TWENTY
AS IT TURNS OUT, two weeks in a secluded Italian villa in the middle of a vineyard is the perfect tonic for an overwrought nervous system. Well, that, plus getting the highest score I’ve ever managed in any psychology assignment. Who would have guessed? I’m so grateful and happy – I feel more relaxed than I have in years.
I spent the first few days of my holiday doing not much at all by the pool. Then Gio offered me the use of a state-of-the-art, carbon-fibre trail bike and helmet, and I’ve been out on it so often I’m beginning to feel like a local. I know, for example, about the row of cypress trees that border the eastern edge of the vineyard, stretching on for almost a mile. Beyond them is a dirt path, perfect for warming up the muscles before the terrain gets more rugged and the neat line of trees turns into a forest with a rough track that twists and dips as it dodges around roots and low branches before finally emerging on to a steep hillside with a breathtaking vista of golden fields rolling on towards mountains in the distance.
There’s a low mist hanging over the land today, but the air has that fresh morning taste that’s so pure it makes you feel light-headed. I take a deep breath, wishing I could keep it in my lungs forever. I’ve got into the habit of riding this trail every day before breakfast, partly to avoid exercising in the heat of the midday sun, but also because nothing tastes as good as coffee and pastries on the terrace after a morning ride.
I have company today. Gio and Lorenzo decided to ride the trail with me, though there’s no sign of them at the moment. I let them go ahead, giving them the same five second advantage Gio gave me when we went karting, but it didn’t take me long to overtake. My breathing is completely back to normal by the time they finally burst out of the trees and skid to a halt beside me.
‘Did you get lost?’ I arch an eyebrow.
‘I thought you said you only recently started biking again?’ Gio says, panting.
‘I did.’ I smile smugly. I wasn’t sure how good I’d be at the technical stuff after almost four years off, but muscle memory seems to have kicked in. I’m enjoying myself more and more with every ride too. The idea of not biking every day now makes me antsy.
‘In that case, you should think seriously about competing again.’ He’s still panting. ‘You’re really good at this.’
‘I have too much other stuff to focus on,’ I answer dismissively, though I’m pleased to see he can handle losing to me. ‘Term starts soon and it’s my final year.’
‘Can’t you do both?’
‘Leave her alone, Gio.’ Lorenzo gives him a shove. ‘Not everybody wants to race.’
‘I don’t like to see talent wasted, that’s all.’
‘It’s her talent. That makes it her business.’
‘Thank you.’ I throw Lorenzo a grateful look. Unlike Gio, he seems perfectly happy not racing. I only wish I could say the same for myself, but despite my protests I’m torn. Half of me is tempted, the other half terrified. I just can’t help remembering how it all finished last time …
I turn my head to find Gio looking intently at me. There’s a bead of sweat on one side of his face and I feel a strong impulse to brush it away, so much so that it’s actually an effort not to. He really shouldn’t be out here, risking an injury. The summer break is almost over and he’s due in Monza tomorrow to prepare for the race this weekend. I’ll be staying here for a few more days, then joining him later in the week with Helmut and Lorenzo for my third and final Grand Prix. Then, after that … I’ll go home. Contract effectively over.
We still haven’t discussed ‘us’. I get the feeling he’s been giving me space, but now I’ve had time to decompress and think properly, I know I can’t be his fake girlfriend or even his friend any longer. I’m still not sure how I feel about him, but the fact that I’m having such a hard time not touching him right now means I have to end this. The line between what’s real and what’s fake has become way too blurry. We don’t have to announce anything official, if he doesn’t want to; we can simply not be seen together and let people gradually make their own assumptions. But we can’t go back to the way things were before Zandvoort.
Now I just need to find the right time to tell him.
I’m still really glad I came. I’ve had an incredible holiday. I feel rested and rejuvenated and ready to face the world again. Adele, Tommaso and Giulia, who live close by, have taken me on a tour of Milan (leaving Gio behind due to the likelihood of him being recognized and mobbed), then on a trip to Lake Como, where we spent the entire day on a private boat, gazing at some of the most beautiful scenery my eyeballs have ever beheld. (Gio was allowed to come on this occasion, on condition he sprinted from the car to the gangplank.) The rest of the time I’ve spent biking around the estate, or lounging by the pool, or in the kitchen with Morena, making and then eating pastries and breads and just about every form of pasta known to man.
