Free A Little Too Much by Lisa Desrochers

close and I watch Alessandro disappear as the train whisks me away. I settle into a seat near the door and lean my head back into the wall panel, closing my eyes.
    I remember how everything changed for me with Alessandro. He was the first person in years who seemed to really care about me. He never hurt me. He kissed me on the mouth and he touched me so gently. He was sweet and tender . . . and I started to trust him. Then I started to need him.
    And then he left.
    I feel the sucking wound in my chest open up again as if it was just yesterday. As if I haven’t spent the last eight years forcing myself to forget it and move on.
    But I have moved on. And I can never go back.

 
    Chapter Six
    L UIGI’S IS ALWAYS packed and there’s only, like, eight tables, but we luck into a party that had two of them stuck together just leaving, so we and the couple waiting ahead of us score seats near the window.
    “So what are we talking about today?” I ask once we’re settled and the waiter has taken our drink order.
    “You.”
    I huff out a laugh. “Then it’s going to be a short conversation.”
    He rubs his forehead, then leans on his elbows and looks at me with weary eyes. “I have been haunted for eight years, Hilary. There’s not a day that’s passed that I haven’t wondered about you.”
    I feel my armor going back up and the claws coming out as I glare across the table at him. He has no idea what it means to be haunted. “I told you. I’m fine.”
    “I have to know . . .” The skin around his eyes tightens but he doesn’t break my gaze. “Did Lorenzo rape you?”
    I actually laugh out loud. “That’s what this is about? You think you owe me something to make up for your brother?”
    He just looks at me, because I didn’t answer the question.
    “No, Alessandro. He didn’t rape me.”
    Over Alessandro’s shoulder, I see the woman sitting behind him turn and look at me.
    “I know I can’t fix it if he did, but there are resources—”
    “He didn’t rape me,” I say again, lower but more slowly so he’ll hear it. Lorenzo was never the problem. I didn’t care about him enough for him to have the power to really hurt me. I pick up the menu and flip it open, refusing to look the person who did in the eye. “Are we getting pizza or what?”
    Alessandro blows out a sigh and the storm on his face subsides slowly. “What do you like?” he asks, and it feels ten degrees cooler when his laser-beam gaze lowers from me to his menu.
    “Veggies, mostly. And pepperoni.”
    The waiter comes back with our iced teas and sets them in front of us, and my eyes are drawn to Alessandro’s arms as he reaches across and takes my menu. As I follow the veins in his forearm, coursing over long, lean muscles to the rolled-up sleeve of his button-down, I catch myself envisioning that perfection all the way up, covered in a thin sheen of sweat as he punched the bag at the gym.
    “Are you ready to order?” the waiter asks, snapping me from my fantasy.
    Alessandro hands him our menus. “We’ll have a large veggie combo with pepperoni.”
    The waiter scribbles on his pad, then takes the menus. “Salads?”
    “Antipasto for two, I think,” he says with a questioning glance at me.
    “Fine,” I say, squeezing lemon into my tea.
    As I watch the waiter take our order to the computer and key it in, I feel Alessandro’s eyes on me again, but I’m not ready to look at him yet.
    “I need to know what happened to you after we left,” he says, suddenly intense.
    No you don’t . I narrow my eyes at him. “Why?”
    There’s a long minute where he doesn’t answer.
    “Listen, Alessandro, I know you have this whole major guilt thing happening,” I say, waving a hand in a circle at him, “but that’s not really my problem, you know? I’m seriously okay. Everybody has shit they need to deal with. I’ve dealt with mine. My life is really good. As a matter of fact, it’s great. So at this point, the only thing you could do