Page 36 of Better Than Gelato
I pull back to catch my breath. I look up at him, and wow. He’s staring down at me with brown eyes like glowing embers.
And that mouth. I can’t help it. I kiss him again and it feels like fireworks going off everywhere. I break away when I hear another bus approaching.
“I’ve got to go,” I say.
“Okay,” he says.
Neither one of us moves. The bus driver gives a beep-beep that makes me jump.
“Good night,” I say and climb on the bus.
“Good night,” Jake calls behind me.
I make my way to a seat and catch a glimpse of my reflection in the dirty bus window. My lips are swollen, and my eyes are glazed. My messy bun is more mess than bun. I’ve never looked happier.
ChapterEight
Jake leaves for med school interviews in America tomorrow. Am I going to miss him like crazy? Yes. We’ve spent every free moment together for the past two weeks. Am I also a little relieved he’s going away for two weeks? Yes. We’ve spent Every. Free. Moment. Together. For a girl that doesn’t love being in a relationship, it’s been a lot.
Tonight he planned a special date for us, a nighttime tour of the Navigli Canals. The evening is cold, and the air smells like winter has arrived. We snuggle together in a little wooden boat while a guide tells us how Leonardo di Vinci built the canals to bring goods into the city. I listen to the water lap against the stone walls of the canal and watch the bare branches sway in the breeze.
“This is spectacular,” I whisper to Jake.
“I’m so happy you like it,” he whispers back.
And I can see that he means it. He keeps darting glances at me, like he wants to make sure I’m having a good time. So much of his pleasure is derived from my enjoyment. I think of how happy he was introducing me to Italian hot chocolate and the way he always watches me eat. Me being happy makes him happy, which I appreciate. It also makes me deeply uncomfortable to be responsible for someone else’s happiness.
The boat tour ends, but it’s still early, so we meander through the neighborhood. This area has a different feeling than other parts of Milan. Older maybe, or slower.
We come to a park with tall iron gates with a sign saying the park closes at sunset. A firm shake of the gate confirms that they’re locked.
“Too bad, it looks like a cool park,” Jake says.
“It does,” I murmur. There are giant trees with branches that hang down almost to the ground. I look up to the top of the gate.
Jake says, “Uh oh,” before I’ve even taken the first step. I look down the road. There’s no one out. There aren’t even that many lights on in this area. I give Jake my most persuasive look. And then without waiting for a response, I stick the toe of my shoe into the iron gate and start climbing. It’s not that tall, and the gate is all horizontal bars, very easy to climb. I’m on the other side in less than a minute. I wander down the path, and it gets even darker in the densely wooded park.
Behind me I hear a light thump, and I know Jake has made it over. I don’t look back, but seconds later, I feel his arms wrap around me.
“We’ve snuck into a park,” he murmurs. “What other mischievous things should we do?”
I don’t say anything, but I take his hand and lead him to a bench nearly obscured by long branches. I sit down and pull him down next to me. It’s so dark I can just see his outline. I touch his face. Feel his full mouth, run my hand across his cheek and then into his hair. I pull his face to mine and kiss him gently.
He tastes like mint. His arms wrap around me, pulling me closer to him. His lips leave mine and go to my neck just below my ear. My breath catches, and Jake’s arms tighten in response. He softly kisses all the way down to my collarbone. He scoops me onto his lap and we’re a tangle of limbs on a park bench. I want to stay here until the end of the world.
Then I see a blinking light coming through the darkness.
“Jake,” I whisper. “Don’t make a sound.”
Jake goes still. I can’t see his face clearly, but his posture looks so nervous and guilty I start giggling. The light gets closer, and I make out a guy in a uniform. I jump off the bench and head in his direction. We’re caught. No sense making him duck under all the branches.
“Buonasera,” I say. Good evening.
“Buenasera, signorina,” he says, sizing me up. “The park is closed for the night.”
“I know. I just wanted to take a closer look. I’ve never seen such wonderful trees.”
“Grazie,” he says, as though he planted each tree himself. “Perhaps you’ll come back and enjoy our lovely park during the day.”
