Page 22 of The Road to You

I smirk. “Scared? Tesoro , I grew up on these myths.” I gesture toward the rocky islets in the distance, their rugged beauty rising from the sea like something out of a mythology book. “Li Galli. According to legend, this is where the sirens lived, luring sailors to their doom.”

She presses a hand to her chest in mock horror. “Doom, you say? And yet, we willingly came here?”

“Reckless of us,” I agree.

She grins, stepping closer, her voice teasing. “So tell me, history geek, if you hear them, will you tie yourself to the mast like Odysseus? Or will you give in?”

I pretend to think it over, then lean in slightly, letting my lips hover near her ear. “You’re the only siren I’d listen to.”

Her breath hitches. I pull back just enough to see the way her lips part, the way her pulse flutters at the base of her throat. The temptation to kiss that skin is way too strong right now. She is the siren that captured me, and honestly, I don’t want to be rescued.

Matteo, clearly enjoying himself, claps his hands. “Well, if we’re all done flirting, let’s get you in the water before the sirens steal your soul.”

Lena clears her throat, scooping back. “Right. Swimming. Yes.”

I chuckle, peeling off my shirt as she turns toward the water. She sneaks a glance at me, her eyes lingering on my chest before she looks away too quickly, pretending not to notice.

Amused, I watch as she strips down to her swimsuit, black, simple, but somehow more alluring than anything overly elaborate.

She catches me staring this time and smirks. “Something wrong?”

I shake my head. “No, just debating if I should warn the sirens about you.”

She laughs, rolling her eyes before stepping onto the edge of the boat. With a graceful leap, she dives into the clear, turquoise water.

She surfaces with a gasp, pushing her hair back. “Oh my God, this feels amazing!”

I follow. The cool water is a sharp contrast to the heat still simmering between us. When I come up, she’s already floating on her back, eyes closed, her face turned toward the sun.

I swim toward her, the water lapping against my skin, until I’m close enough to touch, but I don’t.

“This is perfect,” she sighs.

I watch her, the way the sunlight kisses her skin, the way the gentle waves carry her. “Yeah,” I murmur. “It is.” She is perfect in every way, from her physical appearance to her smart brain, her kindness, and her sense of humor. I could watch her for the rest of my life.

She catches me staring, and her lips tilt up in a knowing smile. “Is that a confession, Moretti?”

“Maybe.” I shrug. I can’t deny my attraction to her, and I’m pretty sure she already knows I like her.

She treads water again, tilting her head. “You never answered my question. If you hear the sirens, what would you do?”

I smirk. “I already told you. You’re the only siren I’d listen to.”

She watches me for a long moment, and I can see the shift in her eyes, the teasing edge softening, and something warmer settling in. Something dangerous. Because if I let myself sink into her soul, I won’t resurface.

She reaches out suddenly, skimming the water between us with her fingers, sending ripples that touch my skin. It’s barely anything, just a graze, but it feels like more. Like an invitation. And I want to take it. I want her hands tracing a scorching path down my skin.

I swim closer, the distance shrinking until there’s nothing but the sea and the sound of our breath. She’s looking at my mouth now. I should pull away. I should say something light, make a joke, steer us back into safer waters, but I don’t.

Instead, I lift my hand, brushing a stray drop of water from her cheek with my thumb. Her skin is warm, soft, and when she exhales, her breath fans against my lips. My body tightens in response, ready to reach out and drag her into the right place, between my arms.

I can’t tell if I move first or if she does, but suddenly, the space between us is nearly gone. Nearly is the key word here.

Because Matteo chooses that exact moment to yell from the boat, “You two planning on breathing anytime soon, or should I start CPR drills?”

The asshole has every intention of ruining this moment; if he wasn’t a friend, I would have flipped him off.

He’s getting revenge for the time I ruined his chance with my sister, telling her he just dumped his girlfriend.

He’s a friend, but I know how he jumps from one woman to another without a second thought, and I’m the kind of asshole brother that doesn’t want that kind of guy for his sister.

Perhaps not my best move, but I don’t regret doing it.

Lena jerks back with a laugh, cheeks flushed. “We’re fine!” she calls, glancing at me with sparkling eyes and a bit of lust lingering in her gaze.

I exhale, dragging a hand through my hair, chuckling. “He’s got great timing.” That asshole was watching and waiting for this exact moment.

She grins. “Yeah. Fantastic.”

Almost as if he knew exactly what he was doing.

We swim for another moment, letting the tension settle before she nudges me playfully. “Race you back to the boat?”

I smirk. “You sure you want to lose that badly?”

