Page 39 of The Road to You
I can’t help it. The sight of her, all wide-eyed and panicked, gripping the handlebars like they’re her last hope for survival, is hands down the funniest thing I’ve seen in years.
“You should see your face right now,” I tease.
“I hate you,” she says, breathless and giggling.
“Youloveme,” I correct, still laughing. When the word leaves my lips, my heart clenches and I ignore it.
She turns her head slightly, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “If you’re not careful, Moretti, I’ll let go and letyoudrive this thing.”
I smirk. “Go ahead.”
She makes a move like she’s actually going to let go, and I react instinctively, tightening my grip and pressing closer.
“Okay, okay, no funny business,” I say, grinning against her ear.
She huffs but doesn’t pull away, and for a moment, we slowly inch forward through the winding roads of Positano. The salty breeze ruffles through her hair, and the pastel-colored buildings spill down the cliffs like something out of a painting.
The laughter fades, but the warmth doesn’t. I don’t know when it happened. Somewhere between teasing her in Rome, holding her hand in Villa Borghese, and this—holding her steady on a Vespa while she laughs like the world isn’t watching—I’ve started feeling something Ishouldn’tfeel. Something that digs under my skin, warm and insistent, curling around my ribs.
I like this. Not just the teasing or the chemistry.
Her.
I likeher.
And that should be a problem. But right now, it isn’t. Right now, it’s just us on a Vespa, without knowing what the future looks like and not caring a bit about it. I don’t feel scared when I’m with her.
She twists the throttle again, trying to keep a steady speed, and I swear we might actually survive this…until she nearly crashes us into a parked Fiat.
“LENA!” I shout
“I GOT IT, I GOT IT!” she screams
She doesnot,in fact, got it. I react fast, reaching for her wrists and yanking them left just in time to avoid disaster. The Vespa wobbles, and Lena shrieks, and I finally do what Ishouldhave done from the start. I slide forward, gripping the handlebars myself and bringing us to a smooth, controlled stop.
Silence.
Lena pants, gripping my thigh so hard it almost hurts.
I lower my forehead on her back and exhale a breathless laugh. “That was close.”
She groans, dropping her head against my shoulder. “I almost killed us.” Her voice is still shaky.
I rub soothing circles on her arms. “Only a little.”
She snorts. “New rule: I don’t drive.”
“Agreed.” I shift slightly, and a sharp ache shoots through my injured leg.
I grit my teeth, ignoring it. It’s fine. I’ve gone more than a month without physical therapy, and yeah, I feel it, but I refuse to let it ruin this moment. It doesn’t help that all the weight of the Vespa is on my left leg.
Lena lifts her head. “You okay?”
I force a smirk. “I’m more worried about your ego than my life expectancy right now.”
She smacks my arm lightly. “Ass.”
I chuckle, then swing my leg over and take my rightful place in the driver’s seat. Lena instantly relaxes, and the smile appears less forced on her lips.
