How To Survive A Hot Italian Summer
Автор
Frida Mo
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Two Guys, a Girl, and an Italian Place
Step 1 of surviving the summer: Hook up with hot Italian guys ;)
The text from my best friend, Ane, made my mouth twist into a smile, right before my mom’s voice snapped me back to reality from the front seat of the taxi.
I turned the volume up and pretended to be asleep, with the hoodie pulled tight over my head and cheek pressed against the window.
“Lisa, we’re here,” Mom said.
I cracked one eye open, annoyed. “Yeah, whatever.”
I wasn’t ready for this. Not Sardinia. Not a new family. And definitely not her friend.
Stepping out of the car, the heat hit me hard, making my tracksuit stick to my skin. Next to me, Mom glowed in her new flowery summer dress.
“Welcome!” a voice called from behind us.
Mom turned. “Such a gorgeous holiday home, Lorenzo. No wonder you love coming here.”
He looked unmistakably Italian, his black hair slicked back. He spread his arms, hugged Mom, and kissed her on each cheek—for just a little too long, making me feel like I was melting from the inside out.
Friend, right? I glared at them.
He walked over to me and held out his hand.
“And you must be Lisa?” he said in a heavy Italian accent.
“You must be Lorenzo,” I said, my tone perhaps overly passive-aggressive. Mom immediately shot me that look.
“As beautiful as your mother,” he said, unfazed. “I’ve been told you’re quite the swimmer?”
“I haven’t swum in six months, and I hate sunbathing, so I hope you have Wi-Fi,” I said, staring him straight in the eye.
“Lisa!” Mom said and eyed me.
“It’s okay,” Lorenzo said with a smile. “There’s plenty to do. My youngest son’s about your age; he can show you around. My boys practically grew up between here and Norway.”
Unimpressed, I just grunted. Before I could stop him, he had already picked up my suitcase.
“Maybe you should change into something lighter?” My mom let her eyes drift down my tracksuit.
I rolled my eyes. My only desire was to lock myself in my room.
I glanced toward the enormous villa. Half hidden behind twisted olive trees and overgrown bougainvillea, the walls were white and rough with age. Terracotta roof tiles stuck out from the branches. It felt modest and luxurious at once.
“Here he is,” Lorenzo said as we stepped into the living room. “This is Milo, my youngest.”
I took off my sunglasses. “Hey,” I said.
He offered his hand and gave me a warm smile. “Nice to meet you.”
The tips of his brown hair were sun-bleached, and it curled slightly around his temples, as if he had spent most of the summer in the ocean. His skin was already golden from the sun, and his dark eyes were observant—as if he were taking me in, not just looking.
He didn’t look awkward or unsure. He looked comfortable. And annoyingly, he was exactly my type.
“Mhm,” I mumbled.
“I told Lisa you could show her around a bit tomorrow,” Lorenzo said to Milo.
“But I have plans tomorrow; I’m meeting some friends.”
“You can meet your friends later,” he said with no room for negotiation.
I felt sorry for him. The poor guy didn’t really have a choice. He was stuck dragging me around, a miserable piece of emotional baggage with a poor attitude and way too many feelings.
“You don’t have to change your plans for me,” I said. “I don’t really feel like going out anyway. Could you just show me my room? I’m tired.”
“Understandable,” Lorenzo said, placing a hand on my shoulder. “Come on, I’ll show you your room, sweetheart.”
I had barely climbed a couple of steps when I heard his footsteps.
He came down the stairs in the opposite direction, barefoot and unhurried. There was an ease to him you couldn’t fake. His hair hung in loose waves, still rough with salt, grazing his shoulders.
Our eyes met for a moment—his were blue, not frosty blue, but alive, like the thin blue edge of a breaking wave. He was only wearing swim trunks, bare-chested, his skin tanned from the sun.
I forgot to keep on walking. My legs stopped.
Then the heat hit—not the good kind, but the embarrassing, sticky kind that crawls up your chest and settles in your cheeks. I knew I was staring too long, but I couldn’t stop myself.
I tried to pretend I was looking at the railing. Or a mark on the wall. Anything but him.
“Jacob, say hi to Lisa,” Lorenzo said behind me.
My throat tightened. “H-hey,” I stammered. I could barely hold his gaze.
“Hey,” he said, with a teasing smile, like he’d seen right through me, like he knew exactly what effect he had. Or maybe he was just making fun; I couldn’t tell.
For a moment, the world seemed to shrink to just us.
He stepped past, close enough that the heat from his body brushed against me, carrying the scent of coconut sunscreen, intoxicating in a way that made my knees weaken. I suddenly felt unsteady inside my body and realized my face had gone numb.
He stopped right beside me.
“That looks hot,” he said, his eyes dragging slowly over my body, making my pulse feel like a trapped bird.
Did he just—
“What?”
His mouth twitched. “Your outfit. You realize it’s thirty degrees, right?”
Oh.
Heat flooded my face.
“That’s none of your business,” I snapped, hating that he’d caught me off guard.
He shook his head and muttered, “Kids these days…” before turning back to his dad. Didn’t apologize. Just brushed past me as if I were something he had already decided not to want.
“I’m going to the beach,” he said, not even looking my way, as if I didn’t exist.
Then he greeted my mom as if they’d known each other for years and disappeared.
Lorenzo gave me a small, apologetic smile before helping me carry my luggage to my bedroom.
“Here it is,” he said.
The room was big, and the view stretched over the pool area with the beach in the background. It smelled like saltwater and washed sheets.
“Here’s how you control the air conditioning,” Lorenzo explained. “Is there anything I can get you? Something to drink? Food?”
“No, I’m good,” I said, throwing myself onto the bed.
When he closed the door behind him, I grabbed my phone and called Ane.
“You’re there already?” she asked, out of breath. “What’s it like? Show me!”
I stood up, turned the camera, and recorded the room and the sea view.
“That looks amazing, Lisa! I wish I were there.”
“You can take my place,” I muttered.
“So…how are the new stepbrothers?”
That painfully awkward first encounter made my face burn up again. “I haven’t really talked to them, but one of them came across as almost rude.”
“Rude? Like, what did he say?”
“He’s just that…too-cool-for-school type, you know?”
“Are they my type, then?” she smirked.
“Both of them are,” I smirked. Then my smile faded. “Dad’s been gone for six months, Ane. And she’s already playing happy family.”
“If you want to piss her off, dig out the shortest dress you have, party like crazy, stay out late, and hook up with some much older guy.”
I laughed. “You’re crazy.”
But when we hung up, I didn’t laugh anymore.
Maybe Ane was right. If Mom wanted a happy family, I’d give her a performance.
Jacob had looked at me as if I were invisible. Milo, like I was a problem.
That was about to change.
