woman."

"I'm not his….I mean, it's fine," she says, her eyes moving to the floor again as she shuffles her feet. "I just can't, not right now."

For a moment he just stares at her, admiring every line of her face as she avoids looking into his eyes. God, she looks good, if tense as all hell. "You're in Rome. Anything goes here. You should unwind, have fun. I'll come find you tomorrow when I get home from work and take you out, okay?"

Another nod. "Yeah, okay," she says, managing the least convincing smile ever as she pulls her eyes up to meet his.

It may be his imagination, but she looks like she wants to ask him something. There's plenty he'd like to ask her, too. He wants to know what's going on in that amazing head of hers after all this time.

He wants to know if she has any idea how much he'd like to kiss her again.

Tobias went back to his apartment and away from her. Gorgeous, perfect, infuriating, frustrating, sexy Tobias, whose abs and biceps she wants to lick, even though he once crushed her like a wilted flower. Her knees are still shaking. She feels like she's going to throw up. Her heart's pounding. All because of a guy she's not supposed to give a fuck about.

Over the years, she's told herself more times than she can count that she's over him, but it's become clear in the last few minutes that she never really succeeded at pushing him out of her heart. Maybe it's because he was the first and only man she ever loved.

Tobias was so friendly, so casual just now. Not at all like a guy who crushed her soul seven years ago. Could he possibly have forgotten what happened that night? The very thought that he must have cared so little makes her want to shed bitter tears and throw things at the wall. Of course, she's not going to, because she's not an immature idiot like she was in college. She's not innocent or naive or stupid. She's a grown-ass woman who knows how to handle herself.

Right. This is her place now. Her damned holiday. No one is going to ruin this for her, not even a sexy man with a perfect smile, perfect ass, perfect abs and perfect everything else. There's definitely no way she's going to let herself fantasize about how good he probably is in bed by now, after seven years of post-college experience. How amazing his tongue probably is at caressing a woman's sex. What it feels like to have his hips gyrating over hers as he thrusts his massive…

STOP IT, TRIS.

Stop thinking about the past. Tobias is old news. Just because he's hot as hell and his smile makes you want to jump him doesn't mean anything.

Her phone rings and she quickly answers it. "Hello Christina."

"How is Italy? Have you met any gorgeous men yet?" Christina asked.

"I have actually. I'm actually going out with one this week." Tris answers.

"Wow. I'm impressed." Christina said.

"Yeah." Tris said.

"Are you alright? You don't sound excited." Christina said.

"I am thrilled being here. It's just I ran into someone here." Tris said.

"Who?" Christina asks.

"You remember Tobias Eaton from college?" Tris asks.

"Oh my. Are you alright?" Christina asks.

"I think so." Tris answers.

"Tell me," she says, "Is he still single?"

"I don't know. Maybe. Does it matter?"

"You tell me."

"It would be better if he's not, actually. Easier for me."

"Ah, but if he is, you may rekindle something that only ever sparked but never grew into an all-out flame. Maybe fate has brought you to Rome for a very good reason." Christina tells her.

"I'm not sure I believe in fate," Tris admits.

"Well, if you don't believe in fate, I hope you at least believe in fucking."

"That was very…explicit," Tris choke-laughs.

"Come on," she says. "You know you've at least considered fucking him."

"Well, yeah. He's unbelievable."

"So open yourself up to the possibility that you can and should get naked with him. Sexy men aren't as common as all that. And sex is very, very nice, particularly on hot Roman nights. Think of it as a long-overdue rebound romp with a man who probably wants you for all the same reasons you want him."

"I don't know, Christina. I think maybe I should look elsewhere to satisfy my sexual cravings." Her mind wanders over to young Giancarlo, who's all charm and looks, and little else. He's safe, probably a little boring, definitely hot, and best of all, there's little to no chance of her falling in love with him.

"Maybe he's grown up a little since then. We all have since those college days. We can't always be the person we were then." Christina reminds her.

"I don't know." Tris said.

"Whatever you do, just be sure to enjoy yourself," Christina tells her. They say goodbyes and Tris goes to finish unpacking.

***PAGEBREAK***

Tobias' still got a big grin on his face as he strides down to his local café. It was pretty weird to see Tris, but it was good, too. She's still beautiful, sexy, and confusing as all hell. Just knowing that she'll be here for a month is enough to revive his excitement about being in Rome, which has been waning recently. He doesn't know if there's any chance for them. He doesn't know if this Giancarlo guy is anything serious. All he knows is that he's not letting her slip through his fingers again, not if he can help it.

"Ciao, Tobias!"

His smile only widens as his vision adjusts to the slightly dark indoor space around him. As he looks around, he sees his friend Marco advancing towards him from a far corner. He works with him at the architecture firm, and he's also the guy who found him his apartment. Simply put, he's been about his best friend in Rome for the past five months.

"Ciao, Marco," he says as he wanders over and slaps him on the back. Italian men are big on touching, which is something it took him a while to get used to when he first arrived. Men kiss each other on the cheek or hug without thinking twice about it. They don't have the hangups that males tend to have back home.

"How's everything?" he asks. His English has always been very good. Well, aside from the fact that he tends to mix up his expressions on occasion, which cracks him up. Of course, even with his frequent screw-ups, he's got to say his English is way better than Tobias' Italian.

"Everything is…insane, to be honest," Tobias laughs. "Like really insane."

"Insane?" he raises a dark eyebrow at him. He can tell that he's trying to read his expression and failing. "What's going on?"

"One sec," Tobias says, looking over at the barista to give him a quick nod. He knows that the signal means the usual: an iced coffee americano in a take-away cup.

They step over to his small corner table to sit for a minute. "An old friend has just shown up in Rome," Tobias tells him. "Coincidentally, she's staying in the apartment across from mine."

"An old friend," he says, his tone full of hints that he knows the f-word is wholly inadequate to describe the subject of their conversation.

"Yes, a friend," he repeats. "All right, she's more of a BFW."

"What's a BFW?" Marco asks.

"A beautiful fucking woman."

"I see." Somehow he doubts if he does. "So, you're over Lena."

Lena, otherwise known as the walking nightmare. She's a woman from the architecture firm, and Tobias recently had the incredibly poor judgment to date her. In his defense, she seemed pretty sexy at first. Flirtatious, gorgeous, you name it. But as it turns out, she's also a total lunatic. "I was never under Lena," He protests.

"Really?" asks Marco, laughing at his discomfort. "She seemed to think you were."

"I was attached to her. It's hard to have feelings for a psycho beast from hell."

"Well, I don't blame you. She's a beautiful ragazza, but she is not so right in the head, that one. You're lucky to be rid of her." He narrows his eyes at him. "Of course, you're not a man who gets attached to any woman. But maybe you have some desire to attach yourself to this woman you just saw? Something tells me there's a story with her, no?"

The barista sets down his iced coffee in front of Tobias and silently stalks off. Clearly he knows that Marco and him have important business to discuss.

"The last time I saw Tris was at a party seven years ago," Tobias says. "I had feelings for her then. I suppose you could say I was attached to her, except that we weren't together, not really."

"Things didn't go well at this party," Marco concludes before he's actually given him any details.

"No, not so much. Well, at first, they went very well. I thought…well, I thought we were going to go home together, but we didn't. She ran away just when things were getting good."

"Ah, like Cinderella," he says, pronouncing the C as a Ch. Chinderella.

"Yes, sort of. But instead of leaving a glass slipper behind, she stole something from me." Something he never got back.

"Your wallet?" he asks, laughing. "Or maybe your balls."

"Not my wallet," Tobias replies. "I kept my balls, too. She didn't get anywhere near those, actually. We shared exactly one kiss that night. That was it. It's been a long time since I've thought about it. But I'll admit, it's all flooding back now."

"What do you remember?" asks Marco, who's as intrigued as someone watching a murder mystery unfold.

"Well, I was twenty-one, I remember wanting to be with her so badly that I jogged off to get us a blanket when I realized there was a chance that it could happen."

"You wanted to protect her from getting sand in her lady pieces," he replies.

"I think you mean lady parts," Tobias chuckles. "Yeah. I didn't really want to ruin the whole experience. I guess I thought I was doing something considerate, but by the time I got back to the place where I'd left her, she was gone."

"What happened?"

"I never found out. I remember asking around to see if anyone knew where she was, but no one had a clue. I tried to be a decent guy, even called her place to make sure she was okay. I must have left her housemate ten messages over the following few days. But I had my damned pride. When she never called back, I gave up. I had to ask a mutual friend of ours if she was even alive, because I had no clue."

"So you've never seen her again until today."

"Nope. I left Chicago shortly after that night, and I never went back. My family lived out of state by then, and there was no reason to head back."

"No reason?" Marco asks, a knowing smile on his face.

"If I couldn't have Tris, I didn't see the point," Tobias admits.

"But you still want her. And now you have a chance again."

"Yeah, I guess I do. I wanted her back then, too, even though I was dating a woman—Nita. I actually broke up with her because I thought maybe I had a chance with Tris. But Tris proved me wrong when she took off on me."

"So she ran away from you, and now she's here. She sounds a little like a—how you say—a" Marco scratches his chin. "A tease. What's so special about her that she's making you smile so big?"

"I'm not smiling big," Tobias says, realizing that he's lying through his grinning teeth. It feels like a sign of weakness to admit that he's gotten so excited over a woman who basically ditched him with no explanation and left him. He's okay with going a little weak in the knees over a woman as sexy as Tris. "As for what's so special about her, that's easy: Everything. She's amazing, beautiful, intelligent. She has the most incredible eyes. They always made me crazy back in the day."

"You are crushing her hard," says Marco.

"You mean crushing on her? Yeah, I guess I am. She was what we call the one who got away. Only she didn't, because I never actually had her."

"I can read you like a newspaper. Even if you didn't have her, she had you. By the balls."

"You're really obsessed with my balls, aren't you?" Tobias jokes, and Marco shrugs as if to say What of it? "Anyhow, she really is just a friend, was a friend" he insists, trying to convince himself that it's true.

"But you still want her, after all this time," says Marco. "I can see it in your face."

"Well, yeah." he'll admit that much, at least. "She's still sexy as all hell. Any man who saw her would want her."

"Hmm." Marco rubs a hand on the back of his neck as he contemplates what he's been saying. "There's something you're not telling me about all this. Why did she take off that night? Did you do something to hurt her?"

"Me? Hell no. The last thing I was interested in was hurting Tris."

"So maybe Tris was scared of sex. Maybe she got cold toes."

"Cold feet," Tobias corrects. "Maybe. I suppose it's possible. I've always figured that we were both young and stupid, and we both messed up. But you might be right. Maybe she panicked when she realized that things were about to get serious. I've always wondered what would've happened if I hadn't taken off to find that damned blanket."

