Blood, sweat and tears; and money; that’s what it took to make tonight happen. Of course, I knew this from the very beginning, when I contacted the owner of my hotel, and asked him to send me pictures of his mansion in the suburbs. Almost his entire staff was quite talkative about their boss’s wealth, but they didn’t need to bring it up. There were two, aerial photographs of his place in the lobby. Frankly, they blew my mind, and had me wondering what it would be like to live there, just for one night.

At my meeting with him, he wasn’t enthusiastic with the idea of renting it to a stranger like me. His family lives in downtown Heraklion, and they only go there in late August, but still, I could understand his concern. “Tourists can go wild,” he said. “Give them a bottle of tequila, stand by and watch how quickly they can destroy a million-dollar house like mine,” All the same, once I assured him that I wouldn’t throw a party or get drunk, he started to mellow out. And, when I broke out my checkbook, his attitude changed entirely. We agreed on the price within minutes. One thousand Euros. It must be the easiest money he’s ever made.

Darkness has already veiled the city, when I sweep the backyard of the mansion. The underwater pool lights illuminate its calm surface. More, silver and blue lights are on every single wall. Still, I need to create a proper, romantic atmosphere. So, I leave two of them on. A blue one on the left and a silver one on the right wall. Standing in front of the gazebo in the middle of the yard, I marvel at the view. Thousands upon thousands of city lights are flickering in the distance, resembling a gigantic birthday cake. A strong breeze rustles through the cedar trees that surround the mansion, giving me the chills.

“Michael?”

The sound of Stacy’s voice on the intercom interrupts me. I shift my gaze to the monitor in the upper left corner. A blue Honda is at the gate.

“Yeah?” I calmly respond.

“What… What are you doing here?”

“I promise to explain if you come in. I’m in the backyard.”

At that point, I press the button on the panel, smiling to myself. The power gate lifts open with a clang, as I picture the look on Stacy’s face. I know what I’ve planned may seem a little too much for her, but to me, it’s an ideal way to spend a night. I halt in front of the gazebo, facing the dark living room across from me, with my guitar around my neck. I’ll be damned if I start off this night by explaining to her why I dragged her all the way up to the suburbs. Stacy slides the aluminum door open and steps out into the yard. She throws hurried, almost frightened glances around her. I don’t allow her a chance to utter a word. A downward strum signals the beginning of my performance. Within moments, melodious notes and the lyrics of one of my favorite ballads shatter the quiet of the night, sending waves of emotion right into my heart. My fingers caress the fret board, my eyelids sliding shut as I lose myself in the magic of Bon Jovi’s “(You Want To) Make A Memory,” I steal a glance at her glorious face, in the hope that she will appreciate what I have prepared for her.

Hello again, it’s you and me

Kinda always like it used to be

Sippin' wine, killing time

Trying to solve life’s mysteries.

How’s your life, it’s been a while

God it’s good to see you smile

I see you reaching for your keys

Looking for a reason not to leave.

If you don’t know if you should stay

If you don’t say what’s on your mind

Baby just, breathe there’s nowhere else tonight we should be-

You wanna make a memory.

I dug up this old photograph

Look at all that hair we had

It’s bittersweet to hear you laugh

Your phone is ringing, I don’t wanna ask.

If you go now, I’ll understand

If you stay, hey, I got a plan

You wanna make a memory

You wanna steal a piece of time

You could sing a melody to me

And I could write a couple lines

You wanna make a memory.

If you don’t know if you should stay

And you don’t say what’s on your mind

Baby just, breathe there’s nowhere else tonight we should be-

You wanna make a memory

You wanna steal a piece of time

You could sing a melody to me

And I could write a couple lines

You wanna make a memory

The echoes of the notes are still lingering in the air, the moment I open my eyes. Still, what I come across is far from what I expected. Tears are rolling down Stacy’s cheeks. She has put her fingers over her mouth, and stares at me in utter shock as another breeze tosses her hair about.

“If I’d known I was going to make you cry, I would have chosen something else,” I say, taking a few, steady steps towards her.

“Uh…” she sighs, dropping her arm. “Don’t worry, you didn’t. I love that song. I just…” she pauses, “thought of something. Michael, what is this? Whose is this place?”

“Does it matter?” I answer her question with a question of my own, setting my hand on the body of my guitar.

“Jesus Christ, Michael!” Stacy exclaims, her voice wobbly as she tosses a nasty glare up at me. “This must have cost you a fortune! Why did you do this?”

“You said you loved this song,” annoyance sends my own voice down an octave. “What do the lyrics say?”

