Enemies Abroad(45)

It’s a clear message. Noah thinks I have my head buried in the sand. Oh, and look at that, scaredy-cat wasn’t a clue either. He also thinks I’m a coward.

I take my pen to my name and scratch it out until there’s a big chaotic swirl of black lines across the top of the page. There.

Better.





Chapter Fifteen





Noah calling me a coward is a tiny insidious seed that sprouts and grows roots while I sit under that umbrella the rest of the morning. I try to push it from my mind, telling myself it was nothing but a joke, but my brain won’t drop it.

Am I a coward?

Why? Because I don’t want to fight with Noah about what happened at the bar? I just want to drop it and move on even though he seems intent on hashing it out.

What does he want? An apology? Okay. Sorry I blew up on you after you kissed me, but guess what, we’re not really people who kiss. Call me crazy, but I thought you had it out for me. I’m lucky you didn’t stab me in the heart while our lips were locked à la Jon Snow and Daenerys.

I’m trying to get us back on track as playful enemies who want to do the other in. It’s fun! Spunky! Will we kill each other? Find out on next week’s episode!

Meanwhile, Noah’s trying to mess everything up.

What’s with this cryptic flirting bullshit?

Sigh.

Okay.

Here’s the truth…

Just to be crystal clear, right here, sitting on the beach, I know. Deep down, I KNOW. Noah’s making his intentions pretty clear.

But I’m not ready to admit it yet. It’s like my brain is padding my heart, trying to keep it safe from the truth.

There, there, little guy. Just keep pretending to be confused. Keep avoiding him and running away and going for another swim as if you think that will help.

Eventually, I know, I’m going to have to rip this Band-Aid off.

But I like the Band-Aid. It’s been there for a few years now. Sure, it’s a little dirty around the edges and one side’s just flapping free in the wind, but that Band-Aid is there for a reason. I AM NOT TAKING OFF THE BAND-AID.

Noah can go to hell.

Around lunch time, I help Gabriella set out the spread for the students. The cooks at St. Cecilia’s packed up quite the beach picnic for us. There are little finger sandwiches and cold pasta salad, Italian sodas, and fresh fruit. Peaches and cherries and melons—all in season, all divine. I have a little bit of everything and I eat standing up, like a jittery little rabbit who might flee at any moment.

Noah leaves me alone. He must sense that I’m liable to crack if he’s not careful while handling me.

After lunch, the students disperse again. A few take naps on the loungers. Some head right back into the water. I take a group of girls out on a walk along the shore. We pick our favorite umbrella colors and pass around what’s left of the cherries. I ask them if they’re enjoying Rome.

“It’s different than I thought it would be,” Lizzy says.

“I didn’t think I’d miss my parents this much,” Alice admits sheepishly.

“I feel the same way,” I assure them.

“But even if I am a little homesick, Rome is so cool,” Millie adds.

“Yeah,” Alice agrees. “We’re going to have so many stories to tell everyone when we get back to school in the fall.”

“And Millie totally has a crush on one of the Trinity boys!”

“LIZZY!”

“What?! It’s true! Ms. Cohen doesn’t care. She’s cool!”

“Yeah, well YOU also have a crush on one of them. So there!”

“It’s not like anything is going to happen anyway.” Lizzy rolls her eyes. “They don’t even know we exist.”

I don’t bother reminding them that relationships between students in the program are prohibited. They know that. It’s all in good fun. When I was their age, I would have been doing the same thing. Those Trinity boys are like little Justin Biebers—I get why they’re all freaking out over them.

When our loungers are nothing but specks in the distance, we turn back, taking our time, scouring the sand for seashells, stopping for some Italian shaved ice when we pass a man working hard, pushing a cart along the beach.

“Don’t tell the others I got us these!” I warn them, and we all pinky-promise to keep our secret.

We finish our treat before we make it back to the group, disposing of the evidence in a trashcan a few yards away from our loungers. Then we apply more sunscreen and head right back out into the water.

Noah and some of the guys are boogie boarding. He’s gotten pretty good at it over the day, flinging the board down and running after it, hopping on and riding the little crests of the incoming waves before stumbling off with a confident burst of laughter.

It’s getting close to dinner time, but no one’s all that anxious to leave. In fact, I’m about to start a second crossword puzzle when the sky turns. It’s as if someone waved a magic wand and brought on the black rolling clouds all at once. One second, the sky is a picturesque blue, and the next, it’s black and ominous. Torrential rain comes on so suddenly there’s nothing we can do but call out for the kids, get everyone out of the water, and try to scramble and pack everything up.

Beachgoers perform a mass exodus. The kids are squealing, laughing, complaining as they try to find any cover they can.