Marco leans his elbows on the table and stares at him. He's still really into this, like he's trying to sort out a puzzle. "How did she seem when you saw her?"

"Just now?" Tobias asks.

He nods.

"Strange," he admits, much as he wants to pretend she was happy. "Like she'd seen a ghost. I can't say she was super pleased to see me."

"Hmm. She'll come around," he tells Tobias. "You're a good guy." He leans back, draping an arm over the back of his chair. "You just need to win her back. Charm her. Convince her that she wants to be with you."

"I'm not sure that's possible at this point," Tobias tells him. "I'm getting a serious friends-only vibe from her. Honestly, I'm not even sure she wants to be friends."

"Playing hard to catch. You should tell her how you feel," he says, narrowing his eyes.

"So she can reject me again?" Tobias chuckles. "I'm not sure my fragile boyish heart could take it."

"Yeah, but you want to do it. Fuck, man, I'm Italian. I know what lust looks like better than anyone. You totally want this girl. You should go for it. So what if she rejects you? What could really go wrong?"

"She could run away and not speak to me for the next seven years?"

He shrugs. "So what? You've already been through that. What's it going to hurt to go through it again?"

He's right, of course. Worst case scenario, Tris pushes him away. Best case scenario? Holy shit, he can't even imagine it.

"Thanks, man," Tobias replies, picking up his iced coffee. "Listen, I'm going to pay up and head back to my apartment."

"Of course you are," Marco replies with a knowing grin. "La bella donna Tris might be nearby. You should stay close to her in case she changes her brain."

"Mind. Changes her mind. And yeah, she might. She might not." Tobias shrugs as he moves towards the cash register.

"Denial isn't attractive on you, Tobias," he responds. "Enjoy your evening, Casanova."

"I will."

Marco is right about one thing. It's time to head back towards Tris. He wants her, and he needs to win her back before some young Italian buck named Giancarlo charms his way into the one thing Tobias wants more than anything.

Her heart.

***PAGEBREAK***

Once dressed, tRIS pulls her hair back into a high ponytail, she throws on a pair of sunglasses, grabs her purse and goes down the stairs like she's Audrey Hepburn in Roman Holiday. If she's lucky, maybe a Gregory Peck lookalike will come along and sweep her off her feet and drive her around on a vespa—safely, of course—while her boobs dig into his back. She could be a loose floozy, at least for the next week.

Not that Audrey Hepburn was ever a floozy. She was a goddess. Those eyebrows. Those eyes. She was a beautiful doe, innocent and sexy at once. She always played women who seemed kind of shy and awkward, but you could tell that deep down, they knew exactly who and what they were. Tris wants to learn how to play one of those women, even if she can't be one.

After she's trotted down the arched tunnel towards the street, she turns right, striding along the sidewalk, confident, collected, convinced that she give absolutely no fucks about anything. It only takes her a few seconds to spot what looks like a row of restaurants in the distance, green vines trailing down their red and ochre façades.

"Shit!" Tris yells as ice-cold brown liquid splashes over her chest.

Wet. She was soaking wet.

Someone—a man—has just slammed into her, his iced coffee in hand. She leaps backwards, staring down at her very cold brown boobs before pulling her eyes up to her clumsy assailant's face.

Of all the cafés in all the towns in all the world, you had to walk out of this one…and douse my breasts in iced coffee.

Tobias Eaton

He just poured his drink all over her breasts.

He means holy shit, He wants to kiss her so much.

Somehow he never quite noticed how amazing her breasts were. Of course, it's entirely possible that they're even more spectacular now than when she was twenty. She's patting herself down. Her nipples have gone hard and tight under her thin little (formerly) white shirt and bra, and he's suddenly turned on that he wishes he was the kind of man who carried around a purse, so he could cover it up. For the second time in an hour, she's made his body charge head-first into Lustville.

"I'm so sorry," Tobias tells her, trying his best to tear his eyes away from her chest. "I didn't see you there…"

She's got sunglasses on, but he's pretty sure she's glaring at him right now like someone who's out for blood. Or at least fantasizing about giving him a swift kick to the cluster.

"It's fine," she growls. "I'll just go home and change. It's fine."

Tobias has been around the block once or twice with the ladies. He knows that it's fine generally means I hate you, you fucking bastard. "Can you wait a minute?" He asks, but she's already turning around, ready to high-tail it back to the apartment. Damn it, Tris.

"What for?" she replies over her shoulder. "Did you have some minestrone soup that you wanted to dump over my head to complete the look?"

He almost wants to laugh. This isn't the Tris that he remembers, the meek, shy quasi-teenager who was turning into a woman in front of his eyes during high school and college. This Tris has developed a serious backbone, and he had to admit, he likes it. A lot.

"I'll come with you and help get you cleaned up," Tobias says, jogging after her to catch up. "Look, I'm sure you're hungry. Let me take you out for something to eat once you've changed your clothes. I'll make it up to you."

Her shoulders hunch for a moment like she's giving in to defeat, then she thrusts them back again, apparently unwilling to show any sign of weakness. "Fine," she says.

"As long as you promise not to pour a vat of alfredo sauce on me, I suppose I can tolerate your presence for a little while," she snarls, though her lips are betraying a shallow smile. Okay, we're making progress.

"I can't promise anything," Tobias replies. "But I've got to say, the coffee suits you really well." Another glare. "C'mon, Tris. Again I'm sorry. I was just saying good-bye to a friend, and stupidly didn't watch where I was going…"

"Again, it's okay. We don't need to dwell on it." She thrusts her chin up in the air proudly. He gets the distinct impression that she hasn't noticed his hungry eyes.

"I have a washing machine in my apartment," Tobias tells her. "We can throw your shirt in, if you'd like. It'll be good as new by the time we get back from dinner. You'll never remember that I poured frozen brown stuff all over your chest."

"I guess wet t-shirt contests are something altogether different in Italy," she says as a young man passes by them. Tobias notices him staring at her breasts, too. Part of him wants to punch him for it, but another part wants to shake his hand and say, "Dude, I get it. They're incredible, right?"

"Wet t-shirts are the same the world over," Tobias tells her. "Delightful entertainment."

"Hmph." There goes her chin again, reaching for the sky.

"Have I done something to offend you?" Tobias asks, immediately realizing what a stupid question that is. "Other than assaulting you with a delicious cold beverage, I mean."

"I'm probably just tired," she responds.

"Okay. Well, I'll help you get a second wind. We'll get you cleaned up, I'll buy you some dinner and soon enough, Rome will start making you happy instead of miserable."

"Does it make you happy?" she asks, turning his way as they open the iron gate to their building and proceed along the passage towards the stairs that lead to his apartment.

"It does, actually. Yeah, I love it here," he tells her. "It's a nice change."

"From Chicago, you mean?"

"Chicago?" he asks as they start to climb the left set of stairs. "I haven't been there in ages. But yeah, this place is sure as hell different from there. But then, every place is. I have some weird memories there."

"As do I."

She throws him another sideways glare along with that retort. What the hell? She seems to be implying that he was the guilty party way back then. Damn it, he's not the one who deserted her that night. She left him behind, in case she doesn't remember. Besides, it was almost a decade ago. He can't imagine that it's that important to her after all this time.

"I have some good memories, too," he tells her, stopping at his door to turn her way. She's pulled off the sunglasses and she's staring up into his eyes. Trying to figure him out.

"Oh yeah?" she asks. "Like what?"

"I remember a particular night, years ago, that started off really well," he tells her. Immediately her cheeks flush. Okay, so she does know exactly what he's talking about.

"Me too," she replies. "I remember it all too well."

"What happened to you, Tris?" he asks quietly, leaning towards her as he presses his arm to the wall, raising it over his head. "What happened to you that night?"

She stares at him, shock and confusion permeating her features. "You're really telling me you don't know?" she asks. "You don't remember?"

"Tell me."

She grinds her jaw for a moment, then blurts out, "I guess I realized I'd made a stupid mistake, so I left."

She's hiding something, he can tell. Even after all this time he knows her face, her eyes. He knows when she's hurting. He knew back then, too. He just wishes she'd explained it to him. Hell, he wishes she'd explain it to him now, instead of holding all her cards so close to her beautiful chest.

"Look," he says, "if it's something I did, I just want you to know that I'm officially sorry. All I remember is that I thought we were getting along really well…."

"So did I." The sharpness of her words slices through the air like a blade.

"So why did you…" he begins, but he cuts himself off, shaking his head. "You know what? Never mind. There's no point in rehashing the stupid things we did years ago. You're here now, and so am I. Maybe we should start over from scratch." He extends his right hand towards her. "Hi, I'm Tobias Eaton. It's nice to meet you."

She hesitates, wincing a little before finally accepting his offer. "Tris Prior," she replies, taking his hand. "And you know what? Starting over would be great."

"Good," he says, his eyes exploring her for a moment before he opens the door. He hopes she means it.

Once they're inside, he darts to the bedroom to grab her one of his t-shirts. He brings it back out and dangle it in front of her face. "I'll make you a deal: If you hand me your dirty shirt, you can have this one." When she reaches for it, he yanks it backwards.

She's glaring at him, not so amused by his attempt to get her to strip down to her bra. Slowly she crosses her arms over her chest, wincing as she remembers how cold and wet her gorgeous tits still are.

"Okay, I can see that you're not going to accept my generous offer. Bedroom's behind you and to the right," he tells her, nodding in the direction of the door. "Don't go flattering yourself by thinking I was actually trying to get your clothes off. I'm a perfect gentleman, and not at all interested in your breasts."

"Uh-huh," she says, tearing the shirt out of his hands as she narrows her eyes at him. Wow. If looks could kill, he'd hit the floor like a bag of rocks.

"I'm serious." Looking towards the door as he's speaking, he realizes that she hasn't closed it entirely. Oh, damn. He can see her reflected in the mirror over the dresser. She's turned sideways, facing away from him. She's wearing nothing but her bra, which she's slipping off as well. Of course she is; it's wet and stained, too. And God help him, he's still looking as she peels it off and drops it to the floor.

By the time she heads back into the living room, she's wearing a t-shirt that smells of laundry detergent, but also vaguely of him. She always loved his scent when they were younger; it reminded her of the fresh rain, of home. She supposes it's been long enough now that she doesn't associate it entirely with the heartbreak of youth and dreams that have exploded in a nauseating mess of stupid girl-emotions.

Besides, he did apologize for what happened that night, and even if he didn't get into specifics, it's high time she let it go. She doesn't particularly want to let him know how much it hurt her. She never wants to admit that she was in love with him all those years ago. Besides, it's all in the past, in the days when her emotions were amplified and ridiculous. Seeing him again has taught her how different they both are now, how much they've evolved.

