Rewind and Play

2014

---

Alice

We hold an emergency council in the entrance hall. We can hear Samuel’s soft snoring, but we still speak softly as to not disturb him.

“Do you think he’s going to be ok?” I ask my relatives, and they must see how worried I feel because Daniela envelops me in a hug: “He’s going to be ok, darling. It’s just a back spasm. He’ll rest here tonight and uncle Gio will bring him home, or wherever he needs to go, tomorrow.”

I nod, but I’m shaky: “Do you mind if I stay?” I ask, because no way I’m going to leave Sami here by himself tonight. It’s my fault he’s in this state in the first place.

Daniela and Gio look at one another in a silent exchange I can’t follow, but I don’t care enough to be bothered by it. It’s so late I’m starting to fade fast, too. The adrenaline rush is subsiding, and all I want is to curl up next to Samuel and stay with him to see he’s ok through the night. 

“Sure, Alice. Do you want me to set you up in the spare bedroom?” Asks Giovanni.

“No, I’ll stay here, if you don’t mind. I want to check in on Sami.”

“Of course, darling,” says Daniela, her hand giving my arm a gentle squeeze; “it’s very late, so we will go upstairs, now. No alarms for tomorrow, let’s all rest, all right? We have a busy couple of days ahead,” she finishes with a tired, but happy, smile; “Holler if you need us.”

With a murmured “I will,” I turn and move back into living room, where I make quick work of my paint-splattered clothes and change into the soft, comfy ones my uncle gave me.

Assessing the situation, I discover there’s not much space for me to sleep on, really. That’s probably why Daniela and Giovanni thought me a little crazy in the head when I told them I was going to stay with Samuel. There’s an armchair, but it’s far away from Sami, who’s taking up most of the long side of the corner sofa. The best solution seems, to my tired brain, to occupy the very short side of the same sofa. Fortunately, I am not at all tall, so I kind of fit, as soon as I wedge my feet on top of Samuel’s.

As soon as I lie down, I feel so bone-tired. It seems like it was seven million years ago that we were doing maths on a spreadsheet.

But I can’t think anymore, because sleeps drags me under.

---

My brain is hazy, and when light starts filtering through curtains that have not been closed properly, my first thought is something along the lines of “Fucking Laura, she should know better!” Then, ever so slowly, I start to take in my surroundings.

Through my still partially closed eyelids I realise that I’m not in my house and my arms are fucking sore. Slowly, from the mist, I remember what happened last night and my first immediate reaction is to bolt upright to check on Samuel. However, I am very groggy, and very unfamiliar with this sofa, so I end up falling over like an idiot onto the floor in a tangle of my own limbs.

“Ali?”

The voice comes from somewhere above my head, once I manage to untie myself.

Not only I am a useless nurse, but the only thing I’m good at doing is waking up my patient.

I think that, maybe, if I stay quiet, he’ll go back to sleep.

But, of course, voice all husky from sleep, but persistent, Samuel says: “Have you hurt yourself too?”

An unavoidable giggle comes out of my mouth, but I say: “I’m ok. Only my dignity is hurt. Go back to sleep. Are you ok?” I also ask, contradicting the four previous words I uttered.

“I think I might need some more of those pills, but the pain is much better than before.”

I get up on my knees to get a good look at him: Samuel barely moved in the last couple of hours; his long frame is still lying Tutankhamun-style on the sofa.

His eyes are open and he’s looking at me with a tired smile. His hair is all over the place, and the bags under his eyes denote that he probably hasn’t had enough sleep. It’s very unfair, but he still looks gorgeous. I fill my boots looking at him in the quiet peace of the just barely there morning.

Samuel’s takes my hand gently and puts on top of his sternum, covering it with his: “Thanks for taking care of me, Alice.”

His hand his warm, and I can hear his heart beating steadily under mine. It is suddenly exceedingly warm in here, and I can only mumble: “I actually feel terribly guilty for basically causing your injury, Samuel. Don’t thank me for doing the bare minimum any decent human being would do for another human being in distress.”

“I would have helped you even on one leg, so don’t feel guilty. But if you want to feel better, some more of those pills you gave me look interesting right now…”

Once I bring back a glass of water and more painkillers, which he downs with my help, Samuel starts moving, which prompts me to whisper-shout: “What do you think you are doing?”

He moves, ever so slowly, until his back is leaning on the flat side of the sofa, leaving plenty of space for another person in front of him.

