Page 42 of Better Than Gelato
“We’re going to head to the back and see what the boys are up to,” Lorenzo says.
“Hogging the pool table,” the bartender offers.
Before we even make it to the back room, the three guys who were playing pool drop their sticks and walk toward us.
“She showed? I don’t believe it!” says one guy with a neatly trimmed beard.
“He has all the luck,” says another, shorter guy.
“It’s not luck,” says the third. “Lorenzo has the gift.”
Pretending he didn’t hear any of this, Lorenzo closes the gap and introduces us.
“Julieta, these are my friends. Nico, Luca, and Giorgio.Ragazzi, this is Julieta.”
There arepiaceresand cheek kisses, and then Luca says, “Are you up for some pool?”
I try to play well. I really do. But my first shot jumps off the table, and my second shot sinks two of their balls. Lorenzo does that thing no man can resist where they stand behind you and show you how to hold the stick. It doesn’t help. We lose badly.
“Do you feel like dancing?” he asks afterward.
“Yes,” I say. I’m much better on a dance floor than a pool table.
“Perfect, I know a great spot near here.”
In the month I’ve been here, I’ve only ever been to Calypso. This club’s a lot flashier. A neon sign out front saysDIAMANTE. Diamond. French doors open onto a double staircase that leads down to the dance floor. Each step is embedded with glittering stones that catch the light from the chandelier. It feels like walking on stars.
The dance floor is a dense forest of moving bodies, and the pounding music stops my brain from working, in the best way.
Lorenzo is a good dancer. His hips sway to the beat of the music, and occasionally he takes my hand and twirls me around. When a bachata song comes on, he pulls me close, and I can feel the skin on the back of his neck, hot and slick with sweat. His heart is beating fast. Or maybe it’s just the bass.
The chemistry between us has been building all night and by the time Lorenzo walks me to the Rossis’ apartment, I’m dangerously close to kissing him. Everything in me is geared up for that moment. One look in his eyes tells me I'm not the only one.
And that’s when the guilt comes crushing in with brutal clarity.
What am I doing? I’m dating Jake. Whatever mental trick let me ignore that fact all night has abandoned me now.I can’t do this. I shouldn’t even be here. I stand on tiptoes and kiss Lorenzo on his cheek.
“Thank you for a lovely evening,” I say. “I really enjoyed it.”
The disappointment in his eyes is clear.
“Thank you for joining me.”
I still want to kiss him. I know that if I make eye contact right now and go up on my tiptoes again, we’ll be kissing in less than two seconds. Instead, I keep my feet firmly planted, look at his chin and say:
“Goodnight, Lorenzo.”
“Goodnight, Julieta” he says.
He’s holding my hand. I still have a chance to lean in and kiss him. But I don’t. I give his hand a squeeze and then let go. I turn and walk toward my apartment, relief and disappointment flooding through me.
* * *
I spend the next day moping around the Rossi house grumpy and confused. Lorenzo texts me in the morning, asking when we can go out again, but I don’t respond. My brain is firing questions at me:Am I going to keep dating Jake? Am I going to go out with Lorenzo again? Am I going to convince Paolo to let me join him in the mafia?
Isa notices my mood and makes me a cup of tea. It’s the nicest thing I’ve seen her do. We read three more chapters ofHarry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone.
I go to Calypso with the crew on Wednesday night and bring my camera for some photo therapy. I’ve gotten two more texts from Lorenzo. I hate that I’ve turned into the kind of girl that ghosts a nice guy, but I don’t know what else to do. And I have no idea what to tell Jake when he gets home.