‘So, what are your plans for your last day?’ Lorenzo asks.
‘Well, I need to hit the gym, then I thought I might relax by the pool with Maisie this afternoon,’ Gio says, still looking at me. ‘If that’s OK with you?’
‘Sounds good,’ I say, trying to sound casual, though judging by the questioning look in his eyes, he thinks it’s time for our conversation too; suddenly my stomach is dancing with nerves.
‘In that case, I might head into town,’ Lorenzo adds. ‘Leave you two lovebirds alone.’
‘Thanks, fra .’ Gio still doesn’t move his gaze from mine.
‘But breakfast first,’ I say, gripping my handlebars when I can’t bear the tension any longer. ‘I’ll meet you back at the house in, what, two hours? Three?’
His eyes narrow as Lorenzo stifles a laugh.
‘Just try to keep up,’ I joke, shifting gears and leaving them in my dust.
‘HEY.’ I LOOK UP from my book as Gio, dressed in swimming trunks and flip flops, sits down on the sunlounger beside mine. ‘Good workout?’
‘Not bad.’ He places a chilled bucket on the ground and pulls out a bottle. ‘I brought us something. This is one of our best wines, a Franciacorta.’
‘Oooh.’ I sit up. ‘It’s not some family heirloom bottle you’ve been saving for years, is it? Did you stamp all over these grapes as a child? Are you expecting me to drink your foot sweat?’
‘No foot sweat, I promise.’ He pops the cork. ‘We have a machine now that replicates the process, plus this only needs eighteen months in the bottle. It’s a sparkling wine, like champagne.’
‘Well, in that case, grazie .’ I take a sip from the glass he’s just poured for me, feeling sentimental all of a sudden. ‘This reminds me of the night we met.’
‘Me too.’ He reaches a hand out, taking hold of one of my curls and drawing it slowly between his fingers. ‘These are so springy.’
I swallow as a thrill ripples through me. I had a swim earlier and my hair has dried naturally and curlier than usual.
‘Have you enjoyed your holiday?’ His voice is soft, his gaze still focused on my hair. ‘Has it helped?’
‘Definitely.’ I have to concentrate hard on keeping my voice steady. ‘I feel like myself again. Thank you.’
‘It was the least I could do.’ His gaze shifts back to mine. ‘Considering I got you into this mess.’
‘I agreed to the mess.’
‘True, but things haven’t quite worked out the way I expected.’
‘I guess not.’ I feel bereft as he releases my hair again, but it’s time to tell him my decision. It’s now or never. I take a deep breath. ‘Gio …?’
‘Wait.’ He swivels his legs over the side of the sunlounger. ‘I know what you’re going to tell me and I want to say something first, if that’s OK?’
‘How do you know what I’m going to tell you?’ I feel very aware of my own heartbeat suddenly.
‘Because sometimes I feel like I can see the cogs turning in your brain.’ He lifts his hand again, so that the backs of his fingers skim my temple. ‘I know things got weird and overwhelming before, but the way I see it we have three options. We can carry on the way we are. We can end this. Or we can give our fake relationship a real shot.’
‘What?’ I’m so surprised, I can’t process. ‘You mean …?’
‘I mean, why don’t we stop faking it, stop overthinking it, have some fun and see where it takes us?’
My mouth feels so dry that I have to lick my lips to speak. ‘But you said you only wanted to be friends? When you asked me to be your fake girlfriend, you said you weren’t ready for another relationship.’
‘That was then.’ He seems faintly surprised by the reminder. ‘Only things are different now.’ His eyes darken. ‘Don’t you think?’
I don’t answer, only stare at him while my brain battles for the right response until I can’t stand it any longer. ‘I … I need to cool down for a second.’
