Love & Gelato

by Jenna Evans Welch

  “Hey, the hedges are a maze.” I leaned over the balcony. The hedges around the front door were actually part of a carefully sculpted pattern interspersed with old-looking statues and benches.

  “Cool, right? They have this ancient gardener who has spent half his life pruning those things.”

  “It looks like you could actually get lost.”

  “You can. Once Marco wandered out there and we couldn’t find him for like three hours. We had to come up here with a spotlight. He was sleeping on his shoes.”

  “Why his shoes?”

  “I have no idea. You want to hear something really creepy?”

  I shook my head. “Not really.”

  “Elena’s older sister, Manuela, refuses to live here because ever since she was little she’s had this ancestor appear to her. The spooky part is that whenever the ghost appears she’s the same age as Manuela.”

  “No wonder she’s at boarding school.” I leaned against the railing. “This place is making me feel way better about living in a cemetery.”

  “Telling ghost stories?”

  I jumped, practically toppling over the edge.

  “Lina! You’re like the Incredible Startled Girl,” Ren said.

  “Sorry, guys. Didn’t mean to scare you.” A boy sat up on one of the couches and stretched his arms over his head.

  “Hi, Thomas. Spy much?”

  “I have a headache. I was just trying to get away from the noise for a while. Who are you with?” He stood up and lazily made his way over to us.

  OM . . . And then I couldn’t remember how to end the acronym, because who looks like this?

  Thomas was tall and thin with dark brown hair and thick eyebrows, and he had this strong-jaw thing going on that I’d heard about but never actually witnessed. And his lips. They were pretty much ruining any chance I had of forming words.

  “Lina?” Ren was raising one eyebrow. Crap. Did they ask me something?

  “Sorry, what’d you say?”

  The boy grinned. “I just said that I’m Thomas. And I gather that you’re the mysterious Carolina?” He had a British accent.

  A British. Accent.

  “Yes. Nice to meet you. I go by Lina.” I shook his hand, doing my best to stay upright. Apparently “weak in the knees” was a real thing.

  “American?”

  “Yeah. Seattle. You?”

  “All over. I’ve lived here for the past two years.”

  The door swung open and Elena and Mimi walked in. “Ragazzi, dai. My mom will freak out it if she finds out you are up here. I had a forty-five-minute lecture after the last party. Some idiota left a piece of pizza on a two-hundred-year-old credenza. Come downstairs, per favore!”

  “Sorry, El,” Thomas and Ren said in unison.

  “I was just showing Lina the garden,” Ren said. “And Thomas was taking a nap.”

  “Who takes a nap at a party? It’s lucky you look like a god, because you’re veramente strano. Really, Thomas.”

  Like a god. I snuck another look at Thomas. Yep. Could totally imagine him lounging around on Mt. Olympus.

  Mimi linked arms with Ren and everyone walked out except for Thomas and me. Was I making this up, or was he staring at me, too?

  Thomas crossed his arms. “A bunch of us made bets on whether or not you’d ever show. Looks like I’m going to be out twenty euro.”

  “I was supposed to move here earlier this year, but I decided to finish out the school year in Seattle.”

  “Still doesn’t change the fact that you owe me twenty euro.”

  “I don’t owe you anything. Maybe next time you should have a little more faith in me.”

  He grinned, raising one eyebrow. “I’ll let you off the hook this one time.”

  My bones were roughly the consistency of strawberry jelly. He was so flirting with me.

  “Did I hear you live in a cemetery?”

  “My dad’s the caretaker for the Florence American Cemetery. I’m staying with him for the summer.”

  “The whole summer?”

  “Yes.”

  A slow smile spread across his face. I was smiling too.

  “Thomas!” Elena shrieked from the doorway.

  “Sorry.” We both followed her out of the room.

  So this is what it’s like to be normal. Well, sort of normal.

  “First concert you ever went to.” Most everyone had moved outside to the pool and Thomas and I were sitting with our feet in the deep end. The water was glowing bright blue and either the stars had dropped down to our level or fireflies were everywhere.

  “Jimmy Buffett.”

  “Really? Margaritaville guy?”

  “I’m surprised you know who that is. And yeah, it was pretty much a sea of Hawaiian shirts. My mom took me.”

  We both ducked as a spray of water came our way. Half the party was playing a rowdy alcohol-fueled game of Marco Polo, and Marco kept getting stuck as, well, Marco. It was way funnier than it should have been.

  “Okay, favorite movie.”

  “You’re going to make fun of me.”

  “No, I won’t. I promise.”

  “Fine. Dirty Dancing.”

  “Dirty Dancing . . .” He tipped his head back. “Oh, right. That horrible eighties movie with Patrick Swayze as a dance teacher.”

  I splashed him. “It isn’t horrible. And why do you know so much about it anyway?”

  “Two older sisters.”

  He scooted in to me until our bodies touched from shoulder to hip. It was the exact sensation of licking a nine-volt battery.

  “. . . So you’re a runner, you’re from one of the coolest cities in the U.S., you have horrible taste in movies, you once blacked out snowboarding, and you’ve never tried sushi.”

  “Or rock climbing,” I added.

  “Or rock climbing.”

  Addie, you were so right. I splashed my feet around happily, sneaking another glance at Thomas. I was never going to hear the end of it. Who knew that guys this good-looking even existed? And, side note, he’d just slipped his arm around me. Like it was no big deal.

  “So why did you move here?” Thomas asked.

  “I came to stay with my dad. He’s, uh . . . sort of new in my life.”

  “Gotcha.”

  There was a crashing noise, and suddenly Ren came careening out of the darkness behind us. “Lina, it’s twelve thirty!”

  “Already?” I pulled my feet out of the water and Thomas dropped his arm. I stood reluctantly.

  “We have to go now. He’ll kill me! He’ll kill me. ” Ren clutched his hands to his chest and fell over on the grass.

  “He’s not going to kill you.”

  “Who’s going to kill you?” Thomas asked.

  “Lina’s dad. The first time I talked to him he said he had a bullet with my name on it.”

  “No, he didn’t.” I looked at him. “Wait. Did he?”

  “He might as well have.” He rolled to his knees, then stood up. “Come on. We have to leave now.”

  “You have a bunch of grass in your hair,” I said.

  He shook his head like a dog, sending grass flying. “I was rolling down a hill.”

  “A Swedish hill?” Thomas asked.

  “I didn’t ask its nationality.”

  I groaned. “Is it really twelve thirty? Maybe we could stay for just another twenty minutes or something.”

  Ren threw his hands in the air. “Lina. Don’t you care whether I live or die?”

  “Of course I care. I just wish we didn’t have to leave.”

  Thomas stood too, then wrapped his arms around me, his chin resting heavily on my shoulder. “But, Lina, it’s so early. I’ll be so bored without you. Can’t you get an extension?”

  Ren raised an eyebrow. “I see things have progressed in the last couple of hours.”

  My mouth would not stop smiling. I turned my face so Ren wouldn’t see. “Sorry, Thomas. I do have to leave.”

  He blew air out of his mouth. “Fine. Guess
we’ll just have to hang out again.”

  “Ciao, tutti,” Ren yelled to the group. “I have to take Lina home. She has a curfew.”

  There was a chorus of  “Ciao, Linas.”

  “Ciao,” I yelled back.

  “Wait!” Marcus pulled himself out of the pool. “What about the initiation? She has to do it.”

  “What initiation?” I asked.

  “She has to walk the plank.”

  Ren groaned. “Marco, that’s dumb. We stopped doing that in like seventh grade.”

  “Hey, you guys made me do it, and that was just last year,” Olivier protested. “Also, it was November. I froze my balls off.”

  “Yes, she must do it,” another girl chimed in. “It is tradition.”

  “She is wearing jeans,” Elena said. “È troppo mean.”

  “Doesn’t matter! Rules are rules!”

  Thomas sidled up next to me. “If you jump, I’ll jump too.”

  Cut to mental image of Thomas soaking wet.

  I turned to Ren. “How much will you hate me if you have to drive me home drenched?”

