Kiss Me Goodnight in Rome (The Senior Semester Series Book 2) (20 page)

“Kiss you?” He turns quickly, knocking my hand away clumsily. “I don’t want to just kiss you, Mia. I want to fuck you. Have a good time. See where this leads. You and me.” He gestures between us. “We’d be good together. I don’t know why you’re acting like this, but I’m over it.” He shakes his head. “I’m out of here. You’re not the person I thought you were.” He turns again, walking a few feet away. Kicking rocks along the path, he curses and mumbles insults under his breath. I hear the word bitch clearly followed by a torrid of other terrible words.

Wait. Did he just call me fat?

“Pete?” I call out to him.
Do you think I’m fat?
I add silently, suddenly more concerned with his opinion of me than the fact that he’s angry.

He doesn’t acknowledge me. He doesn’t even turn around. And then he’s gone.

Does he really think I’m fat?

I open my mouth to call out for him. To explain that it’s not him, it’s me. That I don’t know what I want. But nothing comes out. I’m frozen, stuck. Pete’s harsh insults, his cold look, replay in my mind. Over and over and over.

He hates me.

He must think I’m disgusting and grotesque. Fat, obese, huge. Why else would he turn away from me with so much coldness, so much anger, muttering hurtful words the entire time?

I look down at my lap, watching as my thighs expand as I shift my weight. I can imagine the skin stretching beneath my jeans, the long, thin lines of silvery white that mark my hips and inner thighs. I clench my fists tight, digging my nails into my palms. Squeezing my eyes shut tight, I remind myself of everything I know, of the truths reflected in Pete’s eyes, evident in his cold tone.

You’re fat. You’re disgusting. You’re pathetic. You have no control, no discipline, no will power. You’re nothing. You’re not worthy of love.

A tear trails down my cheek and in that moment, I hate myself a little bit more.
Get it together, you fat bitch.
I look out to the empty, desolate ruins and feel just as broken, just as cracked, just as lonely and pathetic as these old rocks.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Lorenzo

“You want a ride home? I know we drove in together but I’m going to swing by Marissa’s. I can stop and drop you at home first,” Claudia offers, staring at her reflection in Angelina’s window as she touches up her lipstick.

“Nah, don’t worry about it. I’m going to walk,” I tell her as I turn the key in the door to Angelina’s, locking up for the night.

“You sure? It’s freezing out tonight.” She turns to look at me.

I shrug. “It’ll give me some time to think.”

Claudia looks at me curiously for a beat but then she shrugs. “Va bene. See you at home, then.” She snaps the cap on her tube of lipstick and drops it into her purse. She tosses me an air kiss and heads to her car parked on the corner.

I watch her walk away and make sure she settles into her car. I wait for her to drive away, raising my hand in a wave as she passes. Even though Claudia would laugh her ass off if I ever offered to walk her to her car, I can’t leave until I know she’s safe and locked inside. She is my sister after all.

I pull my hood over my head and shove my hands in my pockets. Shit, it is cold tonight. I walk in the opposite direction, suddenly eager to get home as the cold wind blows into my face. Damn, I should have taken Claudia up on her offer to drop me off, but I thought the walk, the crisp night air, the solitude would be good for me. Give me a chance to think.

About the fact that I have a freaking brother.

About having to tell Mama and Claudia everything that Rafaello shared with me.

About a certain brunette with big brown eyes and a soft mouth.

I’ve been putting everything off for far too long. It’s been over two weeks since I’ve met with Rafaello, since I’ve learned about Anthony.

And so far, the only person I’ve confided in about Anthony is Mia.

Jesus. I haven’t been able to get Mia out of my mind since our date. Since kissing her. I want to make her mine. But how can I do that with everything else falling apart around me? And she leaves in December anyway. Could I even handle the uncertainty that comes along with a long-distance relationship? And where could our relationship ever go anyway? She’s going to be in America; I’m in Italy. The whole thing is pointless.

I wonder what she’s doing right now. Partying with Lexi? Sitting at her desk reading? She’s a complete mystery to me. Still, I want to learn everything about her. Our date earlier this week was the best date I’ve ever been on. And it was the first time since I was about sixteen that I didn’t sleep with the girl afterward. Getting to know her, listening to her talk about her friends, about ballet, about her family, that was more than enough. And yet, even though she’s starting to let me in, I still feel like there’s something else, something just out of my grasp. I can’t put my finger on it, but I know she’s holding back from me. And for the first time ever, I want to be the guy,
that
guy, the one who helps heal the girl.