“Can I ask you a favour?” He asks, patting the space he just freed.

“Let’s hear it,” I say, sitting down next to him carefully; “Are you sure you shouldn’t be on your back?”

“I’m ok enough that I can stay on one side, if I don’t move too much. Could you pull the curtains closed and stick around for a while longer? We’ve only slept for three hours…”

A mix of affection and worry tugs at my heart: “Of course, Sami; I wouldn’t leave you like this.”

I get up and pull the curtains tight. The room falls into a marginally darker state.

I pad to the sofa and I am just about to sit at its feet, when Samuel grabs my wrist gently and pulls me down next to him: “This ok?” he asks drowsily.

No, absolutely not, in principle. All those warning bells are doing overtime. But I am too tired to be anything but grateful to feel his heat behind me, so I murmur “Perfect,” and almost immediately fall asleep.

---

Next time I wake up, the room is brighter, and so is my brain. I am curled up, small spoon to Samuel’s big one. His arm is enveloping me and his hand has found its way to my bare skin, where it’s pressing me close. I’ve slept enough that I am now, suddenly, fully awake and aware of the feel of it on me, of the way my stupid body is reacting to the proximity. I struggle to keep still, because part of me would love to bolt, another, naughtier, to wiggle closer to him.

Under the scent of my uncle’s clothes, I smell Samuel. Burning wood, exactly like when we were teenagers.

I know that he’s awake when I notice his breathing is no longer the deep, steady one of sleep. It’s like we are in a still frame, I can see some motes of dust sparkling in the tiny shaft of life coming in through the curtain. I am not at home, but it feels like it, in Samuel’s arms. It’s a very precarious, fragile moment.

“How are you feeling?” I ask in a whisper.

“Better, I’ll be able to move in a jiffy,” comes the reply from behind, Samuel whispering in an attempt not to break the spell.

“I admire your optimism. I have known board planks less stiff than you,” I can’t help but joke.

A puff of breath touches my nape when he chuckles low, and goosebumps erupt across my arm. We lapse into a silence that is suddenly hyper charged with tension.

Samuel’s hand is still on my belly, and the contact makes me feel like I’m a Christmas tree and I’ve just been lit up.

I can’t help it when my body moves against Samuel’s, effectively bringing us closer. He inhales sharply, pressing me tighter against his front. I feel things I shouldn’t, like his erection, nestled between my buttocks. His nose grazes that sensitive spot behind my ear, and it’s my turn to expel a tremulous sigh. He swallows.

His hand moves a tiny bit, making a micro-movement, almost an involuntary flex, toward the band of my pants. All rationality flies out of my brain and I am about to do something I’m sure I’ll regret, when my phone rings.

“One day I will fucking throw it out of the window,” grumbles Samuel, voice gravelly. But it’s good. The spell is broken. Yay, I suppose?

Slowly, I move away from his warmth and extend the arm to pick up the phone I left somewhere on the floor some hours ago.

“Do you know what time is it?” asks Anna, sounding furious.

I squint at the phone: “Almost eleven?”

“What has happened to you? Are you ok?” The voice swings from anger to worry, but remains firmly in angry-camp.

I wreck my head about it for a second, but then I remember texting her before passing out: “I told you in the message, mom. We stayed at Daniela’s when Samuel hurt his back.”

“Oh, I am sure that’s the reason.”

The snarky remark feels like a slap to the face and all of a sudden, I am actually awake, and very angry, at that. I am no longer a teenager, and, in any case, nothing will happen between us (don’t think of that hand, don’t think of that hand…), but it is certainly not Anna’s business to throw assumptions like that around: “I probably won’t see you today, I will hang around to finish the preparation for the weekend. Talk tomorrow.”

And I hang up.

I have slid onto the floor, and that’s where Samuel’s hand finds me and gives me a couple of pity pats on the head.

Since I am wide awake now, I proceed to ring the only person I would trust not to freak out if I say I just spent the night wrapped up by Samuel.

“Good morning, darling, what did I do to deserve a lunchtime call?”

“Hey Jon… I’m really sorry to bother you like this, but I need a quick consultation.”

Jon has started to study medicine in college, but dropped out because he found it “boring”. He went on to study finance, of all things, but he’s still my personal GP. I summarise what happened and Jon confirms Samuel will be ok with rest and some meds.

“It is said massaging the back can help, too,” he adds, sleazily; “I wouldn’t mind giving the stud a massage my…”

“Thanks Jon! You are a star!” I chirp, and hung up.

