Page 10 of Better Than Gelato (Ciao Bella #1)

I pick up my glass. It’s the size of a shot glass and filled with a thick liquid sprinkled with shaved chocolate bits. I take a sip. It’s thick and warm and dark, but not bitter with a touch of vanilla and maybe cinnamon. I can feel the sweet warmth all the way down my throat.

I put my glass down and Jake is watching me like I’m a movie.

“It’s okay,” I say. “I mean, it’s no Swiss Miss, but it’s fine.”

He shakes his head before I even finish talking.

“Nope. I don’t buy it. You are amazed right now. I know you are.”

I break into a smile. “I am amazed. This is incredibly good.” I take another sip and feel the heat and sweetness spread through my whole body.

“I knew it. I knew you would be.” His smile is so big and…genuine. Like it really makes him happy that I’m enjoying this hot cocoa.

It’s dark when he walks me to the bus stop and the streetlamps cast shadows on the deserted cobblestone street. The city lights are too bright to see stars, but a bright moon shines, full and content.

“You’re humming,” Jake says.

“Am I?” I ask.

He nods. “I know that song. That’s Moondance.”

He sings the opening line and then softly takes my hand and pulls me in for a slow dance.

I forget to breathe as his arm wraps around my lower back.

My heart is hammering, and I’m sure he can feel it.

I force myself to take a deep inhale and let it out slowly.

His scent, cold lake in a pine forest, makes me lean closer, until I can feel the heat of his skin through his shirt. My body relaxes into his.

His voice is sweet and low, and his breath grazes my neck as he sings.

Slow dancing in the middle of the street is not something I do back home.

But everything feels different here. Jake sings until the very last line and then hums the last notes.

When he lets me go, my body feels cold all the places it was touching his.

“Thanks for the dance,” he says softly.

“You’re welcome,” I say softly.

Behind him, the 27 tram pulls up to the curb.

“ Buonanotte, Juliet,” Jake says. He leans in and gives me the softest kisses on both cheeks, sending tingles down my skin like the ripples on the lake.

I climb onto the bus and look at him out the window. Oh man. I am in trouble .

* * *

“Mags!” I practically yell into the phone. “It’s me! Your bestie!” I’m snuggled into my bed on Tuesday afternoon bursting with excitement to talk to Maggie.

“Juls?” There are some muffled shuffling sounds, then she comes back on the line louder.

“It’s me! What are you doing?” I ask.

“Well, it’s 1:30 a.m. So I was, you know, sleeping.” Oh yep, that is definitely her middle-of-the-night voice.

“Oh geez. I’m so sorry. On a scale of one to ten, how much do you need sleep right now?”

“Zero,” she says immediately. “I need zero sleep. Tell me how you’re doing.”

“I went on the most amazing date yesterday, and I need to tell you all about it,” I say.

“Yes! Fill me in. How is Paolo?”

“Oh. Um, it wasn’t a date with Paolo.” I climb out of bed, suddenly feeling too amped to lay there.

“Not with Paolo. Okay, fill me in a lot.”

“Paolo and I are just friends, remember?” I start hanging the pile of clean clothes that have been sitting on my bed for a day. “This date was with Jake.” Just saying his name makes me smile.

“Jake. Wait. Isn’t he the American one?”

“Yes, he is but?—”

“You turned down the sexy Italian, and you’re dating the American?” The incredulity in her voice comes across all the way from California.

“I’m not dating him,” I clarify. “This was our first date. And he is American, but also, he’s kind of great.”

“So is McDonald’s. But you don’t eat there when you’re in Rome.”

I make a growling noise I think she can’t hear, but she does because she says, “Alright, I’ll reserve judgment until I hear the whole story.”

I tell her everything starting with his text on Sunday night and ending with his soft cheek kisses on Monday evening.

“Well, I’m really excited for you,” she says. But it sounds more dutiful than genuine.

“Thanks,” I say. “I mean, I’m not like planning on dating him seriously or making this a big thing…”

“Of course you won’t date him seriously. It’s you.” Maggie laughs. “I just think it's funny that you move to an exotic country filled with gorgeous men and then find the only American within a hundred miles to date.”

Well, it sounds real stupid when you put it like that. I make an angry noise.

“You’re making your mad beaver sound again,” Maggie says.

“I can hear it. Look, I’m sorry. I’m being lame.

It’s the middle of the night, I don’t even have my head on straight.

You meet a great guy, you have fun together, that’s great news.

Maybe this one will even make it past the three-month mark. ”

“Maybe,” I say. But just thinking about it makes me anxious.

Maggie tells me about all our friends back in Cali, and I crawl back into bed and let waves of homesickness wash over me. “I better let you get some sleep,” I finally say.

“Yeah, I do have a chem exam today,” she says.

“Good luck.”

“And hey, I’m sorry about before. Do whatever you want with your last hurrah. I just want you to be happy.”

“Thanks,” I say. “Love you for life.”

“Love you for life,” she repeats.

I shower to wash off the homesickness and think about what Maggie said.

She’s right, dating Jake is ridiculous. Sure, he’s sweet and smart and smells amazing, but I’m not going to seriously date him.

Yesterday was a fluke, a combination of a romantic setting and delicious food.

This is my hurrah year, I’m not going to waste it on Jake.

I’ll make it clear tomorrow night at Calypso that I’m only interested in being friends.