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“We’ll need these,” I tell him, my ears already ringing from all the noise.
“I’ve brushed up on my random Formula One facts,” he tells me.
That brings a smile to my face. “I love how dedicated you are to this,” I say, raising his hand to my lips to kiss it. “Go on. I’m all ears.”
“Okay, this is pure speculation, but experts claim a Formula One car can bedriven upside down because of its aerodynamic force.”
I look up at him, scrunching up my face. “Like you see in superhero movies when they drive their cars on the roof of a tunnel? I don’t believe that.”
Ade laughs. “I’m not saying they’re right. It’s what they claim and given each car costs a few million to make, I doubt anybody would test it and sacrifice these machines.”
“Yeah, I sure wouldn’t. Here is a fact that isn’t speculation. Did you know a Formula One driver loses on average four kilos each race because they’re exposed to so much heat?”
Slinging his arm around my shoulder, he playfully pulls me closer. “That’s the reason I don’t drive these cars. I don’t like the heat.”
I stop and untangle myself from him. Taking a step back, I eye him up and down. “You wouldn’t fit into these cars to begin with.”
“There is that,” he replies, gathering me into his arms and kissing me soundly.
Despite our jovial banter, the unease from earlier lingers as we walk on. I can’t shake the eerie sense of being watched.
I look over my shoulder and scan the crowd. Is it my imagination or are there a lot of Italians here today?
It doesn’t mean anything, I reassure myself. Plenty of Italians are interested in this sport.
Then I spot a face that seems familiar. I stop walking and do a double take.
Ade stops too, looking at me with an arched eyebrow.
“That guy over there… I’ve seen him before,” I say as my stomach churns uncomfortably.
The guy doesn’t move nor does he look our way; his attention is solely focused on the racetrack.
Am I making this all up in my head?
Ade turns to where I point. “Where do you think you’ve seen him before? De Marco’s?”
I nod. “I can’t be sure, though. Maybe he just looks similar.”
“De Marco hasn’t left Sicily, or we would have been told.” He folds me back into his arms, smoothing back my hair. “Relax, lucida. I’ve got you. You know I won’t let anything happen to you. Ever.”
He holds me for a long time; I never want to leave the comfort of his embrace.
When he pulls back, he studies my face. “Good,” he declares. “Your face isn’t as tense anymore, but I’ve got something else that might help.” He gives me a cheeky grin.
“Umm, I’m not sure here is the right place.”
He plasters on an innocent expression. “Oh? Why not? Is sex in public not your thing? With all this noise, nobody would hear you scream my name.”
I elbow him in the ribs. “I don’t fancy being arrested for indecent exposure.”
“Well, then you should take your dirty mind out of the gutter. Sex wasn’t what I was talking about.”
“Oh really?” I challenge him.
“Really.” A tinge of disappointment runs through me. Hmm, what’s with that? Would I actually enjoy the thrill of public sex? No, that’s not me. Or is it? I’m hardly the person I was a few months ago.
I’m distracted from my thoughts when Ade digs out a little brown paper bag from his shorts and gives it to me. I unwrap it carefully and a delightful-looking, large praline greets me. My mouth waters, and I can’t resist. I take a bite and let the sugary goodness hit my taste buds, closing my eyes in pleasure.
