“
I draw in a long breath, and then it catches in my throat as his hand closes over mine, still wrapped around his waist.
“Siamo arrivati,” he says gently.
I have to get off first, I realize. And I’m embarrassed that it takes me a while to unwind my arms. Luca starts to turn and I realize with horror that my skirt is practically up around my waist: this galvanizes me and I jump off so fast I nearly fall over, dragging down my skirt so he can’t see my thighs. I’m wobbling, shaken up by the ride, and I hear him huff a little laugh of amusement as he swings his leg over to sit on the seat facing me, unbuckling his helmet.
“You like to ride on a Vespa?”
I take my helmet off and hand it back to him.
“Well, it’s bumpy,” I say.
I can’t really see his face, it’s so dark out here. There are a couple of lights on the villa walls, one over the main door, but that’s higher up; the parking lot is around the side, barely illuminated.
He stands up, towering over me, and puts the helmets down on the seat.
“And loud,” he says. “You know what ‘vespa’ means?”
I shake my head, my mouth suddenly dry, because he’s taken a step toward me, and his legs are so long that one step means he’s already standing in front of me, close enough to touch.
“It means ‘wasp,’” he says softly. “Because it makes a sound like a wasp. How do you say that?”
“Buzzing,” I manage. “It buzzes.”
“Buzzes,” Luca says, and his accent makes the word sound so funny that I can’t help laughing.
“You laugh at me?” he asks, and though he’s put on a serious voice, as if he’s annoyed, somehow I know he isn’t. “Girls never laugh at me. You are the only one.”
“Well, maybe they should,” I say without thinking.
“No,” he says firmly. “Only you can laugh at me.
”
”