Chapter 20
The sky’s a deep indigo by the time I make it back to the palazzo. My feet are blocks of ice and my legs ache as I climb the stairs and throw myself on top of the covers. Mum’s voice still buzzes in my ears – all that pride, all that love I don’t deserve.
My phone starts ringing somewhere beneath me. I wriggle it out of my coat pocket and toss it to the bottom of the bed. It won’t be anything I actually want to deal with, not when I’m still booted off the app.
The ringing doesn’t stop, so I jab the screen with my foot to silence it.
‘Thank you,’ I groan, when it finally cuts out.
Then there’s a tiny crackle, and a tinny voice leaks through the speaker, distant and muffled.
‘Pronto? Hello?’
I bolt upright.
Oh no. No. No. No.
I didn’t mute it. I didn’t decline it.
I answered it. With my foot.
I snatch it up: that unsaved Italian number again.
‘Hi?’ I squeak, already sweating.
‘Ciao, Evie, it’s Paola. I am happy I caught you. Did you get my texts?’ Her English is good but heavily accented in a different way to Jacopo’s, softer and a bit breathy.
‘Yes, sorry. I’ve been busy in the lab … and finding my way around.’
‘I hope you like my city!’
‘Florence … is beautiful.’
‘Bene! Listen … your sister tells me your project is air pollution. I am studying particulate matter. It is perfect, no?’
I laugh weakly. ‘Ha! What are the chances?’
‘I know! Anyway. I would like to help you. We could have a hot chocolate together and talk about the experiment. I am free tomorrow afternoon. You are at the Novoli Residence?’
‘I … yes, I’m at Novoli,’ I say, voice small. ‘Only … I’m … ehm … supposed to be collecting data from the sensors.’ I gulp, hoping that sounds right. ‘Can I check times and get back to you?’
‘Of course. I will tell Grace I spoke to you. She was worried!’
‘Ha! Big sisters, huh?’
I cringe at how fake I sound.
‘OK. Speak tomorrow. Ciao.’ She hangs up and I drop the phone like it’s radioactive.
Why did I think getting here would be the hardest part? I thought once I arrived, I’d be in a big, buzzy class, painting and exploring ideas, paving my way to a future in art. But all I do is trip over my lies. It’s too much.
I press my knuckles to my eyes.
And that’s when I hear it.
‘POPE OEEEE!’
It’s louder than usual, like he’s already in the bathroom.
‘Go away,’ I croak, hating the wobble in my voice.
‘We need to talk,’ Leo says. ‘I’m coming in, OK?’
Panic flares. There’s underwear drying on the radiator. ‘No! Wait.’
I drag myself up and open the door to find Leo in the mirror-lined space.
‘We should clear some things up,’ he says quietly.
Oh God. He heard me. Enough to know I’ve been pretending to be somewhere else. Lying. Always lying.
I can’t stand waiting for my wobbly Jenga tower of deceit to come crashing down. I’m going to topple it myself.
‘Fine. You want the truth? I lied. To the programme. To my friends. To my parents. I’m supposed to be in Florence, not here.’
Leo’s eyes widen, like he didn’t expect me to hand it over so fast. He opens his mouth—
‘Don’t.’ My voice cracks. ‘I don’t expect you to understand. How could you? You belong here. Art has been your entire life since forever. Your parents actually encourage you. And me … I have to hide what I’m doing.’ Tears blur my vision. ‘I don’t deserve to be here.’
Leo starts to say something, his voice urgent. ‘Evie, I—’
But I’m not listening. Hours of walking, no food, too much stress – it all rushes up at once.
I sway, reaching for the sink to lean on, and find Leo there instead.
His arms come around me, hesitant at first, then steadier, warmer.
I rest my forehead on his shoulder and let my hand curl into his T-shirt.
It smells faintly of soap and salt and something safe.
His heartbeat is quick under my palm … and for a second I just breathe him in, my mistakes and failures suspended in the quiet between us.
And then, slowly, I tilt my face up. His is right there, close enough that I can see patterns of blue and green in his eyes, close enough that the air catches between us.
I kiss him.
His mouth meets mine, soft and startled. For a moment, the world goes weightless. His hand even finds the back of my neck, steadying me, and I let myself believe – just for that breath – that maybe I haven’t broken everything.
Then he pulls back. Carefully. Intentionally.
‘Evie.’ His voice is thick.
The warmth drains out of me, replaced by shame.
‘Don’t,’ I whisper. ‘You don’t have to explain. I get it.’
‘Wait … I just … there’s something I have to—’
‘I said, I get it,’ I cut in, already halfway to the door. I shut it behind me, hating myself for wishing he hadn’t pulled away.