Book: Wish You Were Italian
Quotes of Book: Wish You Were Italian
So tell me about you. Who is Pippa, in the broad scheme of things?" He winks.
I return the smile. "Well, I'm an only child, born and raised in Chicago--"
"Ah, Chicago. That's the accent."
"I told you before, I don't have an accent."
"To ears you don't." He laughs. "But it's definitely there to the rest of us."
"Is that a bad thing?"
"No," he says. "It's cute."
Oh, I might die. A boy used the word "cute." And when describing something about me. I can't look at him.
"Well, I can't really hear your accent," I say.
"That's what happens when you move all the time. I can sound like I'm from wherever I want."
"Prove it. Let's hear a British accent."
"I think technically it's called an accent, and no. I don't work on demand."
I give Darren a little shove. "Come on, pansy. Just a wee little sampling," I say, attempting the accent myself.
He bites back a laugh. "That was…rubbish. And Scottish, if we're being picky."
"Hey!" I say, shoving him harder like I'm twelve. book-quoteDo you want to be a professor too?"He shrugs. "Maybe one day. I'd like to travel more first though, work on dig sites in places like Greece or Central America. Ancient civilizations are buried everywhere. It's, like, no matter where you walk, you never know what could be under your feet. I want a job that lets me see all the things I want to see before I get stuck behind a desk.""I know what you mean. I can't wait to see the world and document it, photojournalist style." An image of the two of us traveling together pops into my mind: him digging up the world and me taking pictures of it. I squash those butterflies too. "Yeah?" he asks, his smile finally revealing teeth. "I can see you doing that, like for or something.""You haven't even seen any of my pictures," I scoff. " Besides, can you imagine how competitive a job that would be? Those photographers are incredible. They have years of experience under their belts. I'm not even eighteen years old yet.""Doesn't matter. You've got time," he says. "You know what someone said to me once? Figure out what you love doing, then figure out how to make money doing it."I turn the thought over in my head. "I like that."He smiles, plunging his hands into his pockets. "So tell me about you. Who is Pippa, in the broad scheme of things?" He winks.I return the smile. "Well, I'm an only child, born and raised in Chicago--""Ah, Chicago. That's the accent.""I told you before, I don't have an accent.""To ears you don't." He laughs. "But it's definitely there to the rest of us.""Is that a bad thing?""No," he says. "It's cute."Oh, I might die. A boy used the word "cute." And when describing something about me. I can't look at him. book-quoteChiara," Darren finally says. "Everything okay?"Greasy Guy looks Darren up and down with narrowed eyes and spits out what I'm guessing is a question. Darren responds, calmly, in Italian. It's the most I've ever heard him say in Italian, and I can't even tell if his accent's right, but it's seriously hot.They go back and forth a few times, Chiara chiming in once in a while. I pick out a word here and there, but I mostly make up what I think they could be talking about. My version sounds like this:Greasy Guy: "Who the bleep are you?"Darren: "A friend of Chiara's."Greasy Guy: "What kind of friend?" This is when he puffs up his chest to make himself look stronger.Chiara: "Not that kind of friend, so chill out. Besides, Pippa's got dibs on him."Darren: "Is there a problem?"Greasy Guy: "Yeah. You. How about you get out of my way?"Darren: "Chiara comes with us." This is when Darren nods in my direction and I back up a hair.Greasy Guy: "You can't have her. We're not through here."Chiara: "I should have cut ties with you years ago! You selfish piece of bleeping ble--"Greasy Guy: "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't put a dent in that pretty face of yours!"Chiara backs away and links her arm with mine, pulling me over to where Darren and I had stood. I turn my head to check on him. He's right behind us. Greasy Guy takes off toward Manarola.Okay, so my version of their conversation must not have been accurate. book-quoteHis little gray swim bottoms are probably smaller than mine, potbelly hanging over the top of them.
I lean toward Darren and whisper, "Take a picture of that. Five euros."
We both look back at the man just as he sheds his bottoms, revealing, well, everything.
"Oh, sick ," I screech, shrinking down and looking for something to hide under. I've seen a few sets of breasts on the beach so far--which is a little uncomfortable, though Darren does a good job pretending he doesn't see--but this is completely different.
