Chapter Twenty-One #2
“Ew. Gross,” I say, turning away from him before he can see my smile.
“I write songs, Sara. Get your head out of the gutter.”
“Well go write songs then because we only have one day in Rome and I plan on using it.”
“I’ve been awake since six! It’s you whose been lying in like a bloody princess.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I say. “Get ready and meet me in the courtyard in twenty.”
“Twenty minutes, that’s all I get?”
I make a comical face as I reach the door. “Guess there’ll be no singing in the shower today.”
Then I bolt before I can embarrass myself further. Sure enough, Gus is showered and dressed twenty minutes later. He finds me in the courtyard, appreciating the beautiful oleanders. He takes my arm and guides me to the side of the villa.
“Where are we going?” I ask, allowing him to direct me. But before he can reply, I spot a blue and white Vespa and two helmets. He steps up and puts one on his head, handing the other out to me. “What are you doing?”
“Cole said we could borrow his Vespa.” He grins.
“Absolutely not. These things are lethal.”
Gus scoffs. “No, they’re not. Besides, aren’t you tired of walking everywhere?” I shift my weight, reluctantly accepting the helmet.
I’ve never been on a motorbike before, and these past few days I’ve seen Vespas darting in and out of coaches all across Italy, I’m not sure if I’m ready for the adrenaline rush.
“I am, but I don’t… I’ve never driven one of these before.”
“Well, I have. And I know Rome well enough. I lived here for a summer.” He takes the helmet and sets in gently on my head.
“I’ll drive safely,” he assures me, pressing it down over my head and fastening the strap.
His fingers accidentally scrape against the soft skin under my chin and I glance up at him, my lips parting.
“Shall we?” he asks.
“Ugh, fine. But only because I’m actively trying to be irresponsible and let my hair down.”
“Well, your hair is down,” he points out, climbing on and waiting for me to clamber up behind him, wrapping my arms around his middle, as unromantically as I can possibly muster, before saying, “Now obviously I don’t have my licence on me, but when in Rome, eh?”
“Oh for—” the words get trapped in my throat as the scooter lurches forward, zipping through Cole’s front gate and heading up the cobbled street towards the city.
Rome is even more hectic than Naples. It has that “don’t stop on the pathway or I will shout expletives at you” rule that exists in central London at rush hour.
We jostle along towards the Colosseum, a must-see while in Rome, and I’m unsure whether Gus is breaking all the rules of the road or if other drivers are just irrationally angry, but horns are blaring almost every couple of seconds.
“Fuck,” I say out loud.
Gus flinches, peeking at me over his shoulder while we’re stuck at traffic lights. “What?”
“I met Cole Devaney last night.”
He rolls his eyes, shaking his head. “You fangirled so hard. I’m embarrassed for you.”
We continue once the light changes and I have to shout over the engine and wind to be heard, “There’s this scene in The Decider where he jumps off a moving truck, off a fucking mountain, then parachutes to the bottom – topless.
And I mean,” I pause for effect, “It’s no surprise he has a state-of-the-art gym in his basement. That man has an eight pack.”
Gus tuts under his breath. “I’ve heard he’s really average in bed.”
“Ha!” I howl. “Did you hear that or is it from personal experience?”
“If I liked guys, I could do better than Cole,” he says.
“Mmm. No. You couldn’t. He is peak. He is like the male version of Margot Robbie. It doesn’t get better. There’s not another level of hotness beyond Cole. And I showered, naked, in his bathroom this morning,” I say, laughing. “How long have you known him?”
“First of all, there are eleven showers in that house so statistically he’s never used that one before – I asked. Secondly, he isn’t Margot Robbie level hot. You’re deluded. Thirdly, where was this energy when you met me? And finally, are you telling me you’re an action thriller kind of girl?”
“I am!”
He parks up besides hundreds of other Vespas and mopeds, waiting for me to climb off before dismounting himself and taking his hat off, his curls squished flat at the top. He stares at me for a long second. “Hmm. Interesting.”
“You didn’t answer my question,” I say, removing my hat too and fluffing up my hair. “How long have you known him?”
“I was in a film with him six years ago. We hung out a bit. Then we dated the same woman for like three months.”
“On purpose?” I gasp.
Gus laughs. “No, of course not. She was playing us. I was on tour. And she wasn’t exactly subtle about it. When it all came out, I was too busy to be wrecked over it, but Cole was furious and tried to knock me out in a fancy club in Mayfair.”
