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S tart talking, Livia. I want to hear all about your little sightseeing trip.’

As soon as I walk into class on Monday afternoon, it’s glaringly obvious why Kenzi asked me and the others to come early.

‘He just took me to some places Nina showed him,’ I say lightly. ‘He’s actually a pretty good cicerone .’

Sofia frowns. ‘What’s that?’

‘Basically, a tour guide,’ I explain, feeling a tiny bit proud of myself for knowing this very Italian term. ‘But, you know, a fancy Roman one.’

More like a Roman you fancy, Liv . . .

Heat creeps up my neck as Inner Isla’s comment hits its mark.

Kenzi, Ren and Sofia exchange loaded glances. It’s clear they’re not going to let this go so easily.

‘He just took me to some places Nina showed him,’ I repeat, as if it was no big deal.

As if I haven’t been reliving every minute of it – wandering through Nina’s favourite spots, seeing Rome from a completely different angle.

It felt like some kind of fusion tourism, like Ren’s cooking – mixing the big, touristy sights with the hidden, local way of seeing them.

Familiar, but new. Even the framed poster of St Peter’s sends me right back to that keyhole, and how small and perfect it looked.

‘Wait, wait, wait.’ Sofia’s voice cuts through my thoughts. ‘Are you saying you’ve finally succumbed to Giulio’s charm?’

‘No! He’s just...I don’t know, easier to talk to than I expected.’

Ren pokes a finger into my ribs. ‘Easier to talk to? Or easier to look at?’

‘Vi prego , enough!’ I beg.

Sofia grins. ‘Just trying to understand if Giulio’s one of us now.’

‘I wouldn’t go that far,’ I say. ‘It’s more because.

..’ I take a deep breath and tell my friends everything they’ve missed: Nina trying to convince Giulio to spy on Ma, the mountain of debt we have a week to pay back, and how we might lose the bar just when I’m finally – finally – starting to feel like I belong.

The shock doesn’t leave their faces. Ugh! I’ve totally killed the mood.

‘What about you, Ren? How was the tour?’ I’m counting on his love of food to lighten the mood, but he doesn’t take the bait.

‘It was great. We took loads of photos. But, Livia, we should talk about your situation.’

I turn to Kenzi to ask about her weekend, but she stops me just as I take a breath.

‘I helped Mehdi with his citizenship paperwork. Now, back to you. What are you going to do about the bar?’

I rest my head in my hands. ‘It’s...complicated. The debts are worse than I thought. Giulio’s even thinking about selling his Vespa to help cover it. And Ma doesn’t know a thing.’

Sofia bites her lip. ‘But the bar’s been busier, no?’

‘ Sì ,’ I nod. ‘Giulio says it’s not enough to impress the bank, but...I don’t know.’

Kenzi’s eyes light up with an idea. ‘Then let’s make it enough. What if we open up the language swap to more people?’

‘Who would come? How do we get more people interested?’ I ask.

Sofia waves her phone. ‘I could mention it on my travel blog and social media feeds. My followers would love it, especially if they get free conversation practice.’

‘I could make snacks,’ Ren says. ‘Everyone loves free food, right?’

‘I suppose . . .’ I start, but Kenzi’s nodding.

‘We’re already doing it . . . we just need to go—’

‘Bigger!’ I finish, a stirring of hope warming my insides for the first time in days. ‘We could make it a regular thing...’

My heart races. This could actually work.