It doesn't matter, anyhow, because she's not in love with him anymore, right? They're not dating, nor will they ever. He's nothing more to her than someone she vaguely knows in a city full of strangers. He's a convenience. A friend who might take her around to see some sights one day, before they each return to their respective abodes and part ways.

"Drink?" he asks her..

"No thanks," she says as she hands him her damp garments. "I'm going to head over and get some clean clothes from my place."

"Okay. But then I'm taking you out, right?"

"Yes, fine."

"Good." He puts the clothes on the counter and steps towards her. For a moment it looks like he might put his hands on her waist, but at the last second he thinks better of it. Good. She's not sure she could handle his touch; it might set off old feelings and make her go weak again. It's best to keep their distance. They're friends. Buddies. Chums. Pals. Even though she totally wants to have sex with him so badly that it's making her core ache with the thought of it.

Okay, fine. She's not as over him as she thought.

"I'll be right back," she blurts out, pulling away as the word sex springs cruelly into her mind.

"Okay."

Tris slides into her bedroom and picks out a nice little dress, something blue with spaghetti straps. After throwing it on over a clean strapless bra, she's sorted and ready to go. She'll even admit that she's excited to have someone show her around the city.

She tells herself that she's not excited that the someone she's about to spend time with is Tobias. But it's possible that she's lying to herself just a little bit. The truth is that somewhere inside her, old feelings have begun sprouting like weeds and she's not entirely sure that she wants to fight them back. Christina was right about a lot of things, but maybe the most important one was what she said about not holding the past against someone.

"Ready," she tells him as she slips in through the door. He's changed too, into a white cotton shirt and a slightly dressier pair of shorts.

"Yes, you are," he says, eyeing her up and down. She doesn't know if she's imagining it, but he looks a little like he wants to eat her. "God, Tris, you really look great," he breathes, and she's not sure if he's even aware of how much sex there is in his voice.

"Thanks. You look good too," she replies.

Bullshit. He looks amazing, but she's not going to flatter him. Some part of her still wants to punish him for everything. She's enjoying being just slightly cruel, playing femme fatale to this horny, sexy, desirable man.

The only problem is that there's something she'd enjoy even more. A sudden urge to kiss him has assaulted her. Her lips are tingling, as are other bits of her body. It would be the easiest thing right now to step forward, slip a hand around his neck and press her lips to his. To take up exactly where they left off that night seven years ago. She'll bet she could get everything she wanted and then some. She may be a little shy, a little insecure, but she does know how to seduce a man.

The thing is, she doesn't want to seduce Tobias. She wants to get to know him again. To spend time with him, develop a friendship, if that's even possible for them. The last thing she wants is to lose him again the moment one of them does something dumb.

"Let's go, then," he replies. His voice is still tight, and she can all but see him trying to be a gentleman despite the sexual tension between them. Damn, that would be amazing.

"So, what have you been doing with yourself all this time?" Tobias asks as he guides Tris down the stairwell.

"I finished my Master's degree in Art History a couple of years ago," she tells him. "But then I changed my course of action."

"What did you change it to?"

"I ended up in fashion design, actually," she says timidly, like she's afraid she'll judge her.

"Really?" he asks, admiration flooding through him. It's no wonder she always looks so damn good. She's got an eye for clothing, textiles, how to fit her body perfectly.

She nods. "I've been working in the industry ever since I graduated, doing design work for theatre companies. Part of the reason I came here was to do what you're doing; study Italian designers so I can go home and rip them off. Oops, I mean be inspired by their genius." She laughs. "Eventually I want to set up my own clothing line. If I had my way, I'd open a little shop somewhere."

"That's amazing, Tris," he tells her, pulling the gate open at the end of the corridor. They step out into the late-day Roman sunshine. "I'd love to see some of your designs."

"Well, this is your lucky day. I'm wearing one," she replies, gesturing down to the dress that he's grown very quickly to appreciate, the one that hugs her curves so well that she can imagine what it would feel like to stroke his fingers over each subtle nuance of her body.

"Wow," he says, admiring both the dress and what's under it. "That's incredible."

"Thanks," she says, beaming. "I'm sort of excited to see what the next few weeks will bring. Though I'm starting to wish I'd spent some time studying Italian before I came. There's only so much I can learn without understanding the language."

"You'll pick it up quickly." he leaps in front of her and turns to face her, walking slowly backwards. "Repeat after me: vino bianco."

"Vino bianco," she says, her lips moving in the most seductive way as they caress the consonants.

"Very good. Now try 'vorrei andare alla cattedrale.'"

"Um, that's a mouthful," she says.

She starts to repeat the sentence. "Vorrei," she says. "What does that mean?"

"Let's see if you can figure it out," he teases, stopping and pressing his palm against the wall, blocking her way. "Vorrei passare una sera con la bella Tris."

She raises an eyebrow playfully at him. "If you're saying something dirty, I…"

"Not dirty," he assures her, turning away. "Not at all. You'll know when I'm saying something dirty."

She chuckles. "I'm sure I will."

"Come on, bella Tris, let's go eat."

But right now, no other woman exists. Even memories of others have faded, replaced by Tris' beautiful face, her sensual body, the sexy way she moves. She's complex, interesting, intriguing. She's everything.

He remembers how she used to keep her chin down, her eyes slipping over her body when she thought he wasn't looking. She'd tuck a loose strand of hair behind an ear, and the second she knew he was looking she'd glance away, concealing her interest. She still does that. Still stares at him in the few moments when his eyes aren't on her. She thinks he doesn't notice, but he does. If he didn't know better, he'd think she wanted him.

But he does know better, of course. He knows her by now. She proved in May 2010 that she never wanted anything more from him than one passionate kiss.

Since that night he's never gotten really close to any woman.

The woman he dated briefly, Lena, she was a prime example. She's attractive and flirtatious, but he didn't care much about her; she's not someone he'd ever fall in love with. But the truth is, he's never been in love with anyone.

He came close with Tris a long time ago. He always wanted to be close to her. He wanted inside her mind, her soul, to know what makes her tick. He wanted her to trust him enough to open up, but he was too young, too stupid to know how to talk to a woman back then. He was too stupid to understand how much he had to open himself up in order to let a woman like her close to him.

Maybe he still hasn't figured it out. But he'd be willing to try, if she'd give him a chance.

The restaurant is literally a hundred feet from their building, and in a matter of seconds they're sitting at an outdoor table. A hot Roman breeze has started up, blowing loose bits of hair around Tris' face. She laughs as she tries in vain to tame it, yanking it back into a renewed ponytail. He's missed the sound of her laughter. He missed the Tris from the days when everything was hope and excitement about a future that neither of them could really foresee.

"Would you rather go inside?" Tobias asks. "The wind and your hair probably aren't a fun combination."

"No. I like it out here." She leans back in her chair, watching cars and vespas motor by down the narrow street. "This place is special, isn't it?" she asks. "Rome, I mean."

"Special how?" he can't help but smile as he watches her. She has this cute little look of excitement on her face that he hasn't seen in such a long time. "I'm not disagreeing, but I want to hear your take."

"Like, special in the way that the buildings speak to you." The words come out with no irony, no apology. Like she just knows exactly what she's saying, because she does.

"Oh, I know it sounds insane," she says. "I just feel like there's something in this place that speaks volumes. These buildings are what, hundreds of years old?"

"Some of them, yeah."

"Don't you think they've seen things? Secret love affairs, deaths, births, the whole nine yards?"

"No doubt. They do call it the Eternal City for a reason," he replies. "There have been a lot of shenanigans gone down in this place."

"And you?" she asks, raising her chin to level him with a gaze that tells him she's getting serious. A waiter has come out to pour them each a glass of water, but he makes quick work of it and leaves. "What shenanigans have you gotten up to since you arrived? When did you get here, anyhow?"

"I've been here five months," he tells her. "As for shenanigans, I told you already, I did get myself entangled in something a little foolish. Or maybe I should say, with someone a little foolish. I shouldn't have, but I guess I was lonely."

Her eyes peel away from his and she looks at something across the street. "Ah, that," she replies. "Lena, is it?"

"Sorry," he adds. "I don't have to talk about her."

"No, it's fine," she says, offering up a thin smile. "Who is she?"

"A co-worker. It ended a couple of weeks back. Hell, it only lasted a few days, really. Turns out she's a little…clingy."

"So, you mentioned that it's over?" she asks. He's not sure if he detects a hint of strain in her voice.

"Yes, completely," he tells her, studying her face for a reaction. "I'm as single as ever. But of course, you and the famous Giancarlo, or Signor Squidgypants, or whatever his name is…"

"Hmmm?" she replies. She looks confused for a moment, then a light seems to go on, like she's remembering what she told him earlier. "Oh yeah, Giancarlo. Oh, you know. It's nothing serious. Just a date I'm supposed to go on."

"Well, I'm not surprised he's snatched you up already. You're so…" Shit. He was about to tell her how sexy she is. How desirable.

"I'm what?" she asks, leaning towards him.

"You're an attractive woman," he says in a restrained tone as his eyes veer to the soft white cleavage above her dress's neckline. Attractive isn't the word for it.

"Thanks," she replies, staring into his eyes, which have slyly moved back to meet hers.

Maybe after everything, it's good that nothing happened with them seven years ago.

Maybe they were waiting for this moment.

Maybe it was all about timing.

It feels like no time has passed since they were sitting together back in Chicago. Staring into one another's eyes, just like they're doing now. Only this time, it's even better.

She wants him as badly as she did then. Maybe more, if that's even possible.

She wants to throw caution to the wind and ask him to come back to her place with her. She wants to make love at long last with Tobias, not just once but over and over again. She wants to drag her fingertips over his eight-pack, sweep her tongue over his muscular chest. She wants to know if he likes having his neck kissed.

These totally insane thoughts are flying through her mind as she stares at him. Every word he utters is sex. Every movement of his hands, every twitch of his lips into that seductive smile of his. Every little thing he does makes her want him more.

But then she remembers that they're just supposed to be friends. Nothing more.

Stupid rules.

"How's your food?" he asks after she's taken a few greedy mouthfuls to distract herself from the unending stream of lustful thoughts. She'd hardly realized how hungry she was, and damn, this pasta is good.

"Really damn good. Is all Italian food this delicious?"

"Most of it," he says, nodding.

"I'm starting to think Italy is just perfection," she tells him, looking around at their surroundings. "This place is another universe. The smells, the sights. I feel like a naive, wide-eyed tourist."

"Well, it's what you are," he says. "So am I, really. Even though I've been here for a while I feel like someone's hit refresh on the Rome page. I'd forgotten what an amazing city it was. I guess my mind was immersed in my work."

"Oh? So what's changed?" she's staring at him, trying to deduce his meaning. She feels like she's been doing that all along. Always trying to figure him out, like she wants to keep one step ahead, in case he says something that stings.