“You wanna make a memory, you wanna steal a piece of time,” she tells me, another tear streaming down her face.

“There’s your answer,” I explain, narrowing my eyes at her. “What will you remember when you get back home? The sunshine? No. You’re from the sunshine state. You get plenty of that there. The beaches? I don’t think so. I mean there are two or three beaches here that can take your breath away, but that’s about it. Most of the ones in Miami are bigger and better. Clubs? Bars, perhaps? No. This…?” I extend my arms to the side. “This you will remember. I wanted to make a memory. And I don’t understand why you’re acting like this. You did agree to date me. This is a date, enjoy it.”

“Look, you’re really sweet, okay?” Stacy compliments me, her voice returning to its normal standards. “No one’s ever done anything anywhere near as romantic as this, but I’m a simple girl. Dinner and a walk on the beach would have sufficed. I’d have appreciated going to a dance club, too.”

“Way ahead of you there,” I say, pulling a small remote control out of the pocket of my jeans. I point it to the corner behind me, keeping my eyes on her. The wooden cabinet over the gate’s panel slides open sideways. A power chord and a slow drumbeat shred the silence, putting a hesitant smile on her face. She shakes her head in amazement, lowering her gaze. I can tell she recognizes the song I’ve selected. It’s Eros Ramazzotti and Tina Turner’s “Cose Della Vita,” I lift my guitar up and over my head, and set it down against a stool. Shoving the remote back into my pocket, I bow slightly before her as the Italian singer’s sensual voice fills the air.

“May I have this dance, please?” I request, offering her my hand. Stacy’s smile broadens, serving as a response. She interlocks her fingers with mine, and places her free hand on my shoulder. I snake my arm around her waist, relief pouring through my veins. Her intense reaction spread the seed of doubt within me. She gave me the feeling that she had no desire to stay. Maybe my rant convinced her to, I don’t know. Still, I’m not going to waste my time speculating. She’s there with me. I guess that’s all that matters.

“Michael…”

“Shhhhhh,” I hiss, intensifying my stare. “Now’s not the time for words.” I bend my knees, moving slightly after the beat. She follows after me, her sky-blue eyes sparkling in the moonlight. This eye contact intoxicates me. Every muscle in my body relaxes, as if I’m under the influence of a powerful drug. I lose the will to think anymore. For me, this moment is all there is. Bodies are clinging to one another, moving to a pulse that fits the beat. Wonderful music is talking right into our souls, and two, locked gazes are trying to convey every emotion that flows through us. Words are of no use here. They will destroy the electricity between us. I may have about a thousand things to say to her, but I know when to shut up, and silence feels like the best choice for now.

The last notes are still rattling the speakers, when Stacy eases out of my hold.

“Thank you,” she whispers, tipping her head down in a polite gesture. “That was…”

“You don’t have to,” I interrupt. “But, if you really want to, you can thank me by joining me in the pool.”

“The pool?!” exclaims Stacy, cocking her eyebrows. “How am I supposed to do that? I haven’t brought a bikini with me.”

“Again…” I give a happy snort. “I’m way ahead of you there. You’ll find one on the couch. I hope you like it.”

“Okay,” She says on an exhale. “Give me five minutes.”

I nod in agreement, delighted about her answer. I wish she was just a tad more enthusiastic, but it’s clear that something is troubling her, something she can’t – or won’t – tell me. In any case, I’m going to try and take her mind off of it. She can confide in me, but that’s not what she came here for. Neither will I pressure her into revealing whatever’s been bothering her. This night is about one thing and one thing only: Making a memory.

Stacy

A hurricane of emotions has been raging within me, since the moment I saw that backyard. That image flurried my insides, knotting and twisting them, sending me into a daze of confusion. I couldn’t define Michael’s gesture. It was romantic, yes, but was it too romantic? No, it most certainly wasn’t. The yard wasn’t filled with hundreds of candles. Neither had he paved the floor with rose petals. He had done the exact same thing I had found him doing on the night I met him. He played the guitar; the only difference was in the surroundings. Regardless of my opinion about his gesture though, he has put me in an impossible position. On the one hand, I want to storm out of that mansion and never look back. A real relationship between me his best friend and me may be impossible, but I can’t deny my feelings for him. On the other hand, I’m in the company of a handsome man, in a fantastic place that must have cost him a fortune. He has prepared this wonderful night for me, and I’d love to savor every minute of it.