“Oomph.” My breath leaves me in a whoosh as I turn the corner and collide head on with another body. “Mi dispiace.” I grunt out an apology, reaching forward to steady the other person. Thin shoulders and a soft cry indicate it’s a girl and I feel awful for nearly taking her out. “Are you okay?” I ask, glancing down at the top of her head.

And when she looks up, the breath leaves me again. Because it’s Mia. And I can tell she’s been crying. What the fuck?

“Mia,” I breathe out.

She blinks several times, staring at me in shock. Her hands play with the ends of her hair, twirling her long locks into a bun and tucking it into her scarf.

“Hey,” she says finally, her eyes staring at my chest and refusing to meet my gaze.

“Are you okay?” I rub my hands over her shoulders and arms, genuinely concerned. It’s nearly 3:00AM. It’s cold and dark out. And she’s walking around the empty, quiet city streets crying. What the hell happened? The curiosity is killing me, and I can feel my temper rise, but I don’t want to scare her so I bite back my words and try and wait her out.
Please, just tell me what’s wrong so I can fix it.

“Um, yeah. I’m fine. Sorry, I … I gotta go.” She tucks her chin down and tries to sidestep me.

“Whoa. Wait a second.” I grip her shoulders, holding her tiny frame in front of me. “What’s wrong, bella? Why are you crying? Did someone hurt you? Scare you?”

She shakes her head.

“Mia. You can tell me. What happened, cara?” I breathe in and out slowly, trying to rein in my temper, check my anger. No need to scare her.

“I, um …” She tugs the sleeves of her jacket over her hands, curling her gloved fingers inside for warmth or comfort, I’m not sure which. “I went to the Tre Fratelli concert.” She looks up at me and tears swim in her eyes, making them shiny. God she’s beautiful.

Sensing this story could take a while, I pull her closer. “You’re freezing. Come on, let’s get a hot chocolate and you can tell me all about Tre Fratelli.” I turn back in the direction of Angelina’s, keeping an arm wrapped around Mia’s shoulders.

When we reach the restaurant, I unlock the door and flip the lights back on. It’s much warmer inside, and after a few moments, Mia’s fingers peek out of her coat sleeves. She sits down at a table and slowly unwinds her scarf from her neck, her hair spilling out, shielding her face from view.

I give her a few minutes to collect herself while I make two hot chocolates and grab a couple of biscotti. Coming out of the kitchen, I see her sitting at the table, her elbows propped up to hold her head. Something deep inside twists and clenches as I watch her cry. Whoever did this to her is going to pay.

“Here.” I place a mug in front of her. “It’s hot.” I sit down across from Mia, pushing the biscotti in her direction.

Her fingers play over the handle of the mug, but she doesn’t take a sip of the hot chocolate. Nor does she reach for a biscotto. Strange, Claudia can’t help herself from pigging out on chocolates or ice cream whenever she’s upset. In fact, éclairs are her go to. I take deep breath.
Patience, Lorenzo.

“Do you think I’m a cocktease?” Mia asks suddenly, her eyes snapping up to meet mine. Her face is surprisingly blank, although her brown eyes blaze with an emotion I can’t place.

What the actual fuck?

“What? No!” I answer quickly, leaning forward. “You’re the furthest thing from a cocktease. Why would you even think that? Who the fuck told you that?” My questions burst forth like rapid fire, not giving her a chance to respond. My hands clench, and I move them under the table. I can feel the vein in my forehead tick. What dick thinks he’s getting with my Mia?

My Mia.

Slow down, Lorenzo.

Mia shakes her head slowly, picking up the mug and raising it to her lips. She takes a small sip. Actually, I don’t know if she even drinks it or just smells the rich chocolate and holds the mug close for warmth.

“Mia,” I press.
Please answer my questions before I lose it.

“Pete,” she says simply.

That dumb fucker. I knew he was into her, knew it from the second I saw him. I don’t fucking like it. Don’t like him.

“Mia, why would you even listen to a guy like that? That guy is a dick, and he has no idea what he’s talking about.”

She nods again, but I can tell that my words have no effect on her. I lean back in my chair, aggravated.