"You, Tris," he replies. "You're here, and you just seem taken with Rome. Your energy is infectious." He presses his elbows to the table and leans forward. "I'd forgotten how amazing you are too, you know."

"I'm not so amazing," she tells him, gesturing to a woman who's walking by, a red leather purse slung over one shoulder. "Now, that chick is amazing. Look at her clothes." She's wearing long, striped palazzo pants and a linen top that's tied at the waist. In the States she'd draw stares for looking like a supermodel, but here she's just another Italian woman walking home. "That's sort of why I came here, the fashion, the style. It's like Italians are just on another level from the rest of us. More highly evolved or something."

Tobias smiles and turns his gaze to take in people passing them by. "You're trying to distract me by pointing at other women," he says.

"Yes, I am."

"Okay," he says. "Let's play your game and people-watch. You tell me what clothes look good and which are awful."

"Challenge accepted," she replies.

"What about that one?" He points to a woman who must be seventy, wearing a low-cut khaki jumpsuit and leather sandals.

"Are you kidding?" she laughs. "She's awesome. Not self-conscious in the least about her age. That's how every woman should be, but we're all tightly-wound idiots who worry that we'll be judged. Hell, back home there are TV shows dedicated to teaching women to dress for their age, like there's some kind of stupid rule about it."

"You don't think there is?" He asks the question, but she doesn't get the impression that he's judgmental about it.

"No. It's all societal pressure that we thrust upon women to control them. It's crazy, really. When I'm old I want to wear heels and colorful outfits and say fuck it to everything and everyone."

"You'll be a spitfire," he laughs, sitting back. "I can see it now."

"Maybe. I do find that I get less tolerant with age. Not that I'm so old yet."

"Less tolerant? Yeah, I sort of noticed that earlier when you looked like you might castrate me with your fingernails."

"Did I really? I guess I should apologize for that."

"It's okay. I think you've figured out by now that I'm not actually the devil."

"No, maybe not. You're going to have to work pretty hard to convince me once and for all, though."

"I'll get right on that. So, speaking of devilish men, have you had any major relationships since I last saw you, Tris?"

"I was dating someone a while back," she tells him. It's the truth. "A lawyer. For about two minutes I thought it might get serious."

"And then?"

"He proved to me that he wasn't worth it by being a total grade-A douche," she says, smirking. "Which seems to be the story of my life. I get together with guys who aren't good for me, knowing I'll eventually end up breaking up with them. It's my way of making sure my heart never gets broken by a guy who's actually nice."

"I see," says Tobias, studying her again. His amazing lips are twitching into the most gorgeous smile that she can hardly stand to look at him. To think she kissed those lips once. She remembers perfectly how good it felt. …

Stop it.

"What about you?" she asks, surprised that she's able to pose such an intimate question without wincing. "Have you had any serious relationships?"

He shakes his head, his eyes locked on mine. "Nope," he says. "No one appealed to me enough. No one ever held a candle to…" Fortunately, he stops himself before giving away the name on his lips. No doubt he was about to bring up some goddess, and she's not sure that she wants to hear about her. "What about that one?" he asks, pointing to a guy who looks like he must be an American tourist, walking along in plaid shorts, a striped shirt and flip flops.

"Awful," she says. "If I want to see guys who look like that I can just hang around Los Angeles."

"Fair enough."

A moment of silence passes between them before either of them speaks again.

"I don't know much about fashion, but I like your clothes," he adds, his voice a little soft, a little smooth. "If I had to pick, I'd definitely give you the title of Best-Dressed Woman in Rome."

"This old thing?"

"Yes, that old thing," he nods. "You make the locals pale in comparison to your beauty."

"Well, you're being awfully complimentary, Tobias. Are you trying to make up for…" she stops herself yet again. Damn it, Tris. The matter is supposed to be officially closed.

He looks confused again, like he has no idea what she's talking about.

"Sorry," she mutters. "I was about to say something stupid." That's it. From this moment on she's going to follow Christina's advice. I won't judge Tobias, or anyone else, by their past. Only by their present and future. At least she'll try.

"So you said you're working in Rome?" she asks. "What can you tell me about that?"

"Ah. Well, long story. I guess you don't know that I started up my own firm a few years back, in New York City."

"New York?" her voice chokes with shock. There may be a little sadness in there, too. "I had no idea you'd moved. When did that happen?"

He pulls his eyes away and stares off into space, like he's recalling something from the distant past. "Things didn't go as I'd hoped, so I took off." He turns back to her and gives her the strangest look, as if she was somehow involved in his decision to leave. Okay, now she's the confused one. "I moved as far away as I could without leaving the country," he continues. "Anyhow, getting my own firm up and running is something I've worked on for years. I've got fifty employees and counting working for Eaton Design."

"Wow. So you can afford to pay that many people?" Some part of her chest swells with pride and admiration. "Good for you."

"Thanks." He's smiling, looking so cute. Almost embarrassed, like he doesn't want to boast about what an incredible achievement it is. "Anyhow, I'm here on a sort of work sabbatical, getting together with some Italian firms to study integrating classical design into modern buildings. I want to bring elements of Italian architecture back to New York. Everything's gotten so damned big and modern, I miss the days when buildings were hard stone, strong and durable."

"I do too," she tells him.

"Don't you wish you could wake up every morning in a place that looks like Trastevere?" he asks, looking around at the buildings that surround us. "Vines dripping down the walls, beautiful open windows, the smell of delicious food cooking?"

"Totally,"

"That's what I want to create. A place to live that doesn't feel oppressive or closed in. I want to live in a quiet, beautiful place that feels as relaxing as an Italian villa."

"I get it," she says, staring into his eyes. "I understand. I suppose that's why I love the style here, the clothes, the everything. It's so laid back but sort of…I don't know, dreamy."

"Tris," he replies, leaning even closer. His blue eyes are penetrating her and pulling her in at once. Dangerous man alert. "I've really missed you, you know."

"I've missed you too," she says quietly. But she doesn't expand on the thought. She can't. Because then he'd know how much she once cared for him.

They sit in silence for a moment before Tobias speaks up again. "Do you remember the time when we were in high school and we all went down to that ravine? The one that John fell into?"

Lifting her water glass to her mouth, she laughs. "Jeez, I'd almost forgotten. We were teenagers then. I didn't realize you even knew I was there. There must have been fifteen of us."

"Oh, I knew. I always knew when you were around."

"You did?"

Oh, God. He's staring into her now with that same hungry look she saw in his apartment. The look that makes her want to pull her clothes off and tell him to take her in any way that he wants. "Always," he says, his voice deepening. "I had the biggest crush on you. I can't believe you didn't know that. The only reason I never acted on it until…that night…was because you seemed so reserved. Aloof, even. I gave up on you and went out with girls I didn't like that much."

"I had a crush on you for a long time, too," She lies. Crush, ha. I was madly in love with you like only a teenage girl can be. I had hopes and dreams pinned on you. I wanted you.

As the memory of the pain hits her again, she can feel herself tensing up, her fingers curling into fists. She doesn't want to revisit heartbreak when they're having such a nice time. Maybe they should quit while they're ahead.

"Listen, I'm pretty tired," she tells him. "Do you think we could maybe settle up and head back?"

He nods, drawing his body away as though to signal that it's okay, he's not going to make a move. He throws a hand up and gestures for the bill. "I've got this," he tells her.

"Oh, no," she replies, inadvertently reaching across the table to stop him. She doesn't want to be in debt to Tobias.

"Please," he says, reaching a hand out abruptly to land on her own. This is the first time he's touched her, if you don't count his slamming into her at the coffee shop or their handshake. Shocks drive through her, sending a mad, wonderful pulse to her core, reminding her what effect this man has on her very excited body. "Tris, let me pay," he says. His voice is as strained as hers feels.

"Okay,"

He strokes a thumb along her skin before pulling his hand away, as though he's reluctant to let her go. "Listen, I want to see you again," he murmurs. His voice has gone very deep, very low, its masculinity swirling like smoke around her mind. If she didn't know better she'd say that he was making a demand. "I want to spend time with you, Tris."

Tris shakes her head, unwilling to negotiate with emotional terrorists who take her heart hostage and don't give it back. "I don't think…" she begins.

"So don't think," he tells her. His voice is all but a growl. Her eyes meet his, and he looks so sexy that she wants to throw caution to the wind and give in. She wants to take him back to her place and breeze her hands over his muscles, straddle him, dominate him, claim him for herself, just for one night.

She wants that night she lost so long ago.

"You're telling me not to think?" she asks. "All I ever do is think. It's my downfall. It's why…it's why..."

"You're perfect, Tris. The only thing that would make you more perfect is if you tell me you'll spend some time with me here, in Rome."

"I'll spend some time with you," she says. His smile is now evening out confidently, his teeth making an appearance.

"Excellent," he says. "Was that so hard?"

"I mean I'll spend time with you as a friend."

Bye-bye, smile. You were nice while you lasted.

Still, he keeps his chin up. Tearing his eyes away, he says, "Well, that's better than nothing. As a friend then. Tomorrow after I've finished working, let me take you out and show you the sights. By then you'll have gotten some rest, and we can go for a good long walk."

"Sounds good." A wander through the streets would be okay. As long as he doesn't touch her again. If he puts his hands on her, she'll lose her mind and her resolve. All resistance will melt away, and she'll lick him, or kiss him, or bite him. Or all three at once.

They say that every woman has one man in her life that she just can't resist. The bad boy who's just too attractive to give up. The problem is, she's beginning to think Tobias isn't bad.

Tris just shut him down like an undesirable light bulb.

Or, what's worse, an undesirable man.

He thought they were making strides. She seemed to be relaxing, laughing, smiling like in the old days. He guesses that he was a little foolish to assume that it meant that they might be able to pick up where they left off. They're not there yet. He's not sure they'll ever be, even if they spend the next few weeks together. He feels like no time has passed since that night. He's still the guy who ran off to get that blanket. Excited, optimistic, ready to finally be with the girl he's wanted for so long.

But she's not ready. He's not sure she'll ever be.

He's not a total asshole. He's not going to disrespect the wishes of a woman he holds in such high esteem by making a move on her, when clearly she doesn't want him. If she's willing to spend time with him as friends, so be it. At least she hasn't run away this time. They're talking to each other like adults, and that's more than she's gotten from her in a long time.

After he's settled up, he walks her back towards their building. She's silent all the way there, and so is he.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Tobias says after a time.

She looks sideways at him, that sly expression in her eyes that tells him there's a lot going on in that head of hers. "I'm not thinking anything," she insists.

"Yes, you are. You know how I can tell?"

"How?"

"Because you're breathing, Tris. You were always thinking, always over-analyzing everything. I remember that well about you. You even said it yourself."

She laughs. "Okay, fine. If you insist, I was just thinking it's pretty weird how things turn out, isn't it?"

"What do you mean?" he asks her as they reach the front gate. When he's unlocked it, they both walk into the cobblestone corridor that leads towards the stairwell.

"I never thought I'd see you again," she replies. "And I certainly never expected to have dinner with you in an Italian restaurant—in Italy."

"Me neither," he tells her, "but I'm really damned glad that fate made it happen."

At the stairs he has a choice: follow her to the right or go up to the left, to his place. He knows exactly what he needs to do; He just doesn't want to do it. So he stops at the base of the stairs and turns her way, delaying the inevitable. "Listen, you know where to find me if you want me, need me, want to talk," he tells her. He's not smiling anymore. He's dead serious, and a little sad. "Thanks for coming out to dinner."

"Thank you," she says, throwing him a quick, labored grin. But her eyes contradict her upturned lips; they're questioning, like she wants to understand something. Thing is, he can't read her mind, damn it. He can't know what she wants from him unless she says it.

He wishes she'd open up to him, say something. Anything.

"Tobias, the thing is, I…" she says in a voice so low it's nearly a whisper.

"Yes?"

She looks down at her hands, which are fiddling with the keys twisted among her fingers. "Nothing. I'll see you around. Good night."

As she heads up the stairs, he watches her for a few seconds. She still has no real idea how sexy she is, or how much he wants her.

"Good night, Tris," he whispers as she disappears around the corner.

After she's hiked up the stairs and made her way inside her apartment, she runs over to the other side of the living room to shut the curtains before Tobias gets a chance to turn his light on across the courtyard. She needs to cut herself off from any evidence of that too-gorgeous man before she gets even more hooked on whatever it is that he's selling. She needs to distance herself, needs to keep herself from falling into the abyss again.

How is it that a guy who was the captain of the college football team—the sexy, smart, impossibly handsome blond god who dominated the halls and every girl's heart in high school and university—has actually managed to get even hotter over the years? More baffling still, how the fuck is he still single?

It's killing her to resist him. She wants to open the curtains and yell across that she was wrong to tell him she just wanted to be friends. She wants to shout, "Tobias! I made a mistake! Now get over here and take off your damn clothes!"

She wants to spend the next four weeks in Rome walking the streets during the day, taking in the sights, and coming home at night to make love with him in a creaky old brass-framed bed until they can't even walk anymore. She wants him to kiss her on the Spanish Steps, by the Trevi Fountain, under the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. She wants him to whisper lascivious words to her in St. Peter's, to secretly push his hand up her skirt under the table of a five-star restaurant. She wants all the things they never had.

But more than anything, she wants to feel again. She wants to let her heart open just a little and see what's in there. The thing is, she does feel. He's still all the things she loved back in the days before he broke her heart. Only now he's better, wiser.

She's still in love with him.

Of course, so she is.

She's pondering the entire stupid dilemma when a gentle knock sounds at her door. If it's Tobias, she has no idea how she'll resist grabbing him by the waist of his shorts and dragging him into the apartment so she can have her way with him. Her resistance is seriously compromised.

When she pulls the door open, she's already saying, "Listen, Tobias," but when her eyes find her visitor's, she slams her mouth shut. Oh, my. It's Giancarlo, the handsome young man from downstairs.

"Mi scusi. I don't mean to disturb, bella, but this message was left for you." He hands her a slip of paper, which she grasps in a tense fist.

"Thank you—I mean grazie," she replies.

"Okay, good night," I add,

"Bella Tris," Giancarlo says. "It turns out that I don't have to work this evening. Would you like to have a drink with me?"

"Tonight?" she asks. "I…I can't, not tonight. I'm sorry, it's just that I'm really tired," she adds sheepishly. "But maybe another evening soon?"

He looks like a dismayed puppy dog. "Okay then," he replies. "But soon, si?"

"Yes, soon."

When she closed the door, she read the note. From her travel agent, checking in to see if she was having a good time. She was. A good time with Tobias.

***PAGEBREAK***

When Tobias gets home after work on Monday, he can see that Tris is home. For once her curtains are open, and she's wandering around her living room, drinking a glass of water. She actually looks relaxed and happy, like she's just enjoyed a quiet day in Rome without a care in the world. He knows that he should leave her be, let her enjoy her holiday alone, unperturbed by the likes of him. But damn it, he wants to talk to her again. Wants to get to the bottom what's going through that gorgeous head of hers. He wants to be part of whatever it is that's making her look so content.

Besides, she said they could do friend things together, and he's not willing to let her back down on that promise. So he slips outside onto the balcony and makes his way over. When he's arrived, he knocks hard enough on her door to let her know he means business.

"Tris?" he calls out. A moment later she's poking her head out through an open window. When she smiles, it's like angels are singing

"Hey, Tobias" she says. Her tone is friendly, even bubbly.

Once he's slipped inside he stares at her, maybe a little too intensely. He can't help it; she's so damned beautiful. "What were you up to today?" he asks

"I went and did some wandering, shopping, you name it. Now I'm back, contemplating what to do with myself next."

"Well, I have a suggestion," he says, pulling out his phone to assess the time. "It'll be light for hours yet. Are you up for a little more walking?"

She nods. "I'm a little hungry, though."

"I can fix that," he says. "Wait here."

In a flash he runs over to his apartment and throws a couple of things into a plastic bag, which he then inserts into a small canvas pack and tosses the strap over his shoulder.

"What say I show you the Janiculum Hill? We can grab a bite on the way."

"The what now?" she asks.

"I'll explain as we go."

"Fair enough. I'm in," she says.

When they're out of the building they walk through Trastevere until they reach a favorite street of his, where he stops in front of a narrow restaurant whose sign simply says Casa di Pietro.

"It's a serious cliché, but is pizza okay?" he asks.

"Are you kidding? So much more than okay," she replies. "It's like you read my mind." She's smiling again, and it's contagious. He wants to kiss her mouth just to ensure that her happiness spreads to him and sticks. Of course, that would sort of break the rules of friendship, so he guesses it's not on the table for tonight.

"Let's grab a slice and keep walking," he says. They pop into the pizzeria. She gets a slice of margarita, he orders the prosciutto, and then as promised, they head towards the hill, their makeshift dinner in hand.

"Any new insights on Italian fashion today?" he asks.

"I have to admit that I bought a couple of things in the shops around the Campo de' Fiori," she replies. "It's hard to resist Italian clothing."

"So they tell me. By the way, there's one person who's sense of style you haven't assessed yet."

"Who's that?"

"Me. What does my fashion sense tell you?" He sweeps a hand over his torso, showing off his very casual outfit.

"Hmm," she says, stopping to press her index finger to her lips and looks him up and down. "That you have no money or self-respect?"

"At least I don't have any strategically placed mustard stains," he spars back.

"True. You're a veritable bastion of aesthetic perfection," she laughs.

They start walking again. "Seriously, would you take me shopping sometime? It's not often I get to take advantage of the services of a clothing expert."

She allows herself another smile as she looks him up and down. "Sure. But I was kidding about the slob thing, you know. You look very nice, actually. Your t-shirt fits, and your shorts are the right length. They show off your…muscular…legs."

As soon as she utters the words, her eyes start looking everywhere but at him, like she's hesitant to assess him any further. It seems that she's allergic to complimenting him.

"Oh my God," he gasps. "I think the seventh circle of Hell just froze over. Did you just say something nice about me?"

"Don't let it go to your head, Crazy," she says. "I meant it purely objectively." She tosses her hair behind her right shoulder, which is bare, bronzed from the sun and smooth. A sudden urge slugs him in the gut. He wants to kiss that shoulder. He wants to trail his lips all the way up her neck, to hear a small moan emerge from that mouth of hers.

"I promise not to let anything go to my head," he tells her. They're making their way to the summit of the hill now. Once they're there, he guides her over to the thick stone wall that divides them from the city of Rome below. He perches on its edge and look out at the vista. "There it is. Rome in all its glory. This is just about the best view in the city."

"Wow," she breathes. "It's so gorgeous that I can hardly stand it. There's so much history here. I can see the dome of the Pantheon, St. Peter's, the Palatine Hill…" She turns to face his way. "You're so lucky to have been here for so long. I'd kill for six months in this city."

"I know. I don't really want to leave, to be honest." she says.

"What's going on in that head of yours?" he asks.

"Nothing. You just reminded me that at some point I'll have to leave, too. I like it here, it's like an escape from reality. I feel like Rome has cleansed my soul or something."

"This is reality," he tells her. "Rome is real. And someday it'll make a nice, real memory for you. You can always come back, you know. It'll be here for a while. Eternal City and all that."

"True."

He flips open his backpack and extracts a few plastic containers, popping them open. "Dessert," he tells her, handing one her way along with a plastic spoon.

"What is it?" she asks, looking down at the slightly mushy-looking brownish goo inside the container.

"Tiramisú. It's an Italian dessert. Homemade by yours truly. Go on, you'll like it. As I recall, you like chocolate and booze, and this has both, so no excuses not to taste it, Tris."

"My kind of dessert," she says, chancing her first bite. "Mmm, it's delicious," she says, before taking a second spoonful. In true Tris nature she manages to get a dollop of cream on the tip of her nose. Fuck, he wants to lick it off so badly that unseemly things are happening in his shorts again.

He lets out a chuckle as he looks at her with that bit of off-white froth perched on her face. She's oblivious, even more innocent looking than before.

"What's funny?" she asks.

"Oh, just a little…" he strokes the tip of his index finger over the cream and pulls it to his lips, licking it off. "I seem to remember that you and food always made for a potent combination."

"Yes, I was always a pretty bad eater," she laughs, wiping her nose with the back of her wrist. For a moment she stares at him, her eyes revealing all sorts of secrets.

"What are you thinking?" she asks. "I mean, aside from the fact that I'm a total doofus?"

"I'm thinking it's really, really nice to see you," he tells her. "I feel like we're making up for way too much lost time. This friendship thing's actually pretty nice."

"Agreed," she says quietly.

"I have a lot to show you, so I hope you're okay to do more walking over the next few weeks."

"I like walking," she says. Something in her voice has changed, as though a nervous excitement has crept in.

"Good," he says.

Tris looks out over the city. "I wished I could pretend that I could stay here."

I'm pretending that I don't regret losing track of you all those years ago. Pretending that I'm okay with this just-friends thing. Pretending I don't want to kiss you.

Pretending that I don't want to take your back to my apartment and keep you there for a month. Pretend that I'm not in love with you.

***PAGEBREAK***

They had just finished dinner one night. "I guess I should head home," Tris tells him. "I'm still a little tired from the time change."

"Sure," he replies. But he's not moving; he's still looking into her eyes.

