Authors: Kristin Rae

Wish You Were Italian (33 page)

I gasp. “It’s Darren.”

“WHAT?” She rotates in her chair to face me, throwing her book down. “Freaking answer it! What are you doing?”

I answer the call and swallow, talking myself into staying calm so as not to appear psycho. “Hey!” I say, excited yet relatively restrained, considering who’s on the other end of the line.

“Hey, you.” His familiar, rough voice melts my insides.

“How are you?” I ask, cheeks killing me from smiling so hard.

“I’m great now. You? How’s your grandmother?”

“Oh,” I say, my shoulders falling. I catch eyes with Morgan and her smile fades as she tries to read my face. “She passed away actually. Before I got home.”

“Oh, Pippa. I’m so sorry.”

My chest is tight. “But … how did you know something happened to her?”

“When I went to meet you, Bruno told me what was going on.”

“Bruno did?” I ask, shocked. Morgan’s eyes widen as she deciphers the other half of the conversation.

“Yeah, he brought me to the apartment and had me copy down your contact info since we’re totally lame and never exchanged on our own.”

“Totally lame,” I agree. “I can’t believe you guys actually conversed.”

“Please, he’s my new BFF.” Darren cough-laughs. “So, what are you up to today?”

“Morgan and I are just hanging out by the pool.”

“Oh yeah? Hey, pass the phone to her for a minute.”

“To Morgan?”

“Yeah, I still need to thank her for making you that little journal thing.”

“Okay … hang on.”

I hold the phone out to her and she raises an eyebrow expertly. I mouth
he wants to talk to you
and she takes it from me.

“Hello? Yeah, I’ve heard a lot about you too.… Wha—Oh.” She holds up a finger, wraps a towel around her waist and whispers, “I’ll be right back,” before scampering into the house.

“Do you have to take him with you?” I shout after her.

I grunt and return to my journal. I write a few lines but it’s impossible to concentrate.

The back door opens again a few minutes later and I stand, fully prepared to wrestle the phone away from her. But Morgan’s not standing in my backyard.

“Hey, you.”

I blink. He’s here. Dark-red T-shirt, brown fedora. I blink again. The corner of his mouth turns up and I take off in a sprint, fly down the stairs of the deck, and jump into his arms, which he wraps tight around me.

His hand cups the back of my head and repeatedly strokes my damp hair. Our bodies sway back and forth, and I slowly slide down until my feet touch the ground. I take a step back to study him.

“You’re a hat guy again.” I grin. “But, that means—” I gasp when I pull the hat off him. “Your hair! You cut it!” I reach up and rake my hand through his subdued curls, more like waves now.

“I cut it for you.” His hands at my bare waist send shivers through my core.

“I liked the curls, you know.”

“You thought I had a perm!” He leans his head back and laughs fully. “That’s the very definition of not liking the curls.”

I giggle and shrug. “They grew on me. But this can grow on me too.”

I circle my arms around his middle and press my cheek against his baby-smooth face. “I’m so sorry I never got to meet you that morning.” My body shudders.

“Hey,” he whispers into my ear. “You don’t have anything to apologize for.”

“I was worried I might not see you again. And then when Gram died, I—” The threat of tears choke out my words.

“I’m so sorry.” He strokes my hair again and presses his lips against my forehead.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” I say, clasping his hand in mine. “Where were you when you left that voice mail earlier today?”

“Ah … I was waiting for my connection in Newark. I was supposed to fly home, but I changed my ticket for Chicago last minute. Like, seriously last minute. I was the last person on the plane before they closed the cabin door.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that,” he says. “I had your address, so I crossed my fingers that you were home.”

“Risky.”

“Worth it, though. Here we are.” He rubs his thumb along mine.

“Here we are.”

We move to sit side by side on the deck and dangle our legs in the water.

“Hey,” he says, waiting for me to look at him.

I smile as he leans in and presses his lips against mine. He palms the side of my face and I reach around the back of his neck, pulling him closer and hastily deepening the kiss, making up for lost time.

A little groan of relief escapes his throat. “I’ve been waiting for so long to do that.”

“Me too.”

“I missed your eyes,” he says, killing me with his intense stare.

“About that. Why did you say you’re afraid of green eyes?”

He chuckles. “I’m not afraid of all of them. Just yours.”

“Why?”

He meets my gaze head-on and inhales deeply. “Because when you look at me, you really
look
at me, like you’re actually listening and really care about what I have to say. From the first time I met you … I knew I was in trouble.”

“I think I knew too.” I lean against his shoulder, our legs entwined under the water.

“So, how did everything work out in the end? How did your parents deal with the subterfugery?” He looks behind us cautiously as if we’re about to get caught breaking the rules.

