Enemies Abroad(39)

I realize that the more Lorenzo talks and apologizes, the worse I feel. On some level, I appreciated his company the last few days. I wanted to enjoy my time with him out exploring the city. I wanted to use him as a distraction and maybe convince myself that a fling with him was just the thing I needed, but truthfully, I worry my motives were much more selfish than that. The moment Noah mentioned ground rules that first day we arrived, Lorenzo became a pawn, and for that, I feel horrible.

“I think, let’s just be friends, you and me, okay? Gabriella is really great though. I know I said it at the bar, but I really mean it—if you’re both interested in each other, don’t let me stand in the way.”

He smiles. “Yeah. Maybe. She’s nice.”

“And pretty,” I say, teasing him.

I don’t see Noah until dinner. I’m in the dining hall with Ashley, Gabriella, and Lorenzo. We picked a long table near the windows and we only sit down a moment before Noah walks in. I look up, see him, my stomach clenches, and I quickly avert my eyes, refocusing my attention down onto my food.

Please go away. Please go away. Please go away.

“Noah!” Lorenzo shouts. “Come eat with us!”





Chapter Thirteen





Lorenzo clearly didn’t read the room before delivering his invitation. The tension between Noah and me is palpable. If I stuck my tongue out, the air would taste bitter.

There’s no time for me to freak out though. I need to take stock of the situation, prepare, and execute. I have very few options. I can’t just get up and leave. I have a full plate of food in front of me I haven’t touched yet. I hang on to the small chance that Noah might decline Lorenzo’s invitation, but that hope goes up in flames as soon as Noah finishes loading up his tray and heads our way. He plunks his food down beside Ashley on the opposite side of the table from me, and I take a small victory in that at least.

We’re as far apart as we can be, which is par for the course for us.

Everyone greets him cheerfully, except me. I make sure my mouth is stuffed with salad.

In fact, I go right in for another bite before I’ve even fully swallowed the first.

I can’t be asked to speak if I’m constantly eating. So what if I choke a little and need someone to perform the Heimlich? I have a few spare ribs.

Everyone starts to recap their day. Ashley and Gabriella go on about the farmer’s market and then ask the guys about soccer.

“The kids could barely keep up with Noah.” Lorenzo laughs.

“Are you that good?” Ashley asks, curious.

I stab, stab, stab my lettuce, only stopping when I realize I’ve drawn a few curious stares. I let up a little, then when I can’t withstand it another second longer, I peer up at Noah from beneath my lashes.

He shakes his head, skirting around Ashley’s question. “I’ve just had a lot of practice.”

“He’s being modest,” Lorenzo insists. “The kids were really in awe. We’ll have to convince you to play again next week if you’re up for it.”

Noah’s freshly showered. His hair is slightly damp and doing my favorite thing where it curls up at the ends. It’s not long enough to form a ringlet, but it wants to so bad. He picked up more sun at soccer. His skin is getting tanner by the day. He was made for Italian summers. He should be on a yacht with an heiress. Meanwhile, I’m not allowed to go back out into the sun without a hat and SPF 100 coverage, minimum.

Worried he’ll catch me staring, I force myself to look back down at my food. The conversation has shifted and my silence must be getting a little awkward at this point because Lorenzo tries to draw me in directly.

“Audrey, I meant to thank you earlier for hanging back at the school. Did you find anything to distract yourself with?”

My mind goes blank because of course I can’t tell him the truth of what I was doing.

“Uhh…”

Don’t say you cried!

For the love of GOD, think of something else!

I remember the art I looked at just as Lorenzo’s attention is suddenly diverted by something across the room. “Oh! They just put out the dessert. It’s that bread pudding all the kids snatched up the other day.”

He’s already pushing up and out of his chair. He’s forgotten I exist.

Gabriella shoots to her feet too. “Oh, let’s go. Quick, Ashley.”

She tugs her arm and just like that, the three of them vanish in a poof, leaving me alone at the table with Noah.

It’s dramatically quiet. It’s like someone dialed the volume of the room down to zero but Noah and I have been mic’d up. His fork scrapes against his plate. My glass of water clinks against the table. I swear if I tried, I could hear my stomach churning my food.

I’m so hyperaware of everything it’s like life’s been put in slow motion. What is taking them so long? Get your stupid pudding and come back here.

“So are we going to pretend we don’t know each other?” Noah suddenly asks.

I can read Noah’s moods like an old weather-beaten farmer can detect rain. Looks like it’s coming on, boys. His tone (lighthearted), his delivery (pithy, eager)—he’s not wanting to continue our argument; he’s trying to draw me into banter. It’s his version of an apology and likely the only one either of us will deliver.