Risking everything, his right hand slips up and pushes a strand of her hair away from her shoulder. Her strap falls down, revealing bare skin. She hears him inhale a gasp that sounds an awful lot like pleasure, and she knows she's in trouble, so she turns away and pulls the strap up. Her core pulses with need as she stares into the distance, juggling all the reasons that she shouldn't have sex with Tobias. Things have been going so well. She wants to like him, but she also wants him to prove that he's changed. Or at least to prove that she has.

"Walk me home?" she asks, finally gaining the courage to look at him again.

"Of course," he replies. His lips move in slow motion as those two words come out, and somewhere under a couple of layers of cotton, her nipples turn into rock-hard beacons. Damn, those lips of his are magic.

She hops off the wall, landing on the pathway, and he pulls himself down next to her. For the briefest moment he brushes his hand over the small of her back and a surge of electricity shocks its way through her system. As he pulls away, his fingers slip down over her ass, and she swears that she can hear another sigh from his chest as he pulls away.

Their walk lasts about half an hour, during which he points out the sights as they head down the tall hill. The Forum, far in the distance. Mussolini's Palace. The Colosseum. He hasn't touched her again. He's trying, at least. Trying to give her the platonic relationship that she needs from him, and she appreciates it.

An outdoor museum, that's what Rome is, as she looks around. The daylight is waning; clouds of red, orange and pink thinning themselves against the sky like a canvas. Underneath them lies the exquisite Eternal City. "It's like a postcard," she says softly. "The best postcard I've ever seen."

"Isn't it?" he replies. "I've always thought so, too."

"I feel like photographing this and sending it to someone with the 'Wish you were here' message on it."

"Oh yeah? Who would you send it to?" he asks.

"No one," she tells him. "Anyhow, it's perfect. Well, aside from the heat. I think I need another shower."

"Nah. You're perfect too," he says.

"You're just saying that because you haven't smelled me yet."

Tobias stops in his tracks, grabbing her arm as he turns to face her. His features have gone so serious, almost stern, and he's staring at her like he's about to chastise her. "When we were younger, Tris, you didn't see yourself like everyone else did. You never knew how beautiful you were. I'm still not sure that you get it."

"I…" she begins.

"I'm serious," he says. For a moment she thinks he'll reach for her, take her hand, something. But he drops his hand to his side, resisting whatever temptation he might have to touch her again. Part of her wishes he'd stop resisting. If he makes the first move, then she can blame him when she gives in to her desire. "I hope you understand, now that we're older," he says. "I hope you look at yourself like you're looking at Rome and marvel at how beautiful you are."

"Of course I don't. That would be…"

"It would be perfectly reasonable, given that you make Rome look like a pile of dirt and rocks," he growls. "Tris, you're the most beautiful woman I've ever known."

"Tobias…"

"Don't," he says. "I didn't say it to make you respond. I said it because it's true. You're beautiful, and any man who gets to be with you is a lucky fucking bastard."

When they finally arrive at the staircases that lead up to their respective apartments, he turns her way and takes her hand. Oh shit, she thinks, it's happening. He's going to ask her to come up to his place, and she's going to say yes because she's fucking stupid and because she wants him so, so badly. His blue eyes are narrowed, hungry. For a moment he chews on the inside of his lip, assessing what he's about to ask her.

"Tris," he finally says quietly.

"Yes?"

"Would you come to a cooking class with me on Thursday?"

"What?"

Finally his lips turn upwards and he chuckles. "A cooking class. With me. Well, me and an Italian chef. I've been wanting to do it since I got here but haven't had anyone to take with me. Are you up for it?"

"Um…I…sure, what time?" she asks.

"10:30."

"Don't you have to work?"

He nods. "But I'm skipping out. I'm my own boss, remember?"

"Oh yeah. Mr. Big Architect. I'd almost forgotten. Fine, then. Come by and knock on my door, would you?"

"Sure. Oh, and there's one other thing," he says. He's still holding her hand, and he moves towards her, putting his other hand on her waist.

"What is it?"

"Would you reconsider the friends-only thing? Because I really, really want to kiss you right now."

Yes. Yes. Oh, God, yes.

He slips a hand up and pushes her hair back over her shoulder again, sliding the backs of his fingers along her skin. Fuck, that feels good. Her strap falls down again as if by command, baring the top of her left breast, and it's all she can do to stay upright.

"No. I can't."

"That's what I suspected," he says. "Goodnight, Tris."

****PAGEBREAK***

It's Thursday morning. As promised, Tobias shows up at her place shortly after ten to bring her to their cooking class. "The restaurant is only a few blocks away," he tells her. "A colleague of mine from work recommended it when I told him I had a friend visiting from the U.S."

"Restaurant? We're not cooking for paying customers, I hope."

"No. This is purely for us, Tris," Tobias says, throwing her one an amused smile.

"Do you know what we're going to make?"

"Something Italian, I assume," he tells her. "All I know is that I can't wait to eat whatever it is."

"Why's this area called Trastevere, anyhow?" she asks.

"Tras—across, Tevere—Tiber. It literally means across the Tiber River."

"That's actually pretty boring. I was sure it had something to do with poetry, or Caesar, or orgies, or something."

"No, that's a few blocks away, in Orgy Central," he jokes. "The Italians call it Il Orgissimo."

"If there's such a place, I totally want to go there."

"I'll bet you do, you naughty little vixen."

They meet with their instructor. And an hour into the cooking lesson, Tris leaps toward him and throws the flour, coating his face in white powder. A moment later he's laughing, wiping his cheeks and forehead off. He puts down the wooden spoon he's been holding and sticks his index finger in a bowl of tomato sauce, then pulls it out and moves threateningly towards her.

"Tobias, be nice…"

He pokes his finger towards her face. As she tries an every evasive maneuver she knows, he slips it over her cheek, laughing. She grabs him by the wrist, pulling his hand away. He's still got his index finger sticking up in front of her face. Hesitant, she stares at it for a moment, her mind racing.

Then, as if something's possessed her, she slips her lips over the tip and sucks the sauce clean off.

"Jesus," he gasps as his eyes lock on the sight of her mouth wrapped around his finger. When she's finished she releases his hand, and he grabs her face. He's going to kiss her, finally. The way he's looking at her, the desire in his eyes. She's seen that look before.

He moves closer, and for once she doesn't back away. She wants to feel those lips of his on hers. But at the last second, his face swerves around hers and he slips his tongue along her cheek, licking off the tomato sauce that she'd forgotten was even there.

That afternoon, Tobias guides her towards the famous Trastevere cathedral known as Santa Maria. They stop for gelato on the way, which she's quickly discovered is a daily necessity when dealing with the hot Italian sun. When they arrive at their destination, she's got a chocolate cone in her hand and is trying desperately to keep it from dripping all over her white dress. The church isn't so remarkable from the outside, but it's situated on the edge of a picturesque cobbled Roman piazza, complete with a beautiful carved stone fountain.

"There are over two thousand fountains in Rome," he tells her as they approach. "More than any other city in the world."

"You know so much." she comments.

"Ask me anything about this city," he says, turning her way as they both seat themselves on the hexagonal platform that surrounds the fountain.

"Okay. When was this thing built?"

"1471. Easy."

"All right. What's your favorite thing about Rome?"

"Also easy," he replies, but he stops there. She turns to look at him only to realize that he's staring at her, a sly smile on his lips.

"No, but seriously. What is it?"

"You. Sitting here, eating gelato in your white dress," he tells her. "That's my favorite thing."

He doesn't add "in Rome," and a tremor of pleasure overtakes her.

***PAGEBREAK***

The knock comes at Tobias' back door.

The only person who uses that entrance is Tris, but it can't possibly be her. She only left twenty minutes ago for her date with the famous Giancarlo, that lucky bastard. There's no way she's back already.

But sure enough when he opens the door, she's standing there, a funny little grin on her face. Still wearing that little red dress that plunges in the front, still looking like a goddess.

"What are you doing here?"

"Can I come in?" she asks, looking past him into his apartment.

"Of course." He moves to let her in. "What's going on? What happened to your dinner date?"

"My date, it turns out, wasn't what I wanted. So I ditched him," she says, still with that funny, indefinable expression on her face.

A feeling of bliss courses through his system. She ditched him and she came to him. Still not getting his hopes up, but he's got to say, he's feeling pretty fucking pleased with himself right about now.

"Okay, I need to hear about this. But first, you need wine, and I need beer.
He brings them their drinks back and sits down beside her on the couch.

"Why did you ditch the poor guy?"

"He's just not what I'm looking for." she said.

"Tris, look at me." he speaks the words low, pulling her eyes to his. "I have to come clean about something."

"What is it?" she asks. She's trembling, like she's waiting for a doctor to deliver bad news.

"I don't want you going on dates with other men," he tells her.

When she doesn't reply, he slips his hand over her left knee, easing it up her thigh under her skirt. This is it. This is the test. Pass or fail, he'll know very soon if there's any chance that they can be together.

"What do you want, then?" she asks, her voice a hoarse whisper as she watches his hand move slowly along her skin. She doesn't stop him, though. Doesn't protest.

"I want you, Tris. I want every part of you. I've wanted you for a decade."

"I've wanted you for a decade."

God, how many times over the years have she wanted to hear those words from between Tobias' lips?

"I don't want to be with anyone else, either," she tells him. "I only said yes to Giancarlo because I thought it might help me take my mind off you for a little."

The hand that's under her skirt pulls away and then slips up to her neck, tucking her hair behind his shoulder. Slowly he pulls her thin strap downwards. Another gasp locks itself away in her throat.

It's finally happening. His lips are on her shoulder now, laying gentle kisses in their path. She's weak—so damn weak with desire for him. Her right hand goes to his cheek and she guides him towards her neck, drawing her head back. He kisses his way up, one hand returning to her thigh. It's so gentle, that touch of his. She feels him pushing her skirt up again, skimming her bare flesh with his fingertips.

When his fingers find the edge of her panties, she lets out a gasp.

"Tris," he whispers, slipping a finger between the fabric and her core. "I want you."

With those words, his lips crash against hers for the first time in seven years.

The kiss is even better than the one she remembers. Tender, sweet, warm, delicious. When he finds her tongue, gravity fails. She's floating above the clouds, light as a feather, but he's still with her. Still kissing her, unwilling to let her go.

His mouth is still on her when he pulls her panties to the side and strokes his middle finger over her sex, finding her wetness. In one smooth motion he slips down off the couch, left hand reaching for her dress, pulling the top down to reveal her strapless lace bra. Tentatively he draws a finger around the rim of the left cup, pulling it downward to reveal a very, very hard nipple. He's staring at it as he pushes a finger inside her, eliciting a moan from between her lips. Gently he nuzzles her nipple with the tip of his nose.

