Page 43 of Overtime Goal
A few hours later, we were set with a month-long villa rental in Positano and two first-class plane tickets. Riley whooped like he’d just hit a game-winning goal. “Woo hoo! Italian beach, here we fucking come. I finally get to see the world, and the best thing is I get to do it with you.”
Five days later, we touched down in Naples at about eight in the morning. We’d glimpsed Mount Vesuvius from the plane, rising in the hazy distance like something out of a dream. On the ground, the air was cool, filled with the sounds of heavy rush-hour traffic. We picked up the rental car and headed south for the twisting, hour-long drive to Positano.
The road had been cut into the walls of steep cliffs. They hemmed us in on one side, with a long, sheer drop into the sea on the other. The guardrails, when they existed, were strips of metal that wouldn’t stop a bike.
“You’d better watch the road.” I tried to keep my voice light as Riley leaned forward to get a better view of the drop. “As gorgeous as that water is, I’d prefer we not die in it.”
He shot me a grin. “Relax. I’m a skilled driver, and I can multitask.”
“Uh-huh. Famous last words.”
He turned his eyes back to the road. “I’d love to see you try this. You’d be white-knuckling the wheel and pretending not to look at the view.” He glanced at me again, longer this time, and my gut seized.
“Eyes on the road, Riles.”
He blinked, then turned his head forward. “Wait. Are you actually scared?”
I exhaled, trying to get my stomach to relax. “I’m not wild about mountain roads with cliffs on one side and no shoulder on the other. Especially when I’m with a distracted driver.”
His posture shifted instantly. “Shit. I’m sorry, Logan.” He tightened both hands on the wheel. “I’ll soak in the view from the house.”
The sweet, sheepish way he said it hit me in the chest. As quickly as that, the fear faded, replaced by a different ache entirely. His big hands gripped the wheel, and I couldn’t help admiring the curve of his mouth and how the sunlight caughtin his hair, transforming the brown into auburn. God, how I wanted to kiss him.
Positano looked like Roman gods had carved it into the side of a mountain. Colorful villas clung to the steep cliffs, stacked in tiers above the glittering Mediterranean. The sky stretched bright blue over the coast, and we gawked like the tourists we were.
The rental agent was waiting at the gate when we reached the villa. She greeted us as if we were actual celebrities, even though we were both wrinkled as hell from the plane and must have looked like we needed long, hot showers.
“This is Villa Accardi,” she said, pushing the iron gate open. “You’re going to love it.”
We followed her around the house and up the steep, narrow stairs to the terrace.
Riley whistled as he spun in a circle. “Holy shit. Are you seeing this? Did the plane crash, and we’re in Heaven?”
The terrace was bigger than some apartments I’d lived in. There were loungers, lemon trees in pots, and a dining table. Everything was quiet, and we’d undoubtedly have the privacy my travel agent had promised. The view dropped off into infinity. The tiled rooftops of the buildings below stepped down the hillside as if they were chasing the light, ending in pale sand and the vast cerulean sea beyond.
“We’ve seen it in photos,” I told the agent. “But they didn’t do it justice.”
She smiled. “You have full concierge access, and the housekeeper will come every day. As for food, Positano has some world-class restaurants. You can have groceries delivered, and there are wonderful little markets you might enjoy visiting. There’s so much to see here, but fair warning, you’ll find stairs everywhere.”
Riley elbowed me, snickering. “You’d better start stretching, old man.”
I didn’t answer because I was too busy trying to memorize the moment. Not only the place, but him. He was grinning into the sun with his arms flung wide, looking like he was trying to hug all the beauty.
The agent pointed toward the steps at the far end of the terrace. “Down those stairs, you’ll find a swimming pool and hot tub. The view is the same as up here.”
“I’ll never want to leave.” Riley’s grin was bigger than ever. “We really are in heaven.”
Inside, the house was cooler. The agent’s heels clicked across the patterned tile as she led us through the rooms, pointing out the whitewashed walls and arched ceilings. Wide windows let in plenty of light, and pale wood and soft linen upholstery added to the magic. It was a fantasy held together by sunlight and air.
After the agent left, Riles and I flopped across the white couches in the living room. As we soaked in the ambiance, he let out another long whistle. “This is the kind of place where rich people count their money.”
“Hmm. It does seem like it drinks sparkling water and speaks four languages.”
He pointed toward a long window. “I love how you can still see the water from inside. Feels like you could reach out and touch it.”
“It does,” I said. “This place is unreal.”
We sat there for a while, letting everything sink in, before he asked, “Should we bring in the luggage?”
