Bonus Chapter Giovanna
Giovanna
Past
I feel daring, sneaking away for an entire weekend from the itinerary of my trip to Sicily instead of going to my original destination.
The key word is alone.
Free for the first time in my life.
My family would lose their minds if they knew I lied, but I’m so tired of being watched! I’m nothing like Donatella, who nods at everything they say but, in the end, only does what she wants anyway.
I’m the youngest—the one everybody bosses around.
An adventure, I promise myself.
Two days here and then I’ll go back to being the good girl, the boring, predictable one, heading to the town where one of Mamma’s cousins is waiting for me.
I chose Catania as my escape route because there’s a beach I’ve been dying to visit. I can’t wait to dive into the sea or maybe just sit on the sand and admire the view of Mount Etna.
I check myself in the mirror one last time and feel pleased with my outfit: a white beach cover-up and flat sandals. Underneath, I’m wearing a one-piece swimsuit. Even though girls my age pick bolder bikinis, I don’t think I’ll stand out too much from the other tourists.
I feel sophisticated. Older than my nineteen years.
I grab my sunglasses, one of my tricks for hiding the embarrassment of facing people. If they can’t see your eyes, they don’t know what you’re thinking or feeling.
I walk to the beach, and when I reach the dark sand, I slip off my sandals and focus on photographing the volcano from different angles.
I lose track of time and jump when a powerful voice says behind me, “If you’re looking for the prettiest view, you’re pointing your camera the wrong way, bedda.”
Even before I turn to see who it is, my face catches fire because I understand what he said: he called me beautiful in Sicilian, which tells me he’s a local.
I don’t know all the words—they often differ from Italian—but I know the basics.
I turn slowly, regretting that I’m not wearing my sunglasses. I can’t take photos with them on, and now I have to face a stranger—a stranger with a beautiful voice, which, for my mix of shyness and social anxiety, is pure torture.
I don’t lift my head right away, bracing myself for the inevitable first contact that always leaves me feeling like an anxious fool.
He doesn’t wait for me to look up. Instead, he tilts my chin and forces me to meet his gaze.
“What’s your name?”
His touch burns my skin, sending goosebumps over my entire body.
I’ve never felt anything like it.
“Giovanna,” I answer, my heart racing.
He smiles, and that’s when I know I’m lost.
I have no idea who he is. He looks about the same age as my older brother, Tommaso. But there’s one thing I’m sure of: love at first sight isn’t a myth. This beautiful stranger has just stolen my heart.