Chapter Five #2
My brother’s voice is explosive this time, forcing the capacity of the speakers.
“WHAT?” He chuckles, confused. “Why the fuck are you doing that?” Nick puts on his Dodgers cap, probably realizing he should hide the bad haircut, and leans forward, his nose, so similar to mine, almost touching the screen.
“It was her idea.” Jeremy points at me. I wave his finger away.
“It was an agreement because we both concluded we make sense together. Dad believed we were meant for one another, remember? Maybe he and everyone who ever thought we should date were right, and we just have to give it a try.”
Nick chortles, shaking his head. “Guys,” he says, calmer now, but there is still a smile on his face. “This is ridiculous. You’re just going to ruin your friendship. Don’t do that.”
“Why is it so impossible to believe it can work?” I want to cross my arms, but I’m holding my phone.
Nick rolls his eyes like it’s obvious. “There’s no chemistry between you.
Dad and everyone who ever said you should be a couple were just repeating what society expects from men and women who get along well.
You’re good together, yes, but there’s never been a spark.
Unless the two of you are lying traitors who never shared such information with me.
But I’m assuming not since you’re trying to fall in love.
” He scoffs, shaking his head reproachfully.
I frown. He’s making sense, but I’m too stubborn to agree. “We’re doing great, right?” I look at Jeremy behind me for backup.
His face is skeptical. “Yeah. I guess.”
Nick snorts again. “I just hope you’re still talking to each other after Venice.”
“We will be,” I reassure him and glance at Jeremy again.
“We’ll definitely not allow it to go that far. Friendship first. We’re just chilling and enjoying ourselves. No commitment.”
Does he mean he would be okay with me hooking up with someone else while we’re doing this project? That’s what “no commitment” means, right?
Why am I even thinking about this? In six days, I’ll be back in LA. I don’t need an Italian man I’ll miss.
They start talking about baseball. I stop listening. When we say bye to my brother, the terrace suddenly feels too silent and empty, as if just the two of us are not enough to fill it with life.
Jeremy announces that he’s going to bed. I tell him to take one of the truffles. Then he says good-night from afar and leaves.
He could at least have hugged me, couldn’t he?
I stand up, take the chocolate and the key, and leave the terrace.
When I’m at the door to my room, my phone dings, and I check the message my brother has sent.
Jeremy is slow, Daisy. The only way to see if this would work is having sex with him.
I swallow hard and wait for the three dancing dots to become a new text.
But that would be risky. It could ruin the friendship, like I said. So it depends on how much you’re willing to bet…
My face heats up, and I lean against the closed door.
He is right that Jeremy is “slow.” He won’t touch me uninvited. It’s up to me to initiate, like Lorenzo said. But am I ready for the consequences? For the big change in the way we might see each other?
I don’t think sex is the only way. A kiss would be enough.
I picture myself kissing Jeremy. We told each other we could erase Venice when we got back. But will I be able to pretend I never had his lips on mine, his tongue in my mouth?
I shiver at these thoughts. Again, not in a good way. It doesn’t mean a kiss—or even sex—wouldn’t be great with him. All it means is that the situation is coated with fear and uncertainty. The experience would be life-changing—for better or worse. Irreversible.
I don’t want to enter my room and get lost in a spiral of worrying thoughts.
My legs lead me to the elevator. I tell myself I need to be surrounded by strangers and cheerful chatter while enjoying a glass of something sweet and alcoholic, and that’s why I’m heading to the hotel bar, but I know that’s not true.
The moment I see him behind the counter, my heart speeds like a hummingbird’s. He’s mixing a drink, and I stand from afar, looking at him, hoping he won’t see me.
He does, though, and when his eyes meet mine, my heart doesn’t simply race—it explodes in my chest.
Jesus. I don’t remember ever feeling this excited about seeing someone. What is this man doing to me?
His smile is discreet, like it should be in his work environment, but there is an undeniable spark of exhilaration dancing on his lips.
I feel so fussy inside, I can’t keep standing here.
My legs are jelly. I slowly walk to the bar and sense his eyes following me.
Pretending I’m not here for him, I sit on a stool at one of the corners and take the menu card.
There are more people around today. It’s nine, and it’s a Saturday. It won’t be hard for him to ignore me.
The gray-haired man two stools away calls Lorenzo, who sneaks a few glances in my direction as he takes the man’s order.