I dive into the pool and swim across to the far edge, then float on my back, spreading my arms and legs out in a star shape as I stare up at the sky. Half of me can’t believe that I’ve wasted so much time and energy over the past few weeks, reminding myself that our relationship is fake, trying to rationalize my feelings and ignore our chemistry, telling myself that we’re just friends …
The other half thinks his third option is incredibly tempting, but I need to not get swept up in the fact that I’m in Italy, far away from the press, and the weather is glorious, and the people are lovely, and the food and wine are sublime. I need to remember that two weeks ago my life was a complete mess because my feelings were so confused and social media is the worst. Now, I’m not confused any more, or I wasn’t until a few seconds ago, but I don’t want to end up feeling awful again once I go home. How much worse could the media attention get?
I’m still ruminating when Gio cannonballs into the water beside me.
‘Was that necessary?’ I splutter, as he comes back up to the surface.
‘Yes! I’m helping you to cool down.’ He grins, smoothing the hair back from his face. ‘I can see your cogs turning again.’
‘I can’t just not think.’
‘Fine. Only remember to feel too.’
I give him a sceptical look. ‘That sounds dangerous.’
‘It can be,’ he agrees, wading towards me. ‘But I’ve been doing things your way, thinking about us for the past few weeks, and I know what I want. All I’m asking is that now you try doing things my way. Use your heart, not your head for a change. What’s that telling you about us?’
I open my mouth to protest again and then change my mind. He looks so sincere, like he really wants me to try, so I close my eyes and let my mind go quiet, surrendering myself to the feeling of the water lapping against my body, caressing my skin in a way that makes me feel tingly all over. I wait for my heart to answer. It’s a weird feeling, letting go of all the worries and stresses and questions buzzing around my head, but it’s liberating too. This is exactly the sort of exercise we talk about in class, only now I realize I’ve never tried it properly myself. Emotions flood through me. Maybe Gio’s right. We don’t have to put a label on things … Maybe that’s what I really want. To just … be?
I open my eyes again and smile, and Gio smiles back, looking relieved, and then we’re moving together at the same time, his arms wrapping around my waist. Our lips touch and my heart skips a beat. No matter what else happens, I can tick that off my bucket list.
‘I’ve wanted to do that again ever since Zandvoort,’ he murmurs against my mouth.
‘Me too.’ I sigh. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘Because you said it was just an act and then accused me of trying to seduce you.’
‘Oh.’ I cringe at the reminder, but he pulls me in again until our noses bump.
I slip my tongue past my lips and touch it gently against his. He opens his mouth in response and then we’re kissing like we’re desperate for each other. He tastes of alcohol and chlorine, but the kiss is so good I don’t care. My head feels fuzzy and there’s a warmth coiling in my stomach, slowly unfurling and spreading outwards, making all of my limbs feel so heavy that I slide my hands over his shoulders for support. And then his hands are moving lower, until he’s clutching my hips and my legs are floating up around his waist, until we’re completely wrapped round each other. His bare chest is hard against my swimsuit, but he’s gentle, gentler than I am with my hands twining in his hair like I’m some kind of mythological siren.
I can’t believe I’m straddling a guy in broad daylight in his parents’ pool, but the combination of hot sun and cold wine and water has obviously gone to my head because I can’t seem to stop.
‘Mmm.’ I tilt my head back as Gio makes a deep sound in his throat and then bites his teeth into my swimsuit strap, pulling it down my arm. My pulse is pounding, and when he slides his lips lower, kissing me all the way from my throat down to the dip between my breasts, I moan with pleasure. I feel like if I don’t vent some of the tension building inside me soon I’ll explode.
And then he stops, tenderly sliding the strap back over my shoulder.
‘Gio?’ I lift my head again.
‘We should stop.’ His voice is gravelly. ‘I don’t want to be that guy.’
‘What guy?’
‘The kind who pressures you.’
I smile because I don’t want him to be that guy either. I’m really glad he’s not that guy, but right now I really want to keep fooling around.
‘You’re not pressuring me. I can make my own decisions.’
‘I know.’ He presses his forehead against mine, breathing fast. ‘And I know I said to follow your heart, but I also don’t want you to rush into anything you might regret. So take a little time, OK?’ He kisses me again, slow and lingering this time. ‘Monza is only five days away. You can tell me what you want then.’