"You're perfect," he tells her. "More now than ever."

He cups his hand around his breast and purses his lips around her nipple, sucking gently enough that she already wants more. He knows it, too. Knows how to get her going. He can read her like a book, and she loves that about him.

His fingers move to the other breast and he pulls at her bra again, drawing it down. Slowly he pulls his other hand away from her core and cups both hands around her breasts, pressing them together as he licks one nipple, then the other.

"I'm sorry to break it to you," he murmurs, "but I have a serious crush on these beautiful things."

"They like you, too," she tells him. "A lot. Especially that swirly thing you're doing with your tongue."

It's almost enough to make her come.

He lets her go, though, pulling away for a moment before he slips both hands under her skirt. He's looking up at her with the dirtiest, naughtiest narrowing of his eyes. She knows exactly what he wants, because she wants it too. So damn badly.

She lifts herself off the couch as he yanks her panties down towards her feet. She slips one foot out then the other, letting them fall to the floor. When she pushes her pelvis forward she's right on the edge of the couch, yanking her skirt up and offering herself to him, parting her legs wide. Slowly she lifts her dress over her head and toss it aside. Her bra follows close behind.

She's naked on his couch, offering herself to him at last.

He dips a finger inside her again, his thumb working her clit as he stares up at her. "Do you like this?" he asks.

"Yes, I do. But like is the wrong word. Totally inadequate."

He replaces his thumb with his tongue and she lets out a quiet yelp. Definitely inadequate.

"Tobias, you'll make me come," she protests, though she can't say she's strongly opposed to the possibility.

"And that's a bad thing?" His voice vibrates against her sex. Oooh, good boy.

"It's not," she replies. "But I want you inside me too, you know."

"All in good time," he says before giving her clit a gentle suck that sends a shudder of bliss shooting through her body.

She rams her fingers in his hair and pushes herself against his face, encouraging him as he eats her voraciously. All in good time. They still have almost a month together, and she intends to make good use of it. As she wraps her thighs around his shoulders he stretches his muscular arms up and pinches her nipples gently, driving her beyond insane with pleasure. Well, it seems that she's just discovered yet another of his talents.

Her hips dance under his touch, his tongue lapping greedily at her as he moans against her. She's all but convinced that he's enjoying this as much as she is. She doesn't need to cry out when the shock of her orgasm hits. Her hips thrust forward and he reads her perfectly, wrapping his hands around her thighs, eating her until the last shudder has left her body.

That was the best orgasm of her life, the most intimate, the most sensual. She's been waiting for it for seven long years, and it was totally worth the wait. After a final soft kiss on her bud, Tobias slips up to kiss her stomach, her nipples, making her body flinch with pleasure under his touch.

Finally he looks into her eyes. "Is it okay?" he asks.

"I'm on the pill."

He reaches a hand out, raising her to her feet, and guides her naked form towards his bedroom. When they're inside she turns to face him and watch es as he strips off his t-shirt. There's that body that she saw her first evening here. The ripped muscles, the perfection of his torso, his arms. She wants to touch him, but she waits. He's not quite naked enough yet for her tastes.

"More," Tris says.

He undoes his jeans slowly and slips them down, along with his boxers, stepping out of the garments when they've hit the floor. Her eyes are drawn to the iron rod between his legs, standing erect just for her.

"Tris," he gasps as though he's reading her mind. "I want to be inside you."

"Lie down." she says.

He obliges, lying back, his cock clenched in his fist. Slowly she climbs over him, kissing her way up his chest, her knees resting on either side of his taut torso. When her lips reach his mouth she slips her body over him, pressing her weight down as she takes in his massive length. She arches her back as her ass collides with his hips. A hard cry explodes from her, her eyes wincing shut with the pleasure of this moment.

His hands are on her hips, guiding her up and down, urging her to milk his shaft. "Fuck, Tris, that's so good," he moans.

She looks down at him, pressing her breasts together with her upper arms. She knows how much he loves looking at them, how much they turn him on. Her nipples are still tight little peaks, red and tender from his fingertips. Slowly she eases downward and presses one nipple to his lips. Hungrily he sucks as she fucks him, her body hungry for his length. Good boy.

She pulls away from his mouth and speeds up the pace, drawing her body up and down, faster and faster as she reads his face. His eyes close tight, his fingers digging into her thighs. She can feel him getting close, the muscles in his stomach tightening as he resists. She draws herself along his cock, then rams back down again.

"Oh fuck, yeah," he moans as she keeps up the pace. He's on the brink.

As if to confirm her suspicion, after a moment she feels a spray of hot seed on her insides. Tobias lets out a possessive roar, ramming himself deep inside her with one brutal roll of his hips. Then slowly, gently, she fucks him until his body subsides, and she ease her body down on top of his, her face pressed to his neck.

"Seven years," he whispers.

"Seven years," she replies.

****PAGEBREAK****

Warm rays of morning sun hit the tiled floor between the bed and the window as she lays facing towards the courtyard on her side of the bed.

Tobias' bed, that is.

A smile spreads over her face as it hits her that it wasn't a dream—this really happened between them. She and Tobias finally made love, after all these years.

Three times.

Her body's tingling with aftershocks and memories of his touch, his taste. She's had sex more than a few times over the years, but last night was something different. Last night was a release of everything she's held inside her soul for years. It wasn't just sex; it was forgiveness, acceptance, moving forward. It was the understanding that the world changes, and so do they.

Slowly she rolls onto her back, her face turning to look and see if he's awake. He's still next to her, and as he senses her movement, his eyes open sleepily. That sexy smile infiltrates his lips the second he spots her face.

"Tris," he whispers as he lays a hand on her stomach and strokes her gently with his thumb. "You're still with me."

"I am."

He edges over and lays an affectionate kiss on her forehead before laying a second one on her lips. Then he rolls onto his back and lets out a quiet yelp, thrusting a fist high into the air. "Yes!" he shouts.

"What's that for?"

His hands slide up to her breasts and he cups them, fingers and thumbs working their way to her nipples. He pinches them gently, hardening them with his fingertips. Oh, that feels good. "The greatest conquest in the history of the world," he tells her as his erection throbs to life under her. Carefully she pulls herself up and slips down onto his shaft. This has quickly become her favorite position. She loves to watch his face while she pleasures him and herself at once.

"I've wanted you forever," he breathes, his eyes closed as she rides him, her insatiable body ready to claim him for the fourth time.

But as his words hit her mind, she freezes over top of him. Forever. Really? If he's wanted her forever, then why did he treat her so badly that night so long ago? Losing her desire to be so close to him, she pulls herself up and off his cock, separating them temporarily.

His eyes pop open and he stares at her, confused.

"What's wrong?" he asks. "What is it?"

"Why didn't you come after me then? After what happened that night—why didn't you try to make things right?"

"I tried calling you, but when I didn't hear back, I thought you hated me," he says. "I thought you'd decided you didn't want anything to do with me."

"You were probably right. I did hate you."

"Sorry. I shouldn't dwell on it. Forgive me?" Tris asks as she sees the look on his face.

He nods. "You're naked in my bed, of course I forgive you."

"Just so you know, right now, I don't hate you at all."

"I sort of guessed that," he tells her, thrusting his pelvis upwards so that he rams himself deep into her core.

"I think you might be a little into me as well."

"You think?" Another thrust.

"Just a wild guess."

He reaches a hand up and pushes her hair behind her left ear. "You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," he says. "I don't care that things went badly back then. We're here together now."

"Yes, we are," she replies, speeding up her pace. They spend the next few hours making up for lost time.

****PAGEBREAK****

The first thing Tobias does when he sits down at his office the next day is check his email. There's a notification of a Facebook photo album from an old college friend, Gary, who was on the football team with him. The heading is "End of term party, May 2010."

Holy shit. What are the odds of receiving this message, today of all days?

He clicks on the link, which takes him to his account. His eyes are greeted by several dozen photos from the night of their party. The night he and Tris kissed.

He sees a photo of him talking to his friend Eric, his quarterback jersey adorning his torso. He can see everyone from back in the day, half-drunk, totally stupid and having a great time.

In another photo he sees his ex, talking to his friend Eric.

As he's staring at the strange assortment of memories, a gentle knock sounds at his door. He turns to glare at the visitor, who turns out to be Marco.

"Just checking to see how things are with Tris," he tells Tobias, shutting the door behind him.

"Very good," Tobias replies. "And check it out—an old friend just posted some photos." Quickly he clicks through them until he sees Tris' face. She's standing by the bonfire, a curious glint in her eye, like she's looking for someone.

"Is that her?" Marco asks, admiring her.

"Yes, seven years ago."

"I see why she's worth waiting for," he tells him, leaning in to get a closer look. "Nice ass."

"Watch it, man,"

"Mi scusi. I didn't mean to offend."

"Yeah, let's not talk about that. Listen, would you mind if I sent off a quick email before we get down to business?"

Quickly Tobias types up a note to Tris, pointing her towards the link to Gary's photos. He's made them public, so assuming that she has a Facebook account she should be able to look at them. Of course she might not want to, given that the party on the beach was so weird for them both. Still, now that they've found one another again, it might be good for an amusing look back on more innocent times.

Hey, Tris—thought you might get a laugh out of seeing us seven years ago. Sent you a link in an email.

I'm looking forward to seeing you later, Sexy.

***PAGEBREAK****

Tris has been walking around Rome for over an hour, she loves this city so much. She sits down to take a break and looks at her phone, seeing thatTobias had sent her a text.

She sees the link about the bonfire party, but she doesn't want to look at it, at a painful reminder.

For the next week, every moment when Tobias not at work is a moment they spend together. He takes her to the incredible, massive Colosseum where gladiators used to get eaten by lions. To the Catacombs. To the Vatican Museums.

When she sees the Sistine Chapel for the first time, her lover is clasping her hand in his. In a whisper, he describes to her how Michelangelo lay on his back for years, toiling over the amazing fresco depicting everything from the Creation of Adam to the Last Judgment. Hundreds of tourists flock around them, but as far as she's concerned they're alone.

He takes her to the Trevi Fountain, where sexy Anita Ekberg splashed around in a strapless dress in La Dolce Vita. Tourists get fined 650 euros if they try that these days, or else she'd be tempted to do it. But she doesn't need a fountain to feel sexy around Tobias. He makes her feel so good about herself every second that they're together that she's become all but cocky. A little gelato dripping down her chin is enough to get him going. A shy look. A kiss in the middle of a piazza.

For the first time in her life she feels like she's not just dating a man. She's in a relationship. A mature, adult relationship with communication, openness and so, so much sex. They're lovers in a beautiful city, and it's the best feeling in the world.

Tris smiles and kisses him in his bedroom later. "I'm starting to think everything that happened back then was for a reason."