Our eyes meet, and it’s like being tickled in the stomach from the inside—especially when the corners of his lips rise in a meaningful, flirty way.
He prepares the man’s drink, and soon it becomes a game of staring and pretending you weren’t.
Whoever catches the other one looking gets a little smile and a delicious sensation around the heart.
Finally, he walks over to me and leans slightly on the counter with his calculated, spellbinding charm. I remain serious, but his smile vaporizes my resolve.
“How can I help you?” He uses his professional line, although his voice is full of devilish overtones. Today, he isn’t just service-flirting. He’s downright seducing me.
I notice the music playing in the background for the first time since I arrived. A familiar classical piece with violins…
“Vivaldi,” I say, looking at the speakers on the ceiling. “I guess you choose the playlist around here.”
His smile stretches further. “Correct. ‘La Primavera.’ Second movement. Largo .”
His knowledge of music is so enticing… I’m easily charmed by classic, erudite men. Most of the ones I’ve met in real life were arrogant show-offs, though.
Lorenzo is confident, and it shows, but I can’t call him arrogant. He is sweet and authentic.
He leans even closer, speaking over the cheery chatter in the bar and lobby.
“You didn’t tell me yet how I can help you.”
My index finger is on the menu, under the cocktail I want to order, so it should be easy to look down and read the name out loud. But I’m speechless, distracted by Lorenzo’s emerald-green eyes glinting like jewels under the warm lights of the bar.
He is like a drug to my body. He makes all thoughts vanish, leaving only pleasantness. It’s addicting.
And I don’t want a painful withdrawal.
“I want to thank you for the gifts,” I say as soberly as I can.
“You’re welcome.” He nods politely. “Did you guys go to the rooftop terrace? How did it go?”
I take the key from my pocket and fidget with it.
“My brother thinks we should have sex.” The words leave my mouth before I can filter them. Oh God. I look up to meet Lorenzo’s eyes, horrified at my unintended ambiguity.
“Eh…okay.” His broad-shouldered frame shakes with mirth. I put a hand on my forehead, hot with embarrassment. Why am I always saying awkward things in front of him?
“Jeremy and me, I mean,” I say, blinking slowly, wishing I could disappear. I look at the gray-haired man, hoping he hasn’t heard me. His back is turned, and he’s talking with another person, so probably not. I exhale slowly, calming down.
Lorenzo laughs a little more, not with derision—more as if he thinks I’m cute and entertaining.
“And why does your brother think that?”
Oh dear, why did I start this subject? “Because he agrees with you. He knows Jeremy is slow, and thinks I have to initiate things or Jeremy won’t.”
Lorenzo nods, now serious. “And will you?”
I try to interpret the sudden tension in his face and conclude he might be jealous. I look down at the shiny wooden surface of the bar, where my fist rests, the key to the terrace pressed in my palm.
“I don’t know,” I say because what do I know in the current state of my life?
Everything is one messy blur. “It’s risky, you know…
Even if it’s just a kiss. Maybe I’ll try something else first to see if we have any chemistry at all.
Something along the lines of what you taught me.
” I keep my eyes down, wishing I would shut up and leave.
For some reason, though, I’m glued to the seat.
“Let me know if you need more lessons.”
I look at his coy face, my heart hammering in my chest. I somehow knew he might say that. And I somehow hoped he would.
Even though I’ll say no.
“It’s fine. I’ll bring him to the narrow alley first.”
We gaze at each other for a moment, and I wait for him to object. To say that is our place , and he doesn’t want me to repeat what we did with anyone else.
But he says nothing of the sort, of course, and instead calmly stares at me. “Do that then.”
I’m not sure I’ll bring Jeremy to Calle Varisco. All I know is that I don’t at all desire Jeremy the way I desire Lorenzo. Any comparison would lead to disappointment.
Whatever I do to push for a sliver of attraction will need to fit into the picture Jeremy and I form together—the one I want to make last in a calm, cozy, stable relationship that will lead to children and old age as married best friends.
So I’m not asking for much in terms of chemistry, really.
I just need a little spark. With the right man.
I don’t need to burn for someone who’s wonderful, but wrong for the future I’m working toward.
“Can you guys meet me in the lobby at ten tomorrow so I can show you some romantic places around San Marco?” Lorenzo asks.
I nod, unable to say anything more.
“Now, can I get you a drink?”