Page 70 of My Italian Love Affair

“Oh, you definitely have a crush on Matteo Rossi.”

“Not you too,” I groan, letting my head fall back against the couch. “Aren’t best friends supposed to be supportive?”

Priya just grins through the screen, her dark eyes twinkling with far too much amusement for my liking.

She’s propped up in bed, wrapped in her favorite oversized hoodie, a face mask smeared over her skin like she’s settling in for a front-row seat to my misery.

“Iambeing supportive,” she says, still smirking. “I’m supporting the fact that you clearly have a thing for a certain ridiculously attractive Italian footballer.”

I dramatically flop onto my side, burying half my face into a cushion.

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t,” she says in a sing-song voice.

“Did you even listen to what I just said? He wasimpossible, Priya.Impossible! He acted like I was wasting his time, even thoughhewas the one who crashedmyinterview! He was smug and lazy and -”

“ - and so,sohot.”

“Priya!”

“What? I’m just saying!”

She leans closer to the camera, grinning.

“Come on, Daph. We both know that you’ve had your fair share of difficult interviews before, but I don’t remember you ever getting this worked up about any of them.”

I narrow my eyes.

“That’s because none of them ended with the interviewee following me outside and accusing me of having a crush on them,again.”

Priya gasps, looking way too delighted by this information.

“Oh my God, he didwhat?!”

“I shouldn’t have told you that,” I groan again. “Forget I mentioned that part. Look, all you need to know is that this man is insufferable.”

“But here you are, talking about him,” she hums, sounding amused.

“I have to talk about him! He’s a major player, and I have to cover his games every week,” I insist. “It’s not like I want to do this, or speak to him. I literallydon’t have a choice.”

“Mm-hmm.” Priya arches an eyebrow. “Did you have to talk about how good he smells?”

I bolt upright. “I never said that!”

“You implied it.”

I drag a hand down my face, already regretting calling her in the first place.

Priya just cackles, like this is all the best entertainment she’shad in months.

“Look, I’m just saying,” she continues, propping her chin in her hands. “You’ve been in Rome for almost a month, and this is the first time you’ve called me ranting about a guy. Thathasto mean something.”

“Yeah, it means he’s annoying as hell,” I mutter.

“Or,it means that he has gotten under your skin in averyspecific way.”

I roll my eyes so hard they might actually fall out of my head.

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