I grab a towel and throw it over my head, laughing uncontrollably. Darren sits down cross-legged, our knees touching, and adjusts the towel to cover both of us. His lips fight back a smile. "I can't believe you're hiding from that fine specimen of a man," he says. "I'm sure he'd love it if you helped him reapply his sunscreen."
"Thanks for that visual nightmare!" I'm laughing so hard, I'm crying. I just saw some dude's thing. Just hanging out there. Morgan is going to die when she hears about this. "Did he put it away yet?" I ask.
Darren peeks out from under the towel. "He's still changing into his clothes."
I meet his eyes as I recover, catching my breath. We're too close. Our lungs-are-sharing-the-same-moist-air close. The thick towel blocks most of the sunlight from overhead, but it reflects off the sand, illuminating our faces from underneath. We sit perfectly still, holding the gaze. This could be it. The moment Darren kisses me. He raises a hand and I hold my breath…but all he does is lift the edge of the towel to look out. "He's done now. Aren't you disappointed? book-quoteThe short pieces of his black hair are spiked out every which way. The poor lighting from the singular bulb on the ceiling over the shower exaggerates the dark circles under his eyes. He looks rough.And why I find it incredibly hot is beyond me."Late night?" I ask.I'm staring. I shouldn't stare. Biting back a smirk at his disheveledness, I pull the band out of my hair, pretending that I need to redo my ponytail. Really, I just need a distraction."I'm going back to work today," I say, when he doesn't reply.He snatches my hand to keep me from putting my hair back up. "It is lovely down," he says softly.I'm frozen, watching him in the mirror as he smooths a section of my hair, grazing my bare neck with his fingers. Everything Chiara's said about him rushes to the front of my mind."Don't," I tell him, immediately wishing I hadn't.His hands are at my waist in an instant and he rotates me, pinning me between him and the counter. "Why?"Because your cousin already wants to kill me for kissing you. Because I like it too much. Because you make me feel wanted.I clear my throat. "Because you haven't brushed your teeth yet."I twist my upper body around and grab his toothbrush--the neon green one. I squeeze out a bead of toothpaste from my tube, get the brush wet, and hold it close to his mouth. With the tiniest hint of a smile, Bruno opens his mouth maybe half an inch and shifts his body even closer to mine. His eyes dart down to my lips and back to my eyes, down and up, down and up, leaning closer. I should dodge him but I don't--can't. All I can do is stare at his mouth, knowing full well I don't really care if he's brushed his teeth yet or not.Our noses nearly touch. He tilts his head to his right, I tilt mine to my right. We're lined up and ready for impact. His warm breath tickles my chin as he whispers, ""He turns his head, wraps his mouth around the toothbrush, taking it from me, and walks out of the bathroom. book-quoteDo you want me to get your back for you?"
Cringe. "No, I'm fine."
"Okay, then could you get mine? I don't really want the striped look you're going for. A little too trendy for me." He laughs, snapping the lid shut on his sunscreen bottle. He shakes it hard to force the lotion to the end, every muscle in his body tensing, releasing, tensing, releasing.
My jaw goes slack. He asked me a question. What was it? The cliché come to life? I hesitantly sit up and he's already on his knees on the end of my mat, back to me. "Oh. Okay, sure." I take the bottle from him and smear the lotion on the middle of his back as fast as I can. Why isn't it rubbing in? Too much, I took too much.
His body is solid under my fingertips. And tan. And solid. And sweaty. Overstimulation. Accelerated heart rate. Bad thoughts, Pippa. Stop. book-quoteI should probably head back for Luca's birthday dinner. They want me to lead the 'Happy Birthday' song to him in English for some reason.""Oh, right. Yeah, it's getting late." He lets go of my hand and reaches for his T-shirt.I watch his abs disappear, then pull my tank top over my head. "I'm sure you could come if you want."He frowns. "Won't Bruno be there?""It's his brother, he'd better be.""Uh, I'll pass."I grab his shirt near the hem and tug him toward me. "Even though I'll be there?" I bat my eyelashes intentionally fast."Tempting." He leans in for a kiss, letting it linger. "But I can't crash a birthday party for a kid I've never met. And I don't feel much like getting into a fight with a ripped-up Italian tonight. You go ahead, have fun. I'll see you in the morning, right? Before I leave?""That," I say, pecking his lips again, "is a necessity. book-quote