  “Not as much as you’ll hate yourself.”

  I kicked off my sandals and headed for the diving board.

  “New girl’s going for it!” Marco whooped.

  The whole party broke out in wild applause as I climbed up on the diving board, then bowed. Is this me? Too late to wonder. I sprinted down the board, bouncing high and tucking into the world’s most perfect cannonball.

  I felt the most alive I had in more than a year. Maybe ever.

  Chapter 10

  SO MAYBE SOGGY SCOOTER RIDING wasn’t my most brilliant idea. By the time we pulled up to the house I was shaking like crazy. Also, the pool had reactivated my hair’s natural crazy, and when I took off my helmet, my hair fluffed around my head like a cloud.

  “Are you shivering because you’re cold or because you’re terrified?”

  “Cold. Ren, come on. We’re an hour late. What’s he going to do?”

  The front door burst open and Howard stepped into the doorway, his enormous silhouette illuminated against the light.

  Now we were both shivering.

  “Want me to come in with you?” Ren whispered.

  I shook my head. “Thanks for the ride. I really had a lot of fun.”

  “Me too. See you tomorrow. Good luck.”

  I waddled up to the door, my jeans sticking to my legs. “Sorry I’m late. We lost track of time.”

  He squinted at me. “Is your hair wet?”

  “They made me walk the plank.”

  “The plank?”

  “It’s their initiation ritual. I jumped into the pool.”

  A faint smile glimmered under his stern look. “So tonight was a success.”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m glad to hear it.” He looked over my head. “Good night, Ren.”

  “Good night, Mr. . . . Carolina’s dad.” He spun his scooter around and took off in a spray of gravel.

  “Hello, hello,” a woman said as I followed Howard into the house.

  Sonia and four other people were sitting on the couches, wineglasses in hand. Jazz music was playing in the background and everyone looked a little tipsy. Apparently Howard was having a party too. Cemetery-style. Maybe later they’d all dive into the little pools in front of the memorial.

  “Everyone, this is Lina,” Sonia said. “Lina, everyone.”

  “Hi.”

  “Che bella. You are a beauty,” an older woman in cat-eyed-glasses purred.

  Howard grinned. “Isn’t she?”

  “We are old friends of your dad’s,” one of the men said in deliberate English. “We’ve known him since his wild stallion days. Oh, the stories we could tell.”

  “Yeah,” the guy next to him chimed in. “He wasn’t giving you a hard time about being late, was he? Because maybe I should tell you about the time we went backpacking through Hungary and he—”

  “That’s enough,” Howard said quickly. “Lina went for a little swim, so I’m sure she wants to go upstairs and get changed.”

  “Pity,” Cat Eyes said.

  “Good night,” I said.

  “Good night,” they all chorused back.

  I clambered up the stairs. I was freezing.

  “She’s the photographer’s daughter?” It was Cat Eyes. I froze.

  “Yes. She’s Hadley’s.”

  Silence.

  And . . . yours, too, right? I waited for him to clarify, but someone just changed the subject.

  What was that about?

  I FaceTimed Addie as soon as I was in dry clothes. “You ready to say ‘I told you so’?”

  “I am always ready to say ‘I told you so.’ Oh my gosh! How was it? Amazing?” She started bouncing up and down on her bed.

  I turned down the volume on my computer. “Yes. A-mazing.”

  “Please tell me you met the hottest of hot Italian guys.”

  “I did. But he’s not Italian. He’s British.”

  She squealed. “Even better! Is he online? I have to stalk him.”

  “I don’t know. I didn’t ask.”

  “I’ll look him up. What’s his name?”

  “Thomas Heath.”

  “Even his name is attractive.” She was quiet for a minute as she typed in his name. “Thomas . . . Heath . . . Florence . . .” She inhaled sharply. “HOLY MOTHER OF HOTNESS. That is the best hair I have ever seen. He looks like a model. Maybe an underwear model.”

  “Right?”

  “Have you seen him without his shirt on? You have to get online and see these pictures. Great. Now you’ll never come back to Seattle. Why would you when Thomas Heath is—”

  “Addie, slow down! It doesn’t matter how hot he is. I’m not staying here.”

