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"Hm." He clicked his tongue regretfully. "A shame."
"Another time," I said, looking away and immediately wishing I could call the words back.
I could see his smile out of the corner of my eye. "Another time," he agreed.
If the rest of the afternoon wasn't exactly easy—how could it be, after the exchange we'd just had?—it was at least companionable. Luca seemed to have taken my demurral to heart, and avoided any additional overtures. Instead, he told me about his childhood in Lombardy. His family had lived next to a sheep farm, he said, and on special occasions his mother would cook osso buco.
"I felt sad for the lamb," he said, brushing a layer of clear acrylic over a labeled pottery fragment, "but only until I could smell the marrow."
My stomach rumbled.
I clamped one hand over my abdomen. "Sorry," I said, blushing. "We forgot about lunch."
Luca laughed. "So we did." He swirled his brush in a cup of water and replaced the lid on the acrylic gloss. "I think this is enough work for the day, no?"
I glanced at my watch. It had been so dark with rain clouds all day that I didn't even know what time it was. "Six!" I exclaimed. "No wonder I'm hungry."
Luca's eyebrows lifted slightly. He didn't reply. If he had figured out that I was lying about dinner with Vanessa, he didn't give any indication. Instead, he glanced toward my umbrella, then down at my boots, then at the absolute maelstrom outside. "Surely you didn't walk?"
"Um." I grimaced. "I did, actually."
"Dinner another time," he said, getting up from his chair, "but I will drive you back."
"Yeah," I said. "Yeah, actually. That's probably a good idea."
The umbrella, it turned out, didn't do a whole lot of good; it flipped inside-out almost immediately. Rain stung my face, and the wind nearly whipped my bag out of my arms as we hurtled toward Luca's little orange car.
"Here," Luca yelled, yanking the passenger door open and fairly tossing me inside. He maneuvered the umbrella into an approximation of its folded configuration and crammed it into the tiny backseat, then hurried around to the driver's side and slid into his seat.
"Oh my God," I said, pushing my drenched hair out of my eyes. "This is insane."
Luca was looking up at the roiling sky. "Indeed," he said. He started the car.
At that moment, my phone beeped. I reached into my soaked bag and pulled it out. It was still dry, fortunately.
It was Vanessa. Wherever you are, her message said, stay put. Power's out at the dorm.
I hastily typed back. I'm with Luca.
Her response was immediate. Well then definitely stay put!
I locked the screen and glanced at Luca. He was watching me.
"So," I said, "who's in the mood for lamb?"
We didn't even bother with the mangled umbrella when we reached his apartment. The rain was coming down in such a torrent that I could barely see a foot in front of my face, and we laughed as we raced for the front door, splashing through puddles in the process. We tumbled through the door together, water dripping from our clothes to pool on the tile floor in the entryway.
Luca reached across me to flick a light switch, and a soft, warm glow illuminated the room.
"Good, we have power," he said.
I wasn't sure what I'd expected from Luca's apartment, but the place was charming. It was small, but not cramped, with dark wood trim and floor-to-ceiling bookshelves that ran the perimeter of the living room. The shelves were crammed to overflowing, and I found myself curious about their contents. I knew next to nothing about Luca. Would I find shelves of archaeology texts? Murder mysteries? Perhaps biographies or a collection of fantasy novels.
To the right was the kitchen, with walls painted deep terra-cotta and a counter tiled in bright blue and gold, and beyond that a narrow hallway led off to the rest of the apartment.
"A shower, perhaps?" Luca asked.
My gaze flew to his.
