Page 100 of Italy Can Bite Me

“If I laugh, I’ll make it up to you with that thing you enjoy,” I say suggestively. “You know, with my tongue?”

“Deal.” She breathes in deeply, a playful twinkle in her eyes. “Okay, so imagine this: fifth-grade talent show and little Katie is all fired up to win. I thought, ‘Why not dance?’ One small issue—I don’t dance. I’d never been taught. But who needs formal training when you’ve got sheer willpower?”

“That doesn’t sound so terrible.”

“Just wait. I’ve always been an overachiever, so I decided to study some dance videos. Specifically, from my auntie’s collection.”

“Oh no,” I gasp, already feeling the laughter building.

“Turns out I was learning Aunt Deb’s stripper routine from her exotic dancing days. I went onstage and performed her choreography—minus the actual stripping, thank God—in front of the entire school. “Pour Some Sugar on Me” blasted through the gym, and I thought I was killingit.When I started grinding against the microphone stand, they slammed down the curtain.”

I burst into laughter.

“It earned me the nickname K-Teasefor years.” She’s laughing now too, and the sound makes my chest warm. “My dad couldn’t look me in the eye for weeks.”

“Let me guess. Aunt Deb didn’t apologize?”

“Are you kidding? She gave me pointers on my hip movements and bought me a mini feather boa.”

“Of course she did.” I pull her into my lap, loving how naturally she fits there. “Dance with me tomorrow anyway. I promise to keep you far away from microphone stands.”

She wraps her arms around my neck, and—Madre di Dio—the trust in her eyes undoes me completely. “If you want me to.”

“I definitely do.”

I want everything with you. Every story, every laugh, every imperfect moment. I want it all.

“You laughed,” she points out, “so you owe me.”

“I feel I was set up. You knew that story was impossible not to laugh at.”

“You’ll never prove it,” she challenges, then kisses me soft and sweet.

My hands slide to her hips, ready to pull her closer, when her phone buzzes against the nightstand like a sudden alarm.

She groans, breaking the kiss with a sigh. “It’s my mom.” She reaches over me and grabs it.

“Is she still texting you about Jared,” I ask, trying to keep the jealous heat from my voice.

“Every day.”

Jared.The name I thought we’d left behind. Katie doesn’t meet my gaze as she powers off the phone and tosses it on the nightstand.

“Sorry,” she says quickly, her voice too bright. “Let’s forget it, okay?”

But I can’t forget it. Not when the mention of him feels like a rock sinking in my gut.

Does she still think about him?

Is she planning on going back to him?

The questions gnaw at me as her head nuzzles into my neck. Her fingers trace soft, mindless patterns on my skin and I lie there, letting her quiet touch soothe the raging storm in my mind.

When the hell did I turn intothisguy—holding on to her like she might evaporate if I loosen my grip? I’ve always been the one racing for the exit, keeping things surface level, uncomplicated. Now I’m lying here wondering how I’ll survive when she walks away in three days.

She’s quiet, her breathing steady as she keeps drawing what feels like hearts on my chest. I want to ask what’s going on in that amazing mind of hers, but I’m afraid to break whatever spell we’re under.

“So,” she finally says, “what do you have planned tomorrow while I’m getting the party ready?”

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