Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 78001 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78001 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
“No! Please go for it. He seems like a great guy…maybe I’m just not in a good place or something? Anyway, I’m happy it clicked with you two.”
She smiles, obviously relieved that we had this conversation.
Lorenzo comes to find me later, in the afternoon. He knocks on my door, and for a brief moment I think it could be Noah on the other side. When it’s Lorenzo, I’m relieved. Ever the gentleman, he asks me how I’m doing and if everything is okay after last night. I promise him I’m fine.
He wrings out his hands. “Good. You’d tell me otherwise, right? Last night, you didn’t leave because of me, did you? I know I was talking to Gabriella a lot, but…”
I rush to correct him. “No. No. It definitely had nothing to do with you.”
He sighs. “Good. I would never want you to think I was like that. A player or whatever.”
I realize that the more Lorenzo talks and apologizes, the worse I feel. On some level, I appreciated his company the last few days. I wanted to enjoy my time with him out exploring the city. I wanted to use him as a distraction and maybe convince myself that a fling with him was just the thing I needed, but truthfully, I worry my motives were much more selfish than that. The moment Noah mentioned ground rules that first day we arrived, Lorenzo became a pawn, and for that, I feel horrible.
“I think, let’s just be friends, you and me, okay? Gabriella is really great though. I know I said it at the bar, but I really mean it—if you’re both interested in each other, don’t let me stand in the way.”
He smiles. “Yeah. Maybe. She’s nice.”
“And pretty,” I say, teasing him.
I don’t see Noah until dinner. I’m in the dining hall with Ashley, Gabriella, and Lorenzo. We picked a long table near the windows and we only sit down a moment before Noah walks in. I look up, see him, my stomach clenches, and I quickly avert my eyes, refocusing my attention down onto my food.
Please go away. Please go away. Please go away.
“Noah!” Lorenzo shouts. “Come eat with us!”
Chapter Thirteen
Lorenzo clearly didn’t read the room before delivering his invitation. The tension between Noah and me is palpable. If I stuck my tongue out, the air would taste bitter.
There’s no time for me to freak out though. I need to take stock of the situation, prepare, and execute. I have very few options. I can’t just get up and leave. I have a full plate of food in front of me I haven’t touched yet. I hang on to the small chance that Noah might decline Lorenzo’s invitation, but that hope goes up in flames as soon as Noah finishes loading up his tray and heads our way. He plunks his food down beside Ashley on the opposite side of the table from me, and I take a small victory in that at least.
We’re as far apart as we can be, which is par for the course for us.
Everyone greets him cheerfully, except me. I make sure my mouth is stuffed with salad.
In fact, I go right in for another bite before I’ve even fully swallowed the first.
I can’t be asked to speak if I’m constantly eating. So what if I choke a little and need someone to perform the Heimlich? I have a few spare ribs.
Everyone starts to recap their day. Ashley and Gabriella go on about the farmer’s market and then ask the guys about soccer.
“The kids could barely keep up with Noah.” Lorenzo laughs.
“Are you that good?” Ashley asks, curious.
I stab, stab, stab my lettuce, only stopping when I realize I’ve drawn a few curious stares. I let up a little, then when I can’t withstand it another second longer, I peer up at Noah from beneath my lashes.
He shakes his head, skirting around Ashley’s question. “I’ve just had a lot of practice.”
“He’s being modest,” Lorenzo insists. “The kids were really in awe. We’ll have to convince you to play again next week if you’re up for it.”
Noah’s freshly showered. His hair is slightly damp and doing my favorite thing where it curls up at the ends. It’s not long enough to form a ringlet, but it wants to so bad. He picked up more sun at soccer. His skin is getting tanner by the day. He was made for Italian summers. He should be on a yacht with an heiress. Meanwhile, I’m not allowed to go back out into the sun without a hat and SPF 100 coverage, minimum.
Worried he’ll catch me staring, I force myself to look back down at my food. The conversation has shifted and my silence must be getting a little awkward at this point because Lorenzo tries to draw me in directly.