Tobias stares at her. "What reason is that?"

"So we could be together now," she replies. "If we'd gotten together back then we would have broken up for some stupid reason or other."

"Agreed." He lays a gentle kiss her shoulder. "Look at us now. Enjoying a secret, sexy romance in Rome."

She lets out an adorable little giggle and throws her hands over her face. "It's all so crazy," she says. Pulling her hands away, she looks at him again. "You remember when we were kids and people talked about 'going together?'"

"Yes. If you so much as gave a girl a blade of grass in elementary school, you were going steady."

"Yup." She strokes a finger over his jawline. "Is that what this is? Are we going steady?" she asks.

"No."

"So what are we doing?" she asks.

"We're going hard," He replies as he picks her up to lay her on the bed to show her exactly how hard.

****PAGEBREAK****

Later they are laying in bed, Tris is tucked to Tobias' side. "My parents are coming to Rome soon."

"Oh?" Tobias asks.

"Yes, my mother wants to check up on me. My father is also a little over-protective." Tris said.

"I'm sure he is. I have a lot in common with your father." Tobias said.

"How?"

"We both love his daughter."

She won't scream.

She won't scream.

She won't scream.

"That's fine," she says, and she feels like she's hearing his voice from under water.

"I just said I love you and you're staring at me like a deer caught staring at a strobe light." "I…" He just said it again. I love you. He really said it. Tobias just said he loves her. "I love you, too."

It's the first time in her life she's ever said it to anyone other than her parents. "I've loved you for a long time."

He's got this look in his eyes that tells her he's serious. This isn't some fleeting, superficial summer fling to him. They really did somehow pick up where they left off all those years ago, minus the stupid drama in the interim.

"So you're not freaked out?" he asks her.

"Not freaked out. Are you?"

He shakes his head back at her. "I think I knew I loved you even back in the days when we were basically kids. It's why…" he stops himself, turning his face away, like he's trying to decide if it's really a good idea to keep talking.

"Why what?"

"Why I broke up with what's her name," he says.

"Nita. Wait—what do you mean, you broke up with her for me?"

"You didn't know?" he asks. For some reason he seems genuinely surprised.

"Hell no. I mean, I knew that you'd broken up but I never thought it had anything to do with me. I always figured you were torn about it. I figured that was why…" No. She's not going to mention the incident. Not going to rehash that horrible night. "I guess I thought you didn't care that much about me."

He props himself up on one arm. Damn, he looks sexy like that. Stop looking so hot when I'm busy being confused. "Is that why you ran away?" he asks. "You thought I didn't care?"

"Of course I thought you didn't care. After what I saw, I figured…"

"Tris," he says calmly. "I genuinely don't know what you're talking about. Seven years ago, I hoped to become closer with you. I wanted a relationship with you. I broke up with Nita to be with you. But you disappeared." He sounds so sad, so confused, that she almost believe him. Almost. "That's all I know."

"You're telling me that you were perfectly innocent? That you went over to the bonfire, grabbed a blanket out of your car and boom, the end?"

"Well, no. There was something else that happened. I looked after someone. Nita was…"

"You made an ass of me that night. I wanted you. I cared about you, way more than I should have."

"What do you mean?" he asks.

"I was in love with you, and I was going to give myself to you. Then you ruined everything. You made a fool of me then."

He stares at her, his mouth slightly open. "Tris. Oh, fuck, Tris…" he moans.

"So that's all you have to say," she snarls before she spins around on her heel and storms away. She goes to her apartment and turns on her laptop and logs into facebook and a few seconds later she's watching a younger Tobias in his jersey, having a drink and chatting with his friend Eric, another man about his same size and shape. He's wearing a white t-shirt and jeans. They joke around for a minute until Tobias eyes focus on something in the distance.

A moment later, she sees herself wandering towards Tobias, a big, dumb smile on her face. The video is over an hour long, so she fast-forwards for a time. Tobias and her have disappeared from the scene, presumably to go off and talk. A little while later he reappears without her, the bright number on his jersey reflecting the glow of the fire. He's running around like he's looking for something. But someone—Eric, his buddy—goes up and talks to him again. His body language is animated, like something's happened. Tobias looks concerned and nods. After a moment, for some weird reason, he pulls his jersey over his head and hands it over to Eric. He's still got a grey shirt on underneath

Oddly though, Eric whips off his own shirt before putting the jersey on. She can see now that the white t-shirt that he took off has some kind of stain on it. After a few seconds Tobias hands him something else as well, a small item that he's pulled out of his pocket. Then he says something inaudible and heads off in another direction.

Eric then goes over to a nearby log, where a young woman is sitting, looking disoriented and a little miserable. He pulls her up, slips an arm around her waist, and the camera follows them for a while. It's Nita, Tobias' ex. The woman whose face haunts Tris. Though right now, all she can see is a pitiful creature. A stupid girl who's had too much to drink.

She leans over and pukes on the sand—gross—and then she and Eric make their way towards the parking lot. Tris can barely make them out now because the parking lot isn't properly lit, but it seems that Eric is trying to walk a very out-of-it Nita towards a vehicle. She stops at one point, swaying on her feet, and plants a very drunk kiss on his lips. He helps her get into the car then slips around to the driver's side.

The car, of course, is Tobias'.

The camera pans over to a young woman standing in the distance. She recognizes herself, her face forlorn, the firelight illuminating her faintly. From the vantage point where she was standing, she gets how it is that she thought she was watching Tobias' form heading towards the car. After all these years she understands everything, in fact.

The jersey.

The ex-girlfriend.

All this time she's allowed herself to believe that Tobias did something awful, instead of thinking he could possibly have cared about her. She's thought the worst of him when he deserved the best.

He didn't mess up all those years ago.

She had!

She has to apologize to Tobias. She starts towards her door, and as she opens it…

"Tris."

"Tobias, I had it all wrong. I finally looked at the video on that page. I saw what happened. I was wrong about everything. You have to understand—that night on the beach, when I saw your jersey—I thought it was you—"

His smirk morphs into a smile. "Tris," he says, moving towards her. He isn't touching her, but for the first time, she's hopeful that there's a chance that he will again someday. "It's okay. It's all okay."

"It is? How can it possibly be okay?"

"When you left me, I was so fucking confused," he says. "I came home and looked at those photos and the video, too. I looked for every moment when you were on screen, trying to figure out what the hell you were so upset about, because honestly I could never understand what was going on with you. But I get it now."

"I thought he was you. All this time, all these years, I thought…" she turns to face him again, determined to be brave. Determined to be an adult for the first time in her damned life.

"Eric had my jersey and he was with my ex," he tells her. "I should have put two and two together way back then, but I didn't know you'd seen any of that. You have to understand, I thought you'd be exactly where I left you, down the beach. It never occurred to me that you'd see him back at the parking lot and think he was me. Nita got drunk and threw up on his shirt, you see. He asked me if I had a spare, so I gave him my jersey. The crazy thing is I'd forgotten all about it until I saw the photos the other day. That part of the evening seemed so unimportant compared to what had happened with you. I didn't care about any of it like I cared about what might happen between us."

"You gave him your car keys. I saw him drive off."

He nods again. "He took her home, made sure she was okay. I guess he had a bit of a thing for her. She was all over him, too. She was drunk as all hell."

"But…how did you get home that night?"

"I walked. Do you think I cared about not having my car when I'd lost the best thing that had ever happened to me?"

"I wish you'd said something when you left me messages…I wish you'd told me all this."

"I tried," he says. "I really did. I just wanted to talk to you. It didn't occur to me to explain about the jersey…"

But it wasn't his fault. She'd deleted every message before she'd even heard it. Every time his voice met her ear, it was an automatic press of that damned button. It wouldn't have mattered if he'd explained in the most graphic detail, because she wouldn't have heard any of it.

"You never lied to me," Tris says. "

He presses the backs of his fingers to her cheek. "I do love you, Tris. And I'm not scared to say it. Not at all."

"Even after everything?"

"Do you really think I'm as fickle as all that?" he asks. "I wouldn't give you up, not over some stupid misunderstanding. I knew something was wrong. Something was missing, a puzzle piece. But as soon as I understood it, as soon as I understood how much it must have hurt you seven years ago to think you were seeing me cheating on you…"

"Cheating? We weren't even together."

"As far as I was concerned we were," he tells her. "I was yours, Tris, whether you like it or not. My heart was yours, and it's yours now. I wouldn't have lied to you then, and I will never, ever lie to you now. I promise you that."

"I know. I see that now."

"Good. Listen, I have something for you. Something I was saving, but I think you should have it."

Oh, God. It's not an engagement ring, surely. It can't be. Even if they do love each other, it's too soon for diamonds. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a piece of paper, handing it to her. She unfolds it and stare, trying to figure out what she's looking at.

"It's…your house," She says. The drawing of the beautiful building that she saw on his desk in the office one day. Large, shuttered windows and a roof of ceramic tile. The design for Tobias' dream home.

"It's the house I want to build," he replies. "I've already made some inquiries about land in the Napa Valley."

"You're moving?"

"I'm hoping that we're moving. Together," he says. "I want you there with me when the time comes. You can open up your clothing store and I'll work from there. The thing is, I don't want to date you before we jump into a life together. We have a lot of lost time to make up, Tris."

"Tobias, this is my fantasy. Everything about it. The house, you…"

"It's my fantasy too. It always has been. I told you a while ago that you never saw yourself as others see you. You never did figure out how beautiful you are. Maybe now you'll start to understand how I feel about you. Maybe you'll figure out why it is that all these years I never committed to any woman who wasn't you."

"I'm finally beginning to get it," she says, laughing through her tears.

"You're not the only one whose heart got a little broken that night." The words come out of him softly, slowly. Her eyes study his, and she know he's being honest with me. But of course he is; he's always been honest. "I was always afraid to admit that I could be hurt," he says. "Men aren't supposed to feel pain. But it fucking hurt to lose you like that."

She throws her arms around him. "I'm so sorry, Tobias. I really am. For everything."

"There's nothing to be sorry for, not anymore."

He pulls back to look into her eyes, pushing her hair behind her ear. He kisses her softly, slowly, his hand trailing down her neck. When the kiss is done, she wants to laugh and cry and dance, all at once. To tell him that he's the only man who's ever meant anything to her.

"I love you, Tobias Eaton."

"Just remember who said it first," Tobias said.

Tris laughed as his lips claimed hers, as she had claimed his heart all those years ago.

And come the next Valentine's Day, they were married.

Tris always teased Tobias about that date, "You picked that date so you'd never forget our anniversary."

"No. I picked that day because I wanted to celebrate the romantic day of the year with you, every year." Tobias said.

"Every day is romantic with you," Tris said.

"What did I ever do to deserve you?" Tobias asked.

"You loved me."

The End.