Page 37 of Better Than Gelato
“We absolutely will,” I tell him.
And without another word, he leads us back to the gate, unlocks it and ushers us through.
“Grazie.Buonanotte,” I say, wishing him a good night.
“Buonanotte,” he tells me, and he’s smiling now. “Visit again soon.” He gives me a wink.
I think the incidences of winking in Italy is substantially higher than in the US.
“Wow.” Jake says, visibly relieved. “You totally charmed that old guy. He didn’t even yell at us.”
“Italians are romantics,” I say. “I guarantee you, thirty years ago, that guy was doing the same thing.”
We grab some hot chocolate to warm up, and I’m feeling content and cozy.
And then the night takes a disastrous turn.
“You look beautiful tonight,” Jake says.
“I think it’s the chocolate. Everything seems more beautiful when you’re sipping this stuff.”
“Maybe. But you also looked beautiful an hour ago on the boat. How do you explain that?”
I shake my head and smile. “I have no explanation for that.”
“Ah hah!” he says, like he’s caught me. It makes me laugh.
“You know how hot chocolate makes everything better?” he says. “You do the same thing. Everything is better when you’re around. Even when you’re not around. I remember the funny things you say while I’m working in the lab. I think about getting to see you again when I’m off work. You make me really happy.”
I’m about to respond, but Jake continues.
“I think I might be falling in love with you.”
It’s like someone dropped a gallon of ice water on me.
“No. That’s a terrible idea,” I blurt before I can stop myself.
Jake tilts his head to the side. He waits a second before asking, “Why is that a terrible idea?”
My mind races for an appropriate response.Because I might not fall in love with you back? Because it feels like too much pressure? Because I don’t want to be trapped in a serious relationship?
I can’t say any of those things. My brain searches for a different explanation.I’m a spy, working for the CIA, and I can’t get involved with anyone.It seems far-fetched, even for me.Maybe I’m a vampire. Wasn’t that the hip thing a few years back?Jake sits there patiently puzzled. I opt for part of the truth.
“It just feels really fast.”
“Yeah, I guess it is. It’s just, the more I get to know you…You’re smart, you’re funny, you’re beautiful. I like every new thing I learn about you.”
Oh man, he’s making it worse. How can I stop this conversation immediately?
“Look, I know you might not be where I am right now,” he says, “and I get that. I’m not trying to scare you.” He must see the panic in my eyes. “But I wanted you to know where I’m at. I’m really enjoying my time with you. And I see a lot of potential in this relationship. For the future.”
Did he just say future? We’ve been dating for three weeks, and we’re having a future talk?! Out. I’ve got to get out.
I take a drink of my hot chocolate to buy myself some time. We’re not on the same page. This is clear. I need to end this relationship immediately before things get worse.
But then another thought hits me.What kind of heartless jerk breaks up with her boyfriend the night before he interviews at Harvard?
“Hey, I see that I freaked you out,” Jake says. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t my intention.” He’s rubbing the back of his neck, and his cheeks have gone pink. Probably because I haven’t said anything in five minutes. “I was trying to be honest. But you know what they say about honesty in a relationship. Totally overrated.”
