Chapter 22 #3
I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t that. An automatic smile stretches across my face, maybe the biggest smile I’ve ever smiled, as I try not to laugh and ruin the pose.
“While we have your smiling eyes, go ahead and take a lick of your gelato, Tessa. Gio, give me a smile.” I take a big lick of my gelato, and the cold ice cream is a reprieve from the warmth of Giovanni’s body behind mine.
“You two are naturals! Relax for a few minutes while I look at the pictures.”
Enzo takes a moment to review the shots he captured on his camera, clicking through them with a pleased expression on his face. I walk toward the bench and sit down.
Giovanni walks over and joins me on the bench. “So, did I make you smile?”
I forgot that he couldn’t see, standing behind me.
“Yeah.” I blush, and a half-grin appears on his face.
We sit in silence for a moment, and Enzo instructs us to slide off most of the gelato from our cones, so the gelato appears eaten. Giovanni slides both of our gelatos into an empty cup and hands me back an empty cone.
“We’re almost done.” Enzo fidgets with some of the dials on his camera to set up the shot.
“You have gelato just there.” Giovanni points to the side of my chin.
“Oh shoot.” I look down frantically. “I don’t want anything to drip on the dress.”
“It won’t stain. I’m not worried about it.” He takes a seat next to me on the bench.
I swipe the corner of my chin with my thumb. “Did I get it?”
He gives me a lopsided grin.
I release a defeated sigh. “I made it worse, didn’t I?”
Giovanni chuckles. “Mhm, but I can help.”
He reaches up with his thumb toward my chin before Enzo stops us.
“Hold on! I love that shot. Gio, can you kiss the gelato off Tessa’s chin instead?”
We both freeze as though we’re being held at gunpoint.
“You sure that won’t be too much for the ad?” Giovanni croaks.
Wishful thinking.
“Not at all. They want a romantic undertone, so it’ll be perfect.”
Perfect. I’d laugh if I wasn’t so nervous.
Giovanni turns toward me with a raised eyebrow, a silent question on his face. He waits patiently for what I assume is my consent.
I’m not sure how to get out of this one. And… I’m not sure if I even want to get out of it. Over the past few weeks of working closely together, my feelings about Giovanni have privately transformed from admiration for his craft to admiration for him.
It’s hard to overcome our past. But the Giovanni I thought I knew in New York is not the same Giovanni I’ve experienced in Italy.
The beloved son. The fierce protector. The gentle caretaker.
The wry humor. Qualities that seem so natural, so innate in him, it makes me wonder how I missed them before.
I pause for a moment, and in that stillness, the answer becomes quite clear: turn up my intuition and gut instinct, and turn down my inner critic and judge.
“Tessa?” he murmurs.
“Go ahead, Gio,” I whisper, answering the unspoken question lingering between us. “Kiss me.”
His eyes widen, and it takes him only one second to thread his hand through my hair and lean in.
I squeeze my eyes shut and wait for a quick, uncomplicated peck.
Nothing happens.
The drop of gelato slides down my chin to my neck, and I open my eyes to find Giovanni’s lips still hovering over my skin.
When his mouth finally presses against the bottom of my chin, he simply breathes. After a few moments, his tongue darts out to swipe at the melted ice cream, and I suck in a shaky breath.
My eyes flutter close as soon as his lips pucker into a soft kiss, followed by a gentle drag of his mouth down my neck, tracing the trail of dripping gelato.
It’s a kiss in theory, but a serenade in practice. It’s like every press of his lips leaves intimate lyrics behind.
I’ve wanted you, the first kiss sings.
You’ve wanted me, too, the second kiss echoes.
Each kiss becomes clumsier in an effortless way, like he’s not aiming for perfection. Like his only goal is to taste my skin. My head gently lolls back at his tenderness, and I wonder what it would feel like if his lips brushed up against mine. If I could kiss him back.
“That’s really great,” Enzo praises. “I think I got it!”
Giovanni leans all the way back, yet his fingers remain threaded through my hair. His arm now awkwardly extends all the way, because he still hasn’t removed his hand. I don’t think he’s remotely aware of his body. It’s as if we’re stuck in a mutual trance.
“Gio, you can relax your pose now, we’re done,” Enzo tells him absentmindedly, attention fixed on his viewfinder.
Gio breaks eye contact with me and finally notices his frozen placement. He yanks his arm back so quickly that my hair swooshes to the front as if there was a gust of wind pushing it forward.
I reflexively bring my fingers to the spot where he kissed me, like it’s an area that needs to be soothed, and for a moment, I wonder if it was all in my head. But then I behold Giovanni’s intense gaze fixed on my chin.
And I watch him lick the corner of his mouth, where a single drop of strawberry gelato remains.