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care what his full name is.
    “Well, it’s nice to meet you, James,” I say instead, flashing a smile.
    We lay in silence for a few more minutes, eyes to the ceiling, just hushes of our breaths filling the room.
    He looks at me now and then, like he’s on the cusp of wanting to say something but doesn’t quite have the mettle to go through with it.
    I don’t know why, but even though we aren’t speaking it doesn’t feel awkward.
    It’s like we’re comfortable with each other already, which I know is crazy because I barely know him and from what I have witnessed, he’s way more egotistical jerk than beloved Romeo.
    But all the same, he does have me curious.
    “If you could go any place, anywhere in the world, where would it be?” James suddenly asks, very off character.
    I don’t hide my reaction.
    I look at him, confused.
    “Well, that’s a random question,” I joke.
    “No, it’s not.”
    “Yeah, it kind of is.”
    “Okay…just humor me then,” he grins, those vivid blue beacons shifting between the ceiling and me.
    “Okay, Venice,” I say emphatically.
    It was always going to be my answer.
    I’ve wanted to go there ever since I can remember.
    I saw a picture of it once when I was young: it was of St Mark’s Square at sunset.
    Even though it was partly flooded, there were still people everywhere. A few of them were sitting at a restaurant, with glasses of wine in their hands, and looking out to the gradual sun as it was sinking into the water.
    As I’d continued to stare at the image, I’d thought to myself: Wouldn’t that be nice?
    To just sit and stare out at something that beautiful, while the rest of the world carries on around you?
    “I think there has to be something magical about a place that’s built on the sea. I’d love to sit by the waterfront with a bottle of wine, peacefully taking it all in as the sunset hovers in the distance,” I tell him.
    James is watching me diligently, like he’s truly interested in what I’m saying and is waiting to hear more.
    “I also think that any place that replaces cars with boats, streets with canals, and newsstands with mask shops must be pretty awesome.”
    He waits another minute before speaking, glancing over at the wall like he’s trying to draw the city of Venice on it.
    “That does sound nice,” he says distantly.
    “Can I ask you a question now?” I ask, carving a smile.
    “Fire away.”
    “If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?”
    I know it’s a deeper question than his, but I’m intrigued as to what his answer will be.
    Thus far tonight, he’s come across as a rich, confident, cunning thespian, and I simply want to know if that’s who he really is.
    Not that it’s any of my concern.
    In fact, now I’m really thinking about it, why do I even want to know?
    He’s just a stranger to me and I’m just a stranger to him.
    That’s how things should stay, right?
    “I’d reverse time,” comes his answer, with a hollowness to it that pulls at my heartstrings instantaneously.
    I look over at him and see a wave of sadness in his eyes, a far cry from the narcissistic man who had approached me at the bar.
    “I’d stay in my hometown and get married,” he continues on. “I’d have the white picket fence, the 2.5 rug rats and the family van. Yeah, that would’ve been something…”
    There aren’t many times in my life where I’ve been left completely speechless, but this is definitely one of them.
    Have I misjudged this guy?
    Does this smooth-talking, faraway-eyed suit really have a soul somewhere in there?
    “You can still have all that,” I utter gently, trying to sound positive.
    But it has the opposite effect: I watch James get up from the bed immediately.
    Shit, I’ve actually hit a nerve.
    “Are you okay?” I ask, sitting up.
    How was I supposed to know he’d have that reaction?
    He shouldn’t have asked me a personal question in the first place.
    It’s his fault – not