Morning came and I found myself surprisingly eager to get back to the Smithsonian and spend a day with Salvatore. I couldn't believe how fun it was exploring the museums that had become rather mundane to me due to so many field trips to them in the past. One thing about living near DC was that there was no shortage of places to go for school field trips growing up. Now that I was at the museum by choice, well okay...not at first, it was great. I was enjoying the fresh new perspective brought to me by the hot Italian house guest.

We got into my car-no convertible today-and took off toward the interstate, leaving just after rush hour traffic died down.

"I was thinking we should spend the day looking at art today. What do you think?"

"That would be good. I like art." Salvatore clapped his hands together, looking as enthusiastic and appreciative as he seemed to all the time.

"What's your favorite era?" I asked, curious to see if his knowledge expanded as deeply into art as it seemed to everything else.

"I enjoy many. Don't really have a favorite," Salvatore said. "Honestly, it would be nicer to go live the adventures that have been painted instead of just looking at them."

"You mention exploring and adventures so much," I said. "With spending summers in so many different countries you've traveled more than most people, Salvatore."

"Don't get me wrong. I'm fortunate; however, on those trips everything is organized and planned out. There's little left to chance. I'd like to go somewhere and not have to keep a schedule. That sounds good to me."

"That does sound good," I said. "I don't know about you, but my family always seems to have an itinerary when we travel-places that we have to be at certain times. You see great things, but something seems to be taken away when there's so much planning."

"What's an itinerary?" Salvatore asked.

He looked at me and I could feel my heart flutter. I wished I didn't respond to him that way, but I clearly did. It was a crush, I guessed. "An itinerary is a plan, a schedule to keep."

"Oh, in that case, I've had enough of itineraries myself."

"Maybe we should make today one that isn't so planned. We can just play it by ear and do whatever we want to help you learn your English better and experience some American flavor while doing it. What do you say?"

"Deal!" Salvatore's smile was so genuine and happy. The thought of that clearly sparked something inside of him. It shone through his eyes too, drawing me in like the light at the end of a tunnel might. "Watch out!" he suddenly shouted.

I looked and saw that the car ahead of me had slammed on its breaks. I slammed mine on too and stopped in just a knick of time. You have got to stop getting so distracted, I reminded myself. It would hardly be beneficial to get into a car accident with Salvatore, whose well being I'd been placed in charge of during his visit to the States.

"Sorry about that," I said. "I'm usually a good driver."

"I see," he said with a smile. I could tell he didn't believe me and then I remembered the honking horns yesterday when I didn't notice that the traffic light had turned green. No wonder he probably questioned if I really was all that great a driver.

"Honestly. I've never had an accident or a speeding ticket," I justified.

"That's good," Salvatore replied. He clearly wasn't going to tell me I was a great driver, finding some bit of amus.e.m.e.nt in the fact that I was trying to tell him I was and obviously trying to get him to verbally agree with me.

I continued on for a bit more, talking about my close calls. I suddenly realized that I looked and sounded like a b.u.mbling baboon and I shut my mouth, biting on my lower lip to prevent me from saying another word about driving.

"You look very pretty when you do that," Salvatore said.

I turned beat red at the compliment, not knowing what to say. Only a guy like Salvatore could say something like that and make it sound so utterly wild, so hot and s.e.xy. It had to be the accent; or maybe the alluring voice and sculpted body. He was the type of guy that could sell ice to the Eskimos, as my grandfather used to say.

"Thank you," I said quietly.

"I didn't mean to embarra.s.s you. Where I am from you tell someone when they look pretty."

I only looked at him and smiled. Honestly, what could I even say?

The art museum was so much fun. We looked at modern impressionists, contemporary artwork, photographs, sculptures, and a variety of different mediums. In one section, we went into a lively debate about what the abstract image represented to us. I saw a flower floating on a pond, but Salvatore saw a woman kissing a baby's head.