“I’m pretty much grounded until further notice.”

I steal a glance at the house and spot Morgan and Mom peeking through the window, but they back away as soon as I catch them. I’m surprised Mom is giving Darren and me so much time alone.
Thank you, Morgan
.

“Really? How bad could it be though, if Morgan’s here?”

“Oh, well … they’ve been a little relaxed because of Gram’s passing, but I’ve been assured once school starts my life will be all work and no play.” I kick my feet under the water and watch the surface swirl.

“Well, we better take advantage.” He pulls me in for another kiss and when we break apart, I’m overcome with laughter. This is
so
the opposite of how I saw my summer ending even just a few hours ago.

“You’re really here. I can’t get over it.”

“When I called and heard your voice mail greeting this morning, something inside me just clicked. I had to see you. Today.” He leans toward me until our foreheads press together, his fingertips trailing torturously slowly up and down each of my arms. “I tried all summer to talk myself out of liking you, to stay away from Cinque Terre once I knew you were there. Especially when I thought you might be with someone else. But I couldn’t. I want to make this work, Pippa. I know we met for a reason.” His breath is warm on my face as he whispers, “I can’t
not
be with you.”

I close my eyes and absorb his words. He wants to make this work.
I
want to make this work. It will. Somehow.

“You really like me that much?”

I hear him swallow. “I’m not sure
like
is a strong enough word.”

I lift my chin until our lips meet in a sweet, gentle kiss. And then I ruin it when I surrender to another giggle fit.

He leans away to look at me, alarmed. “Why is that funny?”

“No no no, I’m not laughing at you.” I stroke his wrist with
my thumb. “It’s just … I actually brought a guy home from Italy. This is crazy.”

He relaxes a little. “What do you mean?”

“Remember when I told you about that list of goals Morgan had me write out at the beginning of my trip?”

“Yeah.”

“Ugh, this is going to seem so stupid to you.” I pause to get the last bit of laughter out, preparing myself for what I’m about to reveal to him. “One of my goals was to fall in love with an Italian.”

The dimples pop in his cheeks before he draws out, “Reaaally?”

“I was going to fall in love and bring him home with me when summer was over. But I just had to eat gelato
before
dinner, and there you were, throwing me off course on my first day in the country.”

Now he laughs. “So I foiled your master plan, huh?” he asks, and I nod with pouty lips. “Am I that hard to resist?” He straightens, smoothing out the front of his shirt.

“Well, you kept popping up everywhere! How was I supposed to fall in love with anyone else?” My hands are shaking so I slide them underneath me. “It was a silly game anyway.”

“I don’t—wait.” Color spreads through his cheeks to the tips of his ears. “Are you saying you’re in love with me?”

Is that was I was saying? Am I in love with him?

I’m mute. All I can do is stare at him, soak him up.

Darren gets a spacey look on his face as he pats at the surface of the water with his feet, mumbling something that sounds like, “Oh, my parents are gonna love this story.”

“What?”

He ignores me and looks behind us. “That’s
the
journal on your chair, right?” He holds out a hand, demanding to see it. “Show me this list.”

I grab it and turn directly to the page with the list.

He takes it from me and holds out his hand again. “Pen?”

I eye him curiously but he doesn’t say anything, so I hand the pen over too.

He makes a humming sound in his throat as he studies my handwriting, then says, “
Ciao
.” When I don’t respond, he says it again and holds out his hand for me to shake. “
Sono Darren.
”

My eyes widen when I realize what he’s doing. “
Ciao. Sono Pippa
.”

He squeezes my hand. “
Che bel nome, Pippa
.”

I blush because I can’t help myself. He thinks my name is pretty. And I forgot how hot it is when he speaks Italian. “
Grazie.
”

“
Arrivederci
.”

I wave as if we really are going to part ways. “
Arrivederci.
”

Darren clicks the pen into action and strikes through “Have a conversation with someone in only Italian.” It wasn’t exactly my original plan, and it’s elementary at best, but it had a beginning, middle, and end. And summer’s not over yet, so I’m counting it.

The pen touches the paper again at the bottom of the page and I freeze as he draws a slow, thick line through “Fall in love with an Italian.”

I snatch the book from him and scan the list of my goals. “Why did you do that?”

He brings my face closer with a finger under my chin, diverting my attention to him, and gives me a swift but tender kiss.

“Because lucky for you,” he says, lips still brushing against mine, “I was born in Rome.”

I gasp and part my lips to respond, but he covers my mouth with his and slips his hands around my bare back. As I glide my hands into his thick hair, he pulls me up until I’m straddling his lap. He leans forward, holding me tight against him, and we crash into the pool, our lips never pulling apart.

Goals update
: