Page 16 of The Road to You

MICHELE

W e left the house in the Tuscan hills at midnight. Now that the paparazzi have caught wind of us, it’s only a matter of time before they track us down. The only option is to keep moving. Keep them guessing.

So as soon as we got back from that ill-fated grocery run, we packed our bags, had dinner, and called around for a hotel willing to take us in Florence. Not an easy feat in the middle of July, but somehow, we pulled it off.

Now, we stand outside the Galleria dell’Accademia, and I’m ready to work my charm to get us past the massive line.

I step up to the ticket counter, flashing my most practiced, devastating smile. “ Ciao! ”

The woman behind the counter lights up, her polite customer-service expression shifting into something warmer. “ Buongiorno .”

“We’d like to buy two tickets.” I switch to English deliberately, and as expected, the moment she registers Lena beside me, her eyes widen in recognition. Bingo.

“Of course,” she says, fumbling at her computer, suddenly a little nervous.

I lean in slightly, resting my forearms on the counter. “Any chance we could skip the line? We’re happy to pay extra.” I flash the full force of my signature playboy grin, the one I know works.

From the corner of my eye, I see Lena roll her eyes. She’s onto me. But she doesn’t seem annoyed, just amused.

The truth is, I don’t love using my fame to bypass normal inconveniences.

But standing in line for hours, surrounded by people who might recognize us, is a risk I can’t take.

For me, it’s an inconvenience. For Lena, it’s a headline.

And she’s been through enough of those because of that jerk of an ex.

I only made things worse when people recognized me and put me in the magazines with her.

The woman hesitates, shifting uncomfortably. “Do you have a reservation?” She already knows the answer, but she has to do her job.

“No,” I admit, then grin. “But we can make one right now…for five minutes from now.”

She giggles despite herself. “That’s not how it works, but you know what? If you sign an autograph for my dad, I can call someone to take you through a different entrance.”

I knew I could count on something like this.

Everyone in Italy knows about soccer players, or knows someone who knows about us.

It’s almost a given that I can use my face to open doors.

Which is why I never use it, unless it’s an emergency.

And considering how Lena is uncomfortable in crowded spaces, I say that this is an emergency.

Or maybe I just want to spend as much time with her as possible, without being mobbed by fans.

That’s also a good reason to do it. A selfish one, but I don’t linger too much on the guilt creeping into my stomach.

I barely resist the urge to pump my fist in victory. “Do you have a pen and paper?”

As she rummages around, Lena nudges my side. “You’re bad,” she mouths, her smile full of mischief.

I just smirk and shrug. She shakes her head, but she looks more amused than pissed about it. I sigh in relief.

After I sign the autograph and snap a quick selfie with her, on the promise that she won’t post it for at least a week, a man arrives to escort us through a side entrance.

Lena glances up at me as we walk. Her expression is teasing. “Do you always use your fame to get what you want?”

Her question is laced with more curiosity than annoyance.

“No,” I say, feigning offense. “I usually take the conventional route. But let’s be honest, most of the time, doors just open for me. What about you?”

Considering how famous she is, I have to believe there are places where she uses her fame to her advantage.

She tilts her head, considering. “Yes and no. If I go somewhere celebrities frequent, I get perks. But outside of those places, I’m just a regular person. No one’s handing me a priority pass at the gym or at the grocery store.”

“Never skipped the line at a club?” I ask because I did it a lot when I was younger.

She blushes slightly, and she is adorable. “Yeah. I did do that,” she confesses

I chuckle, but my attention lingers on her.

The more time I spend with her, the more I want to know about her life, her quirks, and her thoughts.

It’s unsettling. I don’t usually linger on the personal details.

And yet, with her, I do. I tend not to get too close to women I don’t date.

The whirlwind of people surrounding my life makes it impossible to know each one of them.

It sounds arrogant and lazy, but that’s the reality.

I have little time for relationships, and I can’t give everyone the attention they deserve, so I tend to surround myself with people that I know I want in my life longer than a night out.

But Lena is different. I shouldn’t indulge in the comfort of a relationship that leads to nowhere.

After this summer, we’ll go our separate ways.

But it feels like she’s slipping under my skin in a way no one else has.

This is not a summer fling, a relationship, but it feels like more than a friendship.

Hence, my desire to know even the smallest detail about her.

I have a feeling I’ll regret my life choices when summer ends and reality slaps its ugly hand across my face.

We round the block following the guy who is talking about the recent soccer games and the championship that ended months ago.

I tuned him out when he started dissecting the last game when my former team performed a miracle and won the championship.

Without me. Lena seems to sense my discomfort, even though the guard is talking to me in Italian and she can’t possibly understand, and she reaches for my hand, squeezing it slightly and giving me a small smile.

This is why I can’t ignore the pull between us, even though the most reasonable thing would be to not to get involved. She’s someone you can’t ignore.

We slip in through a service door, and the guy leaves us at the entryway to one of the exhibition’s rooms. I sigh in relief when he goes away.

“Are you okay? You seemed a bit upset by the guard,” she whispers to me softly, avoiding the people surrounding us, eavesdropping on our conversation.

I turn toward those beautiful blue irises that make me feel naked.

I smile and nod. “He was talking about my former team as if I were still part of it, and that was a tough rant to listen through,” I confess.

I don’t want to keep her out of my life anymore.

The sense of relief to talk about these things with someone that doesn’t pity me is both liberating and terrifying.

What will I do when she’s no longer here after this summer?

She frowns. “Don’t people know that you’re not part of the team anymore? I thought it was public knowledge.”

I shake my head. “Yes and no. There are speculations, but nothing official. My team is taking their time, so I’m still on the roster.

If I find another team, they can say that I wanted to change and not that they let me go because of the injury, which would mean facing public backlash about my forced departure. ”

She scoffs. “Do they have the same publicist as Preston? They sound a lot like a toxic ex.” She raises an eyebrow to underline her statement.

I can’t stop a laugh from bubbling up my throat. This is what I like most about her. She always seems to know how to make me feel better with a joke, without it sounding forced. She is genuinely a good person.

“I have to check, but at this point I think it’s possible.” I smile, putting a hand on the small of her back and guiding her toward the exhibit.

We wander through the gallery, admiring the artwork, the weight on my chest lightening every step we take and every smile she gifts me. But when we step into the sculpture hall, I’m surprised to see Lena light up like a kid on Christmas morning.

“I’ve always dreamed of seeing this in person,” she breathes, practically vibrating with excitement.

She is so thrilled that I can’t stop a smile from forming on my face. I probably look like a lovesick puppy looking at her like that, but who cares? She is irresistible like this.

I laugh. “What?”

She grabs my hand—actually grabs my hand and makes me shiver in pleasure—and drags me through the crowd, stopping in front of Michelangelo’s David.

“Isn’t it perfect?” she whispers, completely awestruck. The grip on my hand tightens, and I’m entirely aware of our closeness. Not that I’m complaining about it.

I force myself to drag my eyes away from her perfect face and toward the piece of art. I tilt my head, taking in the massive statue. It is impressive, more so than I expected. The detail is ridiculous, the veins on his hands so realistic it’s almost unsettling.

“I have to admit, it’s incredible,” I say, though my gaze keeps flicking back to her instead of the marble masterpiece. It doesn’t even compete with her beauty.

“And those abs?” she murmurs, her eyes shimmering with appreciation.

She is really into this dude, and I can’t stop teasing her. I snort. “I have abs like that too. They’re not marble, but they’re solid enough.”

She glances at me, her lips twitching. “I’ll give you that. Your physique is…quite the sight.”

A slow, satisfied grin spreads across my face. I’ve never cared much about my looks. My body is a tool, something I maintain for work. But hearing her say it like that? Yeah, I’ll take it. I know she’s checked me out plenty of times, but my ego is pleased that she is admitting it.

I smirk, letting my ego swell just a little more. “If the timing weren’t against me, I’d say I was the model for this statue.”

For a second, she just stares at me. Then, out of nowhere, she bursts into laughter, full, unrestrained giggles that shake her entire frame. Someone turns toward her to see what the fuss is about, and they smile, seeing her enjoying herself. I, on the other hand, am puzzled.

I blink, caught off guard. “What?”

She tries to compose herself, taking deep breaths, but the giggles keep escaping. She laughs out loud to the point of bending over and putting her hands on her knees.

Finally, she places a hand on my shoulder and, between laughs, says, “I just hope, for the sake of all the women you’ve been with, and ever will be, that you’re packing a little more…substance.”

She gestures toward my crotch, then flicks her gaze back to David’s.

It takes me a second. And then I follow her line of sight.

Ah.

Not the most flattering comparison, I admit that. That’s what I get for strutting like a peacock in front of a woman.

For a moment, I just stare at her. Then, I lose it. A deep, gut-wrenching laugh bursts out of me, shaking my entire body. It’s been so long since I’ve laughed like this, so long since I’ve felt this light and free.

And that’s the problem. Because I already know when she leaves, she’s going to take a piece of me with her. A piece no one else will ever be able to replace.