In another section I took a selfie of me with him behind me, making a face. It sent us into bursts of laughter afterward that caused more than a few people to glare at us, wondering what could possibly be so fun or funny in a museum. Well, there was plenty of fun for us to have and we were enjoying making the most of everything the day brought us.

I'll admit, I forgot all about English lessons during the trip, letting Salvatore's phrases slide. It made me smile to hear him say boggle instead of bagel; intersecting instead of interesting; and all the other misp.r.o.nunciations. I knew what he'd meant by them and he was going to be taking his cla.s.ses, starting tomorrow morning, to help with that too. Then my task would be done and I'd have my free time back. It didn't sound as great to me at that moment as it had seemed a few days ago.

"I'm starving," I said. "Do you like sus.h.i.+?"

"I've never had it," Salvatore said.

"Never? Are you up for trying it?"

"If you think I should, yes. Sus.h.i.+ is not American though."

"One thing about us Americans, Salvatore, is that we love many things that aren't American. We're the melting pot, you know. A combination of a great many things."

"My grandmother used to say that you could master nothing if you tried too many things," Salvatore commented. "However, it's good to experience many things."

"Exactly and I know the perfect place for you to experience Sus.h.i.+ for the first time."

It was pretty early, only about 3 p.m. when I pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant on the outskirts of downtown DC. Only three other cars were in the parking lot.

We sat down at the bar, where you could create your own sus.h.i.+ combinations if you liked, and I smiled at Salvatore, who was eyeing all the raw fish and other colorful ingredients up suspiciously.

"Is that safe?" he asked cautiously.

"Absolutely," I replied. "I've eaten sus.h.i.+ for years and it's always been safe."

"Okay. I shall trust you," he replied.

I went on to have the chef make some California spring rolls, some different combinations with salmon and tuna, plus a few "surprise me" combinations to try.

"Are you ready?" I asked.

"I tink so," Salvatore said instead of I think so.

I started mild, choosing the California spring rolls first. I put one on each of our plates with my chopsticks and then nodded that he should try it. I wanted to see his reaction so I had him go first. Not surprisingly, he was very good with the chop sticks. I watched as he picked it up, dipping it into the wasabi before putting it into his mouth.

Salvatore chewed, took a few bites, and then his eyes popped open wide. "Hot," he said, taking a large gulp of water.

"That's probably the wasabi," I said, laughing. I could see redness in his caramel colored complexion, which was instantly impacted by the wasabi.

"So Salvatore, what do you think?"

"It's pretty good actually," he said. "I'm not so sure about the wasabi though."

"It's an acquired taste. Has some kick to it," I said.

"Do you like it?"

"Yes, but I didn't at first."

"Let's see," he said, smiling mischievously at me.

I put a big chunk of wasabi on my spring roll and ate it down in two bites, thankful that none of it went on my chin or fell to my plate. Eating sus.h.i.+ could be a little tricky at times. Salvatore watched me, waiting to see if I'd react to the wasabi the same way he had. I wasn't going to give him the satisfaction though.

I smiled, saying, "Delicious." I played it cool, but the reality of the situation was that my mouth was on fire and I was longing for a drink of my Diet c.o.ke in the worst way. I couldn't cave in.

"You're stubborn," Salvatore finally said. "I can tell it's spicy for you, too."

Well, I was busted. With great antic.i.p.ation, I took a sip of my icy cold pop and washed way the lingering spicy taste that the wasabi had left in my mouth.

Before we knew it, it was 6 p.m. We'd been in the sus.h.i.+ restaurant for three hours, casually eating and talking about so many things. Both Salvatore and I were only children, which was very unique. His parents could not have children after him and they'd decided to count their blessings with one and leave it at that. My parents, on the other hand, had always wanted one child. That had always been the plan. It was kind of funny how that worked for people.

"Well, I guess we'd better head back home. It's getting late and you have school tomorrow," I said to Salvatore.

"Yes, it probably won't be as much fun as our adventures the past two days though," Salvatore said.

"That's really sweet."

"I appreciate you taking time for me. I know you didn't have to, but it was nice that you did."

