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We watch a few cars pass and then she says, “Would you have come?”
“No,” I lie. She doesn’t look convinced.
“Why were you in the hallway?”
I avoid her question and say, “We can’t. I think you know that.”
“But you wanted to?” she asks.
“We can’t,” I repeat.
She kicks a pebble on the ground, her eyes cast down. She nods a few times and then says, “Okay.”
There’s a pinch of mixed emotions inside me right now. Relieved that I won’t dive headlong into a catastrophic idea and disappointed because I want to be with her so badly.
She looks up to the sky and groans. “You’re going to think I’m nuts.”
“What?”
She groans louder. “I don’t want to drive it alone.”
She points to the Vespa. It takes me a moment to realize she’s changed the subject.
“Which means,” she continues. “Either I ride with you or with one of the Secret Service agents.”
I’m not disguising my surprise. “I thought that was the whole point of coming is that you wanted to drive.”
She looks around nervously. “It was, but now I have cold feet. Can we ride it together? There’s room for two.”
Honestly, I don’t want to ride it with her, but I also want her to be safe. I shrug. “Fine. Of course.”
She looks behind her and giggles, “Check out Rodriguez and O’Shay.”
I look back at her Secret Service agents. They look particularly annoyed standing beside brightly colored Vespas.
Juno calls back to them, “I guess you’re getting a Roman holiday too.”
O’Shay just flips her off, and she laughs loudly.
“Are you riding on the front or the back?” I ask. Neither of them is good for me, but I’ll let her decide. She studies the Vespa for a moment and then says, “I’ll ride on the back to start.”
I take a deep breath. “Okay, let’s do this.”
We both pull on our helmets. I sit on the scooter, and she climbs on beside me. When she slides her arms around my waist, my whole body feels like it’s on fire.
“Is this okay?” she says. Her thighs are pressed against mine. She’s wearing a dress, and it’s pushed far up her legs. I’m not even sure I’m going to be able to focus enough to drive.
No, it’s not okay. It’s really not okay.
“Yeah, it’s fine,” I say, my voice comes out strained. I hope she doesn’t notice. “Hold on tight.”
She tightens her grip and leans forward until her chest is touching my back. Oh, god. Someone help me.
We start off. After a few minutes, she loosens her grip on me and scoots back just a little. Her arms are still around my waist. We breeze through a village and out onto the countryside.
“It’s gorgeous,” she says in my ear.
I nod. It is. Everything about this is gorgeous, but I’m having a hard time focusing. All I can think about is how badly I want to kiss her again.