When I turn, Samuel has managed to prop himself up on the sofa and he’s looking at me, mouth quirked to one side.

“I know full well who was the one calling first, but who did you call after, and why are you suddenly red in the face? I couldn’t really understand what you were saying, but you said my name a couple of times…”

“It’s a friend of mine from Madrid, Jon. He’s eh… a character. But he knows a little about back stuff.”

“I wouldn’t mind meeting him. If he’s your friend, he must be nice.”

“He is. I love him dearly, except when he’s a horny whore.”

Samuel laughs gingerly, trying not to move: “Anna, however, has never changed, has she?”

“Yeah.” I take a couple of deep breaths and then I decide that I need to rise above.

So, I turn to Samuel and inspect him: “You do look slightly less shit. Jon confirmed you only need to stay put and take meds for the day.”

“Thanks! ‘Slightly less shit’ is the way to my heart.”

“Will I go get my aunt? Do you want to go home now?”

“I wouldn’t mind that, but there’s no rush. Leave Gio and Dani to sleep a little longer, they deserve it.I will call Vittoria in a bit to let her know what’s happened.”

Seeing my confusion, he adds: “She knew I was going to see you last night, and I had told her I was going to stay at my place tonight, to work on something.”

There’s definitely something going on there, but it’s not my place to say anything, especially considering in what sort of compromising position we both were not five minutes ago.

Nodding, I ask: “Would you like some coffee, while we wait? I am not super familiar with my aunt’s kitchen, but that much I can do, I think.”

“Thank you, Alice. And thanks for sticking with me all night.”

Waving away the thanks, too embarrassed by them, I move to the kitchen and busy myself with a moka. While the coffee is on the hob, I walk back to Samuel and leaning on the doorframe I ask: “And are you a breakfast person, Sami? Would you like me to root something out of the kitchen?”

“I am one hundred per cent not a breakfast person…”

“… Monster!”

“… I am going to ignore that. Thank you for the offer, but I need nothing else, you’ve done more than enough.”

“I seriously doubt that, but ok.”

When the beautiful coffee aroma starts wafting around the living room, I go back to the kitchen and pour two generous cups of coffee; because I’m not a monster, I grab a croissant that seemed very lonely in a glass container on the kitchen table, and bring everything back to the sofa, perching on its edge.

We chat a little in hushed tones, while I stuff my face with food and coffee, Samuel holding the cup I gave him between his large hands. It’s so mundane, and I love every second of it, likely because I am so aware of its uniqueness. No way this is going to happen again.

Despite the fact that I don’t want to leave Samuel, however, I am very aware that I should get to the restaurant as soon as possible, to finish up with whatever we didn’t manage last night. It’s also much safer to spend the least amount of time possible so close to Samuel Marchetti.

I collect the two cups and bring them back to the kitchen sink to clean them up. Then, I make one big ball of the clothes I was wearing yesterday and shove them in my tote bag. I fish out Samuel’s phone from the back pocket of his jeans, which we put on a chair nearby, and crouch in front of him, balancing on his knees and handing it over to my friend.

“Here is your phone, so you can entertain yourself while you wait for Gio. He’s normally an early bird, so he’ll be down soon enough.”

“You leaving already?” Samuel asks, with a fake pout that makes him look delicious, despite the tired face.

“It’s better that way,” I reply around a smile. We are dancing around what almost happened. If I think back to it, its edges are dreamy. Maybe it was a dream.

Samuel nods, the playful expression on his face morphing into something that is a little sad.

“Come here,” he surprises me saying, and opening his legs, he lets me fall on his chest, holding me gently: “Thank you, Ali,” he murmurs into my hair.

“What for?”

“Waking me up,” comes the cryptic answer.

It feels so right, to be held by Samuel, to be holding him.

He releases me almost immediately, but when I look up and see his face so close to mine, something irrational takes hold of me and, before getting up, I press my lips to his.

It’s not a sensual, or long kiss, for that matter. It’s a peck, nothing more, but it contains so much that I’d like to say but don’t know how, really. My frustration, my confusion, my ever-growing feelings. Sami’s lips are a little dry and his beard tickles me. He smells of coffee and sleep.

I get up so fast that I almost get a head rush: “Let me know how you are getting on, ok? And tell the guys I’ll see them later,” I end up asking, getting up and, of all things, patting him on the head.

Samuel is still looking at me, a slightly dazed expression on his features, when I get to the door and all but rush out.