Page 64 of I Think Olive You

“Tell me what you need, beautiful. Tell me how to take you there,” I whisper into her hair before burning a trail of kisses down her neck.

“Don’t stop, Teo. Don’t stop, please. Just keep touching me. Never stop touching me.”

Fuck, I wish I could. I wish I could praise her beneath the stars every night, bathe in her divinity until she burns me alive with her light.

“Anything for you. Anything.”

Even though it means letting go.

I’m not sure if she can sense the desperation rising in me but she meets me thrust for thrust, our bodies entwined and breaths mingling. Giuliana falls apart beneath me with a primal cry loosed into the night. Following soon after, I breathe her in, shaking with fear and love and need.

This will never be enough. But I wouldn’t trade it. Not for all the money or land in the world.

“I miss you.” It comes out broken, already aching for her. I’ll miss you.

“I’m right here,” she soothes, pushing my curls away from my face, so much longer than I’ve ever let them grow.

“Yes,” I say, at a loss, unable to express how no amount of time with her will ever suffice. It doesn’t matter that I’m still inside of her, with my essence buried within her body, and the beat of her heart thrumming against my skin. I will never get enough of her.

“We should probably head back before Chiara or Nonna come looking,” she giggles, tickling my cheek.

“Heaven forbid,” I choke out, pulling away with reluctance.

Morning will come, and with it, finality. I can’t lie to her anymore and there’s nowhere to hide. Giuliana’s made it clear how she feels about liars and deception. She won’t forgive me. But I know it’s what I need to do. I don’t deserve forgiveness anyway.

We dress in silence. Twining our hands together, we head down the hill to the brightly-lit party. Every step brings us closer to laughter and music, string lights and family. Before we climb the stairs up to the house, I lift her hand to my lips and press a kiss to the back. I stroke my thumb over it as if I can imprint it there out of wishful thinking alone.

“Can we keep this as our own, for tonight? I don’t want to let go of the haze… the moonlight on your skin.” It’s a plea, a way to delay the inevitable.

Isabella will know though. I can only hope she’ll comfort whatever hurt I leave behind, coax anger to replace it. Better she hates me. Better that than her pain.

“Of course, but one day soon I’m going to walk down the hall and finally knock, and you’re going to answer.”

I chuckle through the lump in my throat at the picture, the impossibility.

“Deal.”

She walks up ahead of me and I give her a few minutes head start, to douse suspicion of course. Not because I’m breathless at the feel of my heart breaking.

Ilook back at the semi-packed bag on my bed, the lid flipped up, the last three months of my life strewn across the covers of my crudely made bed. How has it only been three months? How can one summer feel like a lifetime and a breath all at once? Cruel and beautiful, it’s been a season of firsts and lasts.

I toss my journal into the desk drawer and rise. It’s time. I need to get this out between us so I have the courage to actually pack my things and leave. My feet drag me toward her office despite my heart’s reluctance. Giuliana’s bent over the desk, typing like she’s on some kind of deadline and I have to clear my throat for her to notice I’m there.

Looking up, that glazed look of concentration softens into an easy smile. The intimacy of her gaze leaves my stomach lurching. I can’t do this. I can’t do this. How can I leave her?

The words don’t exist. I can’t pull them from the mess of my mind, even the voice that’s been my constant companion is silent.

I open my mouth to try, gaping, a stutter of a sound squeezed from my throat. I want to say so many things—tell her my feelings, drop to my knees and thank her for our night under the stars. In an ideal world I would be doing that right now. But this world is far from ideal and there’s no way to turn back time.

I’m saved for a moment by my phone buzzing insistently in my pocket. If it’s Alan I’m going to toss it across the room.

“Sorry, one sec,” I say as I pull it out and press the end call button, not even bothering to check who’s calling.

“Take your time.”

“It’s done, I just needed to turn that off.” Letting out a deep breath, I steel myself.

“Hi,” she says, that same gentle look from last night on her face and it trips me.

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