‘Five days …?’ I whimper.
It sounds like an eternity.
SINCE GIO IS LEAVING, Morena and Helmut throw another big family dinner that evening. It’s equal parts fun and frustrating, since all I can do is sit beside Gio, our hands and knees touching under the table, when what I really want is to slide into his lap and kiss him all night long. I want to do all kinds of things all night long, but instead I have to say goodnight along with everyone else.
Only now I’ve decided to stop overthinking things and follow my heart, it turns out I’m more impulsive than I realized, which is how I find myself outside Gio’s bedroom at 1 a.m., rapping my knuckles lightly against his door. There’s no answer and I don’t want to risk disturbing anyone else by knocking again, so I turn the handle and peer inside. The lights are off, but the blinds are still open, so the moonlight shines through, illuminating the bed against the wall.
‘Gio?’ I whisper his name as I close the door behind me and tiptoe halfway across the room. Only halfway, because that’s when I realize this plan of mine may be a monumentally bad idea. If I startle him, he might think I’m an intruder and shout out or attack me or something. This is the problem with romantic gestures. They’re so cute and adorable in romcoms, but in real life there’s genuine potential for the whole thing to end in disaster.
Fortunately, it’s not too late to retreat. I can leave now and Gio will be none the wiser. If I can just tiptoe back to the door …
‘Maisie?’
Or not.
‘Yes.’ I shift my weight awkwardly from one foot to the other. ‘Were you asleep?’
‘Only dozing.’ There’s a smile in his voice as he rolls over and turns on a bedside light.
‘Sorry. This isn’t a good time. It’s late and you need your sleep, so I’ll go.’
‘I don’t think so. Come here.’ He pulls himself up to a sitting position and draws the covers back. He looks like he belongs in an American soap opera, shirtless and tousled, without a string of drool in sight.
I perch on the edge of his bed. I’m wearing a red silk vest and matching shorts, but unfortunately they’re completely obscured by my oversized woollen cardigan, which I only brought because a dressing-gown was too bulky for my luggage. I put it on because I wanted to look deliberately unsexy in case any of his family caught me sneaking along the corridor to his room, but now it occurs to me I should have left my frumpiness at the door. I doubt Iris Calver has ever worn a woollen cardigan in her life.
‘I didn’t want to say goodbye yet,’ I say, shrugging a shoulder in the hope that one side of my cardigan might slip lower, so of course it stays put.
I hear Gio’s breath hitch as he leans forward to brush a stray lock of hair behind my ear. ‘Are you certain?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then you should stay.’ His lips curve. ‘But you’ll need to take that jumper thing off. It’s too damn arousing.’
‘Very funny.’ I roll my eyes. ‘I didn’t want your mum to catch me wandering the corridors in my silk pyjamas.’
‘Silk?’ He unwraps my cardigan and tosses it on the floor. ‘Ohhhh. So they are. Mi piace. ’ He takes hold of my waist and pulls me into his lap. Instantly, my body trembles and my temperature rockets. ‘Dinner was torture.’
‘You thought so too?’ I’m pleased but distracted, because I can feel my pulse thud low down in my stomach and between my legs, and I have a powerful urge to start rocking my hips back and forth.
He presses his lips to the side of my throat. ‘All I could think about was carrying you back to the pool and finishing what we started.’
‘I thought you had a rule?’ I murmur, tilting my head back.
‘What rule?’
‘No sex before a race?’
‘Technically –’ his kisses move down to the hollow at the base of my throat – ‘that rule only applies to the night before a race.’
‘Oh.’
‘On the other hand …’ One of his hands slips under my vest and curves round my breast. My trembling increases. ‘We don’t want to rush things.’
‘Totally,’ I agree, kissing the side of his jaw. He hasn’t shaved, so it feels sexy as hell. ‘We should probably go to sleep.’
‘Any minute now.’
‘Because this is really tiring.’ I grind my hips against him.