“I think he called me fat,” she whispers, as if she’s talking to herself. She places the mug back on the table and stares at the rising steam, the dark chocolate.

I can’t tell what she’s thinking. I can’t place any of the emotions that swirl in her dark eyes. All I know is that Pete Buchanan deserves to be knocked the fuck out.

I lean forward, placing my hand on top of hers. Her fingers twitch gently as if surprised by my touch. Damn that guy for making her question herself. And why the hell is she still seeing him after our date? “Mia, did you go to the concert with Pete?”

She shakes her head. “He invited me.” She pauses. “But I went with Lexi. A whole group of us from school met up at the concert.”

Good, then it was a group thing. Not a date. She’s not dating Pete fucking Buchanan. Not if I have anything to say about it.

Mia looks up slowly. “Do you think I’m fat?” Her voice is a broken whisper. Uncertainty and insecurity roll off of her in waves. Gone is the confident girl from our date earlier this week. What the hell happened?

I stand up from my chair, walking around the table to Mia. Crouching down so we’re eye level, I pull her into my arms. She’s so tiny, frail-like, and shaking that I’m scared I’m going to break her. “That’s the craziest thing I’ve ever heard.” I keep my voice even, calm, controlled. “You’re beautiful. Perfect.”

Her eyes snap up to look at me. She’s quiet for several seconds, studying my features, searching for sincerity that for once, is actually there.

She shakes her head, tears welling up again.

I sigh, releasing her and settling back onto my chair.

Fucking hell. I bite into a biscotto. I try to make conversation with Mia, to understand more about what happened with her and Pete, but she’s checked out. Her eyes hold a bleary look of longing, a sadness that is haunting in its severity. After a while I sigh and walk her home.

Standing outside the green door, I want nothing more than to pull her into my arms, crush her against my chest, kiss her senseless, claim her and mark her as mine, but the vulnerability in her eyes, the sad slump of her shoulders holds me back. Instead, I brush a kiss across her cheek and wish her goodnight.

Chapter Thirty-Four

Mia

When I open my eyes in the morning, Lexi is sitting on the edge of my bed staring at me.

I jump suddenly. “Hi.” My voice sounds thick.

“Good morning, Petunia.”

“You know it’s creepy to watch people sleep, right?” I sit up, leaning my back against the pillows.

She rolls her eyes. “I wasn’t staring at you. Just figuring out the nicest way to wake you. You should be grateful you woke up before I decided on an evil plan.” She steeples her hands together, tapping her fingertips against each other like an evil mastermind.

I laugh. “How was your night with the hottie?”

“Banging.” She smirks, twirling a thick piece of blond hair around her finger.

I choke slightly on my laugh.

“The more important question is how was your night with Pete?” She leans forward, lying across my feet, her face propped in her hands. She bats her eyelashes at me flirtatiously. “Tell me everything.”

I groan. Pete. Just thinking about last night has tears filling my eyes again. I shake my head.

“What happened?” Lexi asks, scooting closer to me, her voice serious. “Did he do something?”

I sigh and relay last night’s events pertaining to Pete.

“That swine!” She exclaims when I’m finished. “I hope he gets his ass kicked.”

I nod in agreement. “I felt better after seeing Lorenzo.”

Lexi sits up at this news. “When did you see Lorenzo?”

“I ran into him on my way home. Like literally smacked into him.”

“And …?”

I shrug. “We went to Angelina’s and talked.”

“He really, really likes you. I was shocked when Gianluca told me he came to the door, even rang the freaking bell like some kind of altar boy, to pick you up for your date.”

“I don’t know.” I thought he liked me. But really, how could he? I’m fat. And, after last night … I was a pathetic, blubbering mess. Even if he did like me, I’m sure he doesn’t anymore.

“I’m serious,” Lexi continues. “Plus, there’s no way a guy like Lorenzo would sit and listen to a girl bitch—no offense—about another guy in the middle of the night if he wasn’t seriously into her.”

I tilt my head, thinking over her rationale. It does make sense when she says it like that. But still, how could a guy like Lorenzo like me? A fat bitch.

Lexi places her hand on the comforter over my knee. “Don’t doubt yourself, Mia. It’s unattractive.” She smiles.

And even though I know she’s kidding, there’s truth to her words.