“I would’ve loved to have seen that,” I say, already picturing the scuffle.
It’s hot.
Gus carefully pulls me out of the way as another moped parks beside us. “I bet you would’ve. He gave me a black eye and everything. You seriously didn’t hear about any of this?”
I can’t help it; I smile and shake my head. He seems to care about my opinion which is hilarious to me.
“You got a black eye from Cole Devaney?” I ask, animatedly. “I’m so jealous.”
He tilts his head, smiling. He’s so onto me.
“Wait. But how are you friends?”
He shrugs. “What can I say, I have a way with words even when I’m being beaten to a pulp.
He thought I did it on purpose. He was heartbroken.
In all honesty, she was way out of my league, and I’d seen the photos of her and Cole strolling the streets of Rome, but I didn’t want to deal with them.
I just sort of ignored the whole thing. Until it hit me in the face like Cole Devaney’s fist… oh wait…” He gives me a knowing look.
“Ha!”
“I actually do need to keep a low profile here though. Vanessa lives here too, and I can’t have people thinking we’re in the same city on purpose.”
“Vanessa?” I ask, shrill voiced. “A Vanessa was two-timing you and Cole?”
“Yes?”
“Was she eighty?”
“No. She is the daughter of a very rich old man.”
I roll my eyes. “The troubled ones always are.”
Gus just snorts and shakes his head.
“What film were you in?”
“It was one of the Jason Bourne spin-offs. It didn’t do great in the box office. I thought for a minute my future might have been in Hollywood.”
“Oh yeah?”
“I was wrong,” he adds.
“Not the next DiCaprio?”
“No. Let’s just say I wasn’t booked again. Besides they cut all my scenes.”
“Ouch.”
“Yeah. I decided acting wasn’t for me after that.”
Without much thought he links his hand in mine, his warm knuckles wide between my fingers. Something about the pressure makes my breathing unsteady. I press my lips together to see how long it takes him to notice, but all he does grin at me over his shoulder.
*
Later that afternoon, after exploring the Colosseum and strolling through old ruins of the Roman Forum, we hop back on the Vespa and whizz over to Vatican City. As we walk up to St. Peter’s Basilica, Gus stops short to eye up the massive queue.
“This could be tricky,” he whispers, leaning into me. I nod, prepared to sack it off when I spot an opportunity. A large tour is on the move ahead of us, a man with a strong scouse accent, is holding a British flag and rounding everyone up.
I grab Gus’s hand and drag him into the fold. “What the—”
“Sssh,” I hiss, nudging him with my elbow. “Don’t say anything. We’ll just follow this tour.”
“Sara. I can’t go into these buildings with my hat and sunglasses on. They’re places of worship. I’m bound to be spotted.”
I check the crowd around us. There isn’t anyone looking his way, but honestly, nearly everyone is much older than us.
I doubt they’ll know who he is. And yet, I’ve seen how tense he gets when he thinks he’s about to be pounced on.
I sigh. “We can leave if you’re really worried. We’ll just sneak out that way?”
“No,” he whispers. “You wanted to do this. Let’s do it.”
“I just like basking in the history,” I whisper back. “I like to pretend I lived here in a past life.”
Gus raises his eyebrows. “In the Vatican?”
“Hey. I might’ve been an old, bald man in medieval times. You don’t know.”
We seem to go unnoticed for the first part of the tour. An hour in though, when we’re considering sneaking away because it’s a little slow for us, the tour guide glances at Gus and I’m pretty sure he knows who he is.
At the end, full of guilt for crashing it, Gus thanks the tour guide and offers to sign something for him. The man is elated but highly discreet. He helps us through the crowds and back to the street unnoticed.
“Hey,” Gus says, taking my arm before I can strap my helmet back on. “Thanks for that, that was incredible.” He’s gazing at me intently.
“Oh, it’s nothing! I seized an opportunity.”
“Yes, you did,” he grins. “Very spontaneous of you.”
I can’t help the blush that creeps up my neck.
Thankfully, his phone buzzes, saving me from the moment.
He retrieves it from his pocket, staring down at the screen.
For a moment I’m worried I’ve fucked up, that he’s been spotted, and there are pictures of us all over the tabloids.
I’m about to ask him when he looks up and smiles.
“Fancy meeting Cole for dinner in the city?”
I tilt my head. “Do you really need me to answer that question?”