Page 15 of The Road to You
“So,” he says, lifting his wine glass to his lips, “are you enjoying your Italian life so far?” His eyes glint with amusement as he watches me, waiting for my verdict.
I take a sip of my own wine, savoring the taste before answering. “I’m loving it. The sights, the food, the company…” I flash him a teasing smile.
He chuckles, swirling the deep red liquid in his glass. “I’m glad to hear that. It’s strange, but I’ve realized I actually enjoy playing tour guide, showing you places that aren’t in the travel brochures, the kind of spots only locals know about.”
“You’re an amazing tour guide,” I say. “Ever considered doing it professionally? I know plenty of people back home who’d pay a lot of money for someone like you, especially if you can keep them away from the paparazzi.”
That earns me a real laugh, one of those deep, unrestrained ones that makes him throw his head back, his face lighting up in a way that seems to be happening more and more on this trip. I watch him for a moment, curiosity stirring inside me. There’s something about the way he carries himself, the weight I sense pressing on his shoulders, that makes me wonder.
“I don’t think I can change the course of my lifethatmuch,” he muses, his laughter fading into something more thoughtful.
I tilt my head, studying him. “And whatisthe course of your life?”
For the briefest second, his smile falters. It’s quick, barely noticeable, but I catch it before he schools his expression back into his usual charming facade.
“It’s something I worked hard for since I was a kid,” he says carefully. His voice is steady but lacking its usual playfulness. “Iwished for it, fought for it. And now that I have it, walking away would feel like throwing away a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.”
It’s an answer without actually answering, a way of telling me something while still keeping me at arm’s length. I could press. I could push for more. But I don’t because beneath the effortless charm, beneath the smooth words, I see the sadness lingering in his eyes, the hesitation just before he speaks. And I don’t want him to tell me because I force him to. If he ever decides to open up, I want it to behischoice.
“So I guess we both saw our dreams come true,” I say instead, shifting the conversation. “I always dreamed of becoming an actress. And I love my life, even if it means never doing anything crazy, like taking a spontaneous trip around Italy.”
Michele’s brow furrows, like I’ve just told him something completely incomprehensible. “Nothing crazy?” He leans forward, his expression incredulous. “Not even alittle?”
I shake my head, feeling strangely self-conscious under his scrutiny. “Not exactly. My life is…planned. Every day, every hour, down to the minute. There’s no room for detours.” I force a small smile. “Sounds boring, right?”
He doesn’t smile back. Instead, he studies me, his gaze soft but intent.
“No,” he says finally. “It sounds…sad.”
And for some reason, that hits harder than I expected.
Michele is on a mission.He doesn’t believe that I’ve never done anything spontaneous in my life, and by the look on his face, he won’t stop until he proves me wrong.
“Getting drunk with your friends in high school?” he suggests as we walk along the manicured garden of the hotel, with the lake stretching out beside us in the darkness.
I let out a laugh, shaking my head. “God, no. I was already auditioning full-time in high school. I was homeschooled.”
He stops mid-step and turns to look at me. His eyebrows are raised in surprise. “You were homeschooled? You didn’t have friends?”
I shrug. “I had some. Mostly other actresses I worked with, but those friendships never lasted beyond the movies we were filming together. It’s strange… This job surrounds you with people all the time, but when I think about who I’d consider real friends, the list is pretty short.”
Michele falls silent, thinking that over. Then he asks, “Not even the person who let you stay in the apartment in Milan?”
I smile. “She’s one of the few real ones. We were roommates when I moved to Los Angeles after high school. I couldn’t stay with my parents if I wanted to audition seriously, it just wasn’t feasible anymore. I managed when I was a minor, but it took a ridiculous level of commitment.”
He hums thoughtfully and stops in front of the stone parapet lining the lake. Leaning against it, he stares at the water and at the distant town lights reflecting across the surface.
“I know what you mean,” he says after a beat. “I didn’t have a lot of time to be young either. But I sure as hell did something crazy.” He chuckles, and I glance at him with curiosity.
“Like what?” I lean against the parapet beside him, the cool stone pressing against my forearms.
He smirks. “Like stealing my dad’s car when I was fifteen, three years short of the legal driving age in Italy, piling my friends in, and taking a joyride to the beach in the middle of the night. I drove straight onto the sand and got stuck. We had noclue how to get the car out, so I had to call my brother for help. He tried, but in the end, he had to call our dad.”
I gasp, my jaw dropping. “Oh my God.”
Michele grins. “Yeah. My dad showed up with a tow truck. Once he got the car out, he looked me dead in the eye and said, ‘You’re walking home.’ Ten kilometers. I had to walk the whole way back.”
I stare at him wide-eyed. “Are you serious? That’s insane! You could’ve crashed, gotten hurt, or worse!”