I put on the red-and-white bikini Michael has bought me, still uncertain about my next move. And, as I step back outside, I realize that he has made this even harder for me. He’s already in the pool, facing me. Water is dripping from his hair, over his curly eyelashes and onto his lush lips. The underwater pool lights reveal his entire torso: ripped abs and a massive chest beckon, testing the limits of my restraint.

A heart of gold in the body of a Greek God… how in the world can a woman resist that combination? Keep it together, Stacy; and your distance, too.

“It looks fantastic on you,” Michael compliments once more as I make my way towards the pool. “I wasn’t so sure about the size, but I think I got it right.”

“Yes, you did,” I admit. “How’s the water?”

“It’s perfect,” He retorts, his chin brushing the surface, causing my heart to skip a beat. I wrap my fingers around the handrails, dragging my gaze away from him. I lower myself into the pool and move over to the left corner as liquid warmth engulfs my body.

“Why don’t you come closer?” Michael suggests, wiping the water from his forehead. “I promise I won’t bite.”

“How did you decide to learn to play the guitar? I pitch my voice higher, ignoring him.

“That’s …” he falters, dropping his head as he squeezes his lips together. “That’s a very long story.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” I shrug my shoulders, my voice coming out slowly.

“This, uh, friend of mine…” Michael starts, his gaze shooting up to meet mine. “He grew up with this girl, named Pauline. She was French-American. Her father was a military man. She had red, curly hair. Kids used to make fun of her freckles, but not my friend. They went to school together. They were very close. Anyway…” he sighs, floating closer to me. “He was just eight years old, when he saw this video on MTV. It was Bon Jovi’s ‘Always.’ He fell in love with it so much that he begged his old man to buy him a guitar. The kid learned how to play it but, when he went over to her place, he discovered they were packing their bags. Pauline’s father had been reassigned to Bosnia.”

“That’s really sad,” I comment, the darkness in his eyes breaking my heart.

“There’s more,” he claims, his voice thick with emotion. “About nine years ago, she moved back to New York. She showed up in the same surveillance company he worked at, looking for a job. He thought it was fate. They started dating each other. He’d never been happier. Eighteen months later, he proposed to her. She said ‘yes.’ Pauline wanted to tell her folks the good news in person. They’d stayed back in France. On the eve of their flight, he got appendicitis. He told her to go, and that he’d take the next flight out after he’d had that operation. But…” He stops narrating altogether and squeezes two tears out of his eyes. “Her plane crashed in the Atlantic. After they’d brought her body back to the States, the coroner told him she was five weeks pregnant.”

“Oh, my God,” I whisper in disbelief, his story sends my heart into a downward spiral. I can’t believe how two people who seemed to belong together lost each other like that. Yet, even in my state of shock, it’s clear to me who his so-called friend actually is. “There’s no friend, is there?” I ask him, my tone wobbly as tears rise up in my eyes.

“What gave me away?” Michael croaks, his reddened eyes snapping open.

“I’m so sorry,” I sniffle, regretting the decision to ask him in the first place. “I shouldn’t have insisted.”

“Nah, it’s okay,” he waves his hand in front of his face. “You couldn’t have known.”

“I am a little confused,” I confess, stepping nearer him. “Why did you tell me this? I mean, you could have just said ‘It was all because of a girl.’ You didn’t have to pour your heart out.”

“Take a look around you, Stacy,” He urges me, his tone calm and steady. “I’m in the house of my dreams, on a date with an absolute knockout. She’s more than just a pretty face. She’s smart. I just danced with her, and her eyes told me more than her mouth could in a month. It’s perfect in every way. I hate lies; the way I see it, lying to you would ruin everything.”

His last confession pulls at my heartstrings. A piercing ache emanates from my chest at the sorrow that I see on his face. I’m dying to offer him at least some kind of comfort, but I can’t force another word out of my throat. I just gaze upon him, admiring his will to make this night unforgettable for the both of us. He doesn’t let his own pain stand in the way. On the contrary, he confides in someone he barely knows, just because he wishes to be honest with her.

“Kiss me,” I urge him, my voice a breathless whisper as a tear rolls off his face.

“What did you say?” he breathes, his chest still rising up and down.

“Kiss me,” I repeat, more urgency creeping into my tone. I close my eyes, just before a gentle splash fills my ears. I feel a strong touch on my shoulders, pinning my back against the wall of the pool. Just then, Michael locks his mouth with mine, sending me into the sea of emotion that I’ve been struggling to avoid since I arrived at this place. I taste the saltiness of his tears, letting desire and sensation consume me. He has broken through the walls I’ve been trying to put up, and I’m powerless to stop him.