Page 16 of The Fear of Falling
With a grin, I take Avery’s hand and lift it to my lips, bringing her attention back to me where it belongs. “You won’t be. That’s just one day. If you want to spend time with me, all you have to do is say so.”
“Have you always been such a flirt?”
If she were anyone else, I would tell her that I’m never this flirty and something in her has sparked to life a new side of me. It’s a line I’ve used many times before and usually works. But right now it feels true, at least the part about Avery sparking something inside me. I’ve never been this entranced by a woman, and I still haven’t figured out what it is about her that intrigues me so much. It’s more than the challenge she presents. More than her outward beauty.
“Yes,” I say, letting my smile shift to one of self-deprecation. “It’s a blessing and a curse.”
“Blessing for you, curse for the rest of us?”
I gasp in mock offense and pull her hand to my chest. “You wound me, Avery.”
“Someone should. I think your head is altogether too big.” But she grins and shakes her head, that lovely blush making anappearance again. “You really want to spend all week with an uptight weirdo like me?”
“Neither of those are words I would use to describe you.”
“You don’t know me, remember?”
I don’t think it will take much more persuasion to get her to join me, but I might as well pull out the big guns and list out the things I’ve learned about her so far. I lean in, dropping my voice so she has to lean too. “I know you love flowers and mosaics and that you enjoy romance novels and possibly are a bit of a classic literature snob on top of that. You have a thing for dogs and chocolate—not together of course—and ramble when you’re tired, even in a text.” I lift her fingers to my lips, then reach out with my other hand to tuck the loose strand of hair behind her ear. I have a feeling I’m going to be doing that a lot if she agrees. “I know you’re beautiful, even when you’re crying over a guy who obviously doesn’t deserve you, and you smell like peaches and have a smile that brings your whole face to life.”
That was too much. Avery is staring at me with wide eyes, and I don’t think I’ve ever said anything like that before—it’s enough to scare anyone off.Good work, Bens.
“Wow,” Avery whispers after a long moment. “You…” I hold my breath, waiting for her to tell me I’m a creep and she’ll be going about the rest of her trip the way she originally planned. “The only thing I know aboutyouis that you speak Italian and aren’t a very good friend.”
I bark out a laugh, lacing my fingers through hers and lowering our hands. “I also know you have a snarky side that is majorly attractive.”
“You like when I insult you?”
“I like that you’re not afraid to say what you mean. To be yourself.”
Something about my comment hits her in a way that dims her expression, leaving her muted. “I haven’t… I don’t remember the last time I was myself.”
I knew it. There’s more to Avery than a woman who has become scared to travel. There’s a whole different side of her, one I’ve seen pieces of and who has been making more of an appearance as the day has gone on. I would have been interested in her anyway, but that side of her feels like the kind of person I would enjoy every moment with. “So be you this week,” I tell her and take a few steps away from the basilica, our arms stretching out between us. “Let loose and don’t let fear hold you back.”
“How do I do that?” she asks. It’s not an argument against my idea, and I’m calling this a win. But I need to ease her into things.
I grin and nudge her forward so we can start walking. “You start with the most obvious.”
“Which is?”
I wink, recalling the conversation she had with her sister. “Gelato.”
Chapter 7
Avery
Bensondoesn’tlikechocolate.I knew there were people out there who have something painfully wrong with their taste buds, but I figured Benson was perfect. He has proven that to be true in the day and a half that we’ve been wandering Florence, but when we stepped into a chocolate shop after eating the most amazing pasta I’ve had in my life, he declined a sample.
A free sample.
“I am so disappointed right now,” I tell him, shaking my head as I pop my own sample into my mouth. Oh goodness, I forgot how good chocolate is when it’s made anywhere but the US. I might need to buy another suitcase just to bring chocolate back home with me.
Chuckling, he folds his arms and stands off to the side so I can see all the chocolate varieties on the shelf. “It’s not my thing.”
“What happened to letting loose and trying everything?” It’s what he’s been saying to me for a day and a half now. “I tried thatlamp thing from the street vendor yesterday; why won’t you try a little chocolate?”
He chuckles. “Lampredotto. And you loved that.”
“What was it?” He wouldn’t tell me before I tried a bite, and then it was so good that I didn’t care. Now that it’s been a day and I am pleasantly full of penne noodles and cheese sauce, curiosity is coming back. The lampredotto was some sort of meat sandwich, but the spongy texture wasn’t something I’ve ever tried before coming here.