‘Mmm.’ He pushes his tongue into my mouth and I push back so that we’re tangled together, sucking and tasting, kissing more and more deeply until …
‘ Merda .’ He pulls his head back abruptly. ‘I don’t have any protection. I didn’t think we’d need it.’
‘Shit.’ I open my eyes wide. ‘I don’t either.’
He groans. ‘I really don’t want to go knocking on my brother’s door right now. I’ll never hear the end of it.’
I nod because I’d rather he didn’t either, not when I’m going to spend the next few days alone with his family.
‘It’s OK,’ I say. ‘You were right, we shouldn’t rush.’
‘Hey.’ He reaches for my hand, pulling me back as I start to scramble off him. ‘Just because we can’t do that , it doesn’t mean we can’t do anything.’
‘What do you—’ I squeal as he flips me over.
‘Shhh.’ He laughs, pressing a finger to my lips as he rolls over me. ‘Unless you want the whole house to know what we’re up to.’
He slides his tongue against mine and then pulls away again, moving lower, and lower. I arch my back because I can’t help it, not when I want this so much and his hands and tongue are exploring their way down my body, cupping my breasts, sliding over my stomach and then pulling down my shorts.
‘I want to be inside you so badly.’ His teeth graze the inside of my thigh. ‘Tell me what you want.’
I shake my head because the way he’s touching me is stealing both my breath and my ability to think, so I show him instead, bucking my hips as he slides first one, then two fingers inside me. It feels tight for a moment, before heat ignites between my legs and courses along my veins in a scorching torrent.
‘I want to taste you,’ Gio murmurs, and by the time I process the words he’s already there, spreading my thighs wider and … Oh . Oh!
It’s not long before I grab the bedsheets and make a sound like nothing I’ve ever heard before. Sparks shoot through my body as every inch of me seems to vibrate with sensation. My vision is actually blurring, and I can’t quite believe how quickly this is happening as I come undone again and again.
Slowly, Gio moves back up the bed, though his fingers remain, teasing out the sensation as I finish quivering beneath him. His face is flushed and he’s smiling. Smugly . I don’t care. Right now he can be as smug as he likes because that was spectacular.
‘I don’t know about you,’ he says, laying his head next to mine on the pillow. ‘But I like the third option.’
BY THE TIME I open my eyes again, sunshine is pouring into the room.
Wait. I pause mid-stretch. Sunshine?
‘Gio?’ I bolt upright. I’m still in his bed, but he’s gone. Worse, the bags I noticed in the corner beside the door last night are gone too.
I lie down again, reach for a pillow and pull it over my head. Of course he’s gone! He said he was leaving early for Monza. He must have crept out while I was sleeping. Mortification sweeps through me. I can’t believe I came to his room, woke him up so he could give me the most intense orgasm of my life and then … fell asleep. I could cry with embarrassment.
‘Hey, sleepyhead.’
‘Gio!’ I hurl the pillow away at the sound of his voice. ‘I thought you’d left.’
‘Without saying goodbye?’ He places an espresso on to the bedstand beside me and crouches down on his haunches, reaching for one of my hands and kissing each of my fingers in turn.
‘I’m so sorry about last night,’ I say.
‘Why?’ He looks baffled.
‘Because I fell asleep on you!’
He chuckles and takes my little finger into his mouth, sucking gently before letting it slide out again. ‘There’s no need to be sorry. I’m taking it as a compliment.’
‘It was kind of one-sided.’
‘I disagree.’ He slips a hand round the back of my head and rubs his thumb against the nape. ‘If you’re thinking that I didn’t enjoy myself, then you’re wrong. I did.’ He grins. ‘A lot. Unfortunately, now I do have to go.’ He throws a regretful look at the door. ‘I’d invite you to come with me so we could continue this conversation tonight, but there’s no way I’d be able to concentrate on the track if I knew you were waiting for me in the hotel.’ He draws my face towards him, murmuring softly as he presses his lips against mine. ‘See you in Monza?’
I loop my arms round his neck because if he thinks he’s escaping with just a quick peck, he can think again. It’s a couple of minutes before we come up for air.
‘See you in Monza.’