Love & Gelato(32)

AUGUST 23

It’s been more than a month since I’ve written, but I have good reason. I’m sure it will come as no surprise when I say that I’ve fallen in L-O-V-E. What a cliché! But seriously, move to Florence and eat a few forkfuls of pasta, then stroll in the twilight and just TRY not to fall for that guy you’ve been ogling from day one! You’ll probably fail. I love being in love in Italy. But truth be told, I would fall for X anywhere. He’s handsome, intelligent, charming, and everything I’ve ever dreamed of. We also have to keep things completely secret, which, if I’m totally honest, makes him all the more appealing. (Yes, X. I seriously don’t think anyone would read my journal, but I’m giving him a new name, just in case.)

WHAT? I let the book fall onto my lap. It had taken only three pages for Howard to make the leap from squeaky-clean “Southern gentleman” to secret lover X. Apparently I hadn’t been giving him enough credit.

I picked up my laptop and FaceTimed Addie again, and she answered almost immediately. Her hair was wrapped in a towel and she was holding a half-eaten freezer waffle. “What’s up?”

“They had to keep their relationship a secret.” I kept my voice down. It sounded like Howard’s guests were on their way out, but there was still some backslapping and “Let’s do this again soon” going on outside on the front porch.

“Howard and your mom?”

“Yeah. She talks about them being in the same group of friends, and then suddenly she’s calling him by a new name because she’s worried someone will pick up her journal and find out that they’re secretly dating.”

“Scandalous!” Addie said happily. “Why did they have to be secretive? Was he in the mafia or something?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“Call me back when you figure it out. Crap. I won’t be here! Ian’s driving me to the car dealership. I’m finally getting my car back.”

“That’s good news.”

“Tell me about it. Last night Ian made me fold all his nasty laundry before he’d take me to Dylan’s. Call me tomorrow?”

“Definitely.”



SEPTEMBER 9

Now that I’ve started writing about my storia d’amore, I might as well tell it from the very beginning. X was actually one of the very first people I met when I arrived in Florence. He gave one of the semester’s opening lectures, and afterward I just couldn’t stop thinking about him. He’s obviously talented, and the kind of good-looking that makes you stumble over words like “hello” and “good-bye,” but there was something else—he had this depth to him. It made me want to figure him out.

Lucky for me we were able to spend a lot of time together in and out of class. It’s just that we were never alone. Ever. Francesca was either sitting in the corner rattling away on her phone or Simone and Alessio would ask us to weigh in on some ridiculous new argument, and our conversations just never seemed to get all that far. I had this big debate going on my head. IS HE OR ISN’T HE INTERESTED? Some days I was positive he was, and others I was less sure. Maybe I was just reading too much into things?

But I kept catching him staring at me during class, and every time we talked, there was this something between us that I couldn’t ignore. This went on for weeks. And then, finally, just when I thought I was imagining the whole thing, I saw him at Space. Francesca calls it the official nightclub of FAAF, but he’d never come with us before. I had stepped outside for a little air, and when I came back in, there he was, leaning against the wall. Alone.

I knew this was my chance, but as I started toward him I realized I had absolutely no idea what to say. “Hi. I hope this doesn’t sound crazy, but have you noticed this weird chemistry thing between us?” Luckily I didn’t even have to open my mouth. As soon as he saw me, he reached out and grabbed my wrist. “Hadley,” he said. And the way he said it—I knew that I hadn’t been imagining things.

SEPTEMBER 15

Met X at the Boboli Gardens so we could be alone for a while. It’s a sixteenth-century park, kind of an oasis in the middle of the city. Lots of architecture and fountains and enough space to let you forget you’re in a city. We both took our cameras, and when we’d captured everything we wanted to, we sat down under a tree and talked. He knows so much about art. And history. And literature. (And everything, really.) The grounds closed at seven thirty, but when I stood up to pack up my things, he pulled me back down and we kissed until a guard made us leave.

SEPTEMBER 20

The only hard part about being in love with X is not telling anyone about it. I know the school wouldn’t be okay with us dating, but it’s hard to keep something this big a secret. It’s torture to spend half our days within ten feet of each other and not even touch.

I’m pretty bad at secret-keeping, and everyone seems to know I’m in love. Part of it is logistics. Most nights we meet up late, and I don’t get home until three or four a.m. I told Francesca that I’m out working on my night photography, but she just rolled her eyes and told me she knows all about “night photography.” Part of me wonders if everyone is just pretending not to know what’s going on. Are they really that dense? Our relationship is taking place right under their noses!

OCTOBER 9

X and I are starting to get really creative about where we meet. We knew that everyone else would be staying in studying tonight, so we went to Space (one and the same) and after we’d danced until we were exhausted we wandered around the city. X told me he had a surprise for me and we started winding our way through the dark streets until I could smell something amazing—a mixture of sugar and butter and something else. Bliss?