"It was my pleasure. I was thinking that tomorrow afternoon, after you're done with cla.s.ses, we could go to the country club and do some lawn bowling. What do you say?"

"I say that sounds like something new to try. I like that."

"I'll try not to beat you too bad," I said, sporting my best trash talk.

"That is very kind of you," was all Salvatore said in reply. He had a smile that looked like he was ready to have me bring it on. And that's just what I planned to do.

As soon as we pulled on the interstate my car startled to shake and rattle, forcing me to pull over to the shoulder.

"What was that?" I asked.

"I think it's a tire," Salvatore said.

We got out of the car and looked at all the tires. Sure enough, the front pa.s.senger side tire was flat.

"Shoot! I hope it doesn't take too long for a service to get here to change it," I said.

"Service? I change it for you," Salvatore offered.

"I couldn't have you do that."

"Really, it's no problem."

"Well, okay then."

Without a moment of hesitation, Salvatore took off his nice polo s.h.i.+rt, exposing his s.e.xy torso in his jeans that made his b.u.t.t look perfectly scrumptious. He popped open the trunk and pulled out the spare tire, jack, and tire iron. I stood there, feeling like the damsel in distress watching my hero in action, but I didn't mind. I had no interest or desire to know how to change a flat tire. He'd offered and I was going to enjoy the show.

He moved quickly and adeptly, removing the flat and putting the spare on. Then he packed up the jack, tire iron, and loaded the flat into the trunk and we were off. It had taken fifteen minutes and he'd gotten dirt on his hands and chest from the ground and the grease by the tires. I found myself having to get us back home without being distracted by the s.h.i.+rtless man in my pa.s.senger seat. If he questioned my driving before, he'd really question it now if I got distracted. The biggest challenge I really had to deal with was a realization that came to me at that moment. Salvatore seemed to do everything with innocent, pure intentions, and I was somehow the one who was all s.e.xually charged up. Yes, despite having a boyfriend, I was experiencing a one way crush. Chase couldn't get back home soon enough and bring me back to reality.

Chapter 5.

Salvatore got back from his cla.s.s and I found him in the kitchen. I was excited to hear what he thought about his first day of cla.s.ses and ready to get to the country club for a mean lawn bowling tournament. It brought out my compet.i.tive side more than many sports because I was better at it than other things. I was average at tennis, decent at golf, but lawn bowling-that was where I was a maniac. I wanted to impress Salvatore and also beat him.

"What did you think of cla.s.ses?" I asked.

"They were okay, a bit dull after our outings. You spoiled me."

"Well, you'll get over that quick after I beat you at lawn bowling, but don't take it too hard. I've been playing a long time."

"Is that trash talk?" Salvatore asked.

I wasn't sure if he was really looking for clarification or if he was just trash talking me back, only more subtly.

"It's a fact," I said, laughing. "Well, you ready to go?"

"I am."

We walked toward the front door because I'd parked in the driveway there and I heard a knock on the door.

I opened the door, a.s.suming it was maybe a delivery, and I was right, but it wasn't one that I was expecting.

"Chase," I said, not able to hide how startled I was.

"Hey Taylor, I missed you so much," he said, leaning in to kiss my cheek. Then he handed me a big bouquet of flowers.

"Thanks," I said. I couldn't get anything else out.

"What's wrong? Aren't you happy to see me?" he asked, staring at Salvatore, who was standing behind me.

"Of course. I just wasn't expecting you for a few days. You caught me off-guard. I was just on my way out," I said.

"Hopefully you can change that," Chase began. "I have something special planned for us." He smiled at me and I knew exactly what that smile meant. He wanted to have s.e.x. Heaven forbid we catch up on things after not seeing each other for a few months first. "That sounds good, right?"

"Yes, of course," I said. Then I realized that I hadn't introduced Salvatore.

"Chase, this is Salvatore. He's staying with us for the summer. Our parents are work a.s.sociates."

"Hey sport, how are you?" Chase said, extended his hand.