  “What do you mean it doesn’t matter? You can have a summer fling, can’t you? And wow. I mean, really, wow. That is one good-looking guy. What’s your other friend’s name?”

  “Ren. But his full name is Lorenzo Ferrara.”

  “Yeah, you’re gonna have to spell that for me.”

  “His mom said it’s like ‘Ferrari’ but with an a.”

  “Ferrari with an a . . .” She bit her lip and typed into her keyboard. “Curly hair? Plays soccer?”

  “That’s him.”

  She grinned at me. “Well, Lina, you’re two for two. Ren’s adorable. So if Underwear Model doesn’t work out, you’re still in good shape.”

  “No, Ren’s off the table. I met his girlfriend tonight. She’s like Sadie Danes, only Swedish. And Photoshopped.”

  “Shut up. Did you run for your life?”

  “Pretty much. She didn’t seem all that happy that Ren brought some new girl along.”

  Addie sighed, falling back on her pillow. “I’m spending the rest of the summer living vicariously through you. And I know the cemetery thing is weird, but now I’m one hundred percent on board with you being there. You have to stay there for at least a little while. Do it for me. Please!”

  “We’ll see. How’s Matt?”

  “Still not getting the message that I’m interested. But who cares about him? On a scale of one to ten, how weird would it be if I printed out Thomas’s profile picture and had it framed?”

  I laughed. “Weird. Even for you.”

  “Or how about I make a Thomas calendar? ‘Twelve Months of British Hotness.’ Do you think you could get more pictures of him with his shirt off? Maybe you could spill Kool-Aid or something on him next time you’re together.”

  “Yeah, definitely not doing that.”

  She sighed again. “You’re right. That would be pretty weird. So how’s the journal?”

  “I’m just about to read more.” I hesitated. “Last night was kind of hard, but it was nice, too. She really loved it here.”

  “And so will you. And so will I. Vicariously.”

  I shook my head. “We’ll see.”

  “Okay, you get back to the journal. I want to know what her wrong choice was. T
he suspense is killing me.”

  “Night, Addie.”

  “Morning, Lina.”

  JULY 2

  Florence is exactly how I thought it would be and nothing like it at all. It is absolutely magical—the cobblestones, the old buildings, the bridges—and yet it’s gritty, too. You’ll be walking down the most charming street you’ve ever seen and suddenly get a whiff of open sewer or step in something disgusting. The city enchants you, then brings you right back down to reality. I’ve never been anyplace that I want to capture so much. I spend a lot of time photographing things that seem uniquely Italian—laundry hanging in alleyways, red geraniums planted in old tomato-sauce cans—but mostly I try to capture the people. Italians are so expressive; you never have to guess what they’re feeling.

  Tonight I watched the sun set at Ponte Vecchio. I think its safe to say I have finally found the place that feels right to me. I just can’t believe I had to come halfway across the world to find it.

  JULY 9

  Francesca has officially inducted me into her circle of friends. They were all at FAAF last semester too, and they’re smart and hilarious, and I secretly wonder if they’re being followed around by reality-TV cameras. How can this many interesting people be together in one spot? Here’s our cast of characters:

  Howard: The perfect Southern gentleman (Southern giant, Francesca calls him), handsome, kind, and the sort of guy who will go marching into battle for you. He’s in a research program studying Florence history, and when he isn’t teaching he sits in on a lot of our classes.

  Finn: An Ernest Hemingway wannabe from Martha’s Vineyard. He pretends to just happen to have a full beard and a penchant for turtlenecks, but we all know he spends half his time reading The Sun Also Rises.

  Adrienne: French and probably the prettiest person I’ve ever seen in real life. She is very quiet and unbelievably talented.

  Simone and Alessio: I’m grouping them together because they are ALWAYS together. They grew up together just outside of Rome and are constantly getting into fistfights—typically over the fact that neither of them has ever dated a girl that the other didn’t immediately fall in love with.

  And finally . . .

  Me: Pretty boring. American wannabe photographer who has been giddy since the moment her plane touched down in Florence.