She gasps, mock-offended. “Oh, it’s on , Moretti.”

And with effortless ease, the moment shifts again, back to laughter, teasing, back to whatever this is between us.

Lena flops onto the cushioned bench at the back of the boat.

Her hair is still damp from the swim, and her skin is glowing under the midday sun.

I sit across from her, leaning against the side of the boat, stretching my legs out.

Matteo has already set up a small spread for us: platters of fresh fruit, caprese sandwiches, and a bowl of lemony seafood salad.

A bottle of chilled white wine sweats beside it, the condensation rolling down the glass.

“You didn’t tell me this was a luxury cruise,” Lena teases, reaching for a strawberry. She bites into it and her lips stain red. I watch as she licks them, my body lighting up in response.

I shrug, watching her too closely. “What can I say? I have connections.”

She smirks, chewing thoughtfully. “And by connections, you mean Matteo?”

“Exactly.” I grin.

Matteo chuckles from his spot near the helm, where he’s pretending not to eavesdrop. “Don’t worry, bella . Moretti only calls me when he wants to impress a woman.”

I throw a friendly shut-up glance at him.

Lena raises a brow, turning to me. “Oh? Should I be flattered or suspicious?”

Her teasing tone hides a bit of curiosity. I wonder if she wants to know how many women I’ve brought here.

I pick up my wine glass, holding her gaze as I take a slow sip. “A little of both.”

She raises an eyebrow, taking in my comment. She doesn’t prod further, and I crave being alone with her to see where this teasing will go.

She laughs, shaking her head as she reaches for a sandwich. “God, I’m starving. Swimming is exhausting.”

I grab one, too, taking a bite. The bread is still warm, the mozzarella soft, the basil fresh. This tastes like home, like summer, like something simple and perfect.

Lena sighs in satisfaction, closing her eyes. “Why does everything taste better in Italy?”

“Because it actually does.”

She hums in agreement, swinging one leg over the other, and her foot brushes against my shin.

It’s nothing, an accident, but I feel it anyway.

Like every small touch from her that sinks into my skin, leaving something behind.

The image of her sprawled over that bench, completely naked, while I savor every inch of her skin, makes a surprising appearance in my head.

If I keep going down this path, I’ll need to swim to the hotel to soothe the ache in my groin.

“So,” I say, resting my elbow on the back of the bench, “what’s the plan when summer ends?” Something I’ve been dreading asking for days now, but can’t ignore anymore.

I don’t expect her face to fall, just for a second, like she hadn’t considered it. She places her sandwich back on the plate, wiping her fingers on a napkin. “I guess I’ll go back.”

“To Los Angeles?”

“Yeah.” She pauses, twisting a ring around her finger. “I mean, that’s where my life is. My home, my career…”

I watch her carefully. “But?”

She exhales, glancing out at the open sea, as if the horizon holds the answer. “I don’t know. I haven’t really made plans. No auditions lined up yet. No projects in the works.”

I lean forward, resting my forearms on my knees. “Is that normal? The waiting?”

She nods. “Oh, yeah. There’s always waiting. Always uncertainty.” She twists her lips in a wry smile. “Some actors fill the gaps with small projects, commercials, voiceovers… Some just hold their breath and hope something comes along.”

“And you?”

She hesitates, then shrugs. “I guess I’m somewhere in between. It’s weird. I should be panicking by now. You know, like Hollywood forgot about me while I’m here enjoying my life. But for some reason, I’m not.”

I watch the way her fingers trace the condensation on her wine glass. “Because of this summer?”

She nods, looking almost guilty. “Yeah. It’s like…

everything outside of here doesn’t feel real.

I haven’t had to think about press, auditions, industry bullshit…

I’ve just been living .” She gestures to the boat, the water, and the coastline beyond us.

“And now that I’m thinking about it, I don’t want it to end. ”

Her confession surprises me, and something heavy settles in my chest. I shouldn’t let that happen. I shouldn’t be thinking about what it would be like if she didn’t leave. That’s insane. We’ve known each other for barely two months.

But the idea of her getting on a plane and going back to Los Angeles, back to a world where I don’t fit, where I’d be nothing more than a summer fling she remembers fondly, makes my stomach twist. And the worst part is that I have no right to feel this way.

I clear my throat, pushing the thought away. “Then don’t go.”

Her head snaps up. “What?”

I force a smirk. “Stay in Italy. Start a new career. Maybe Matteo needs a deckhand.”

Matteo barks out a laugh. “She’d bring in more business than you ever did, Moretti.”

Lena snickers. “Oh, I’d love to see that. Me, working on a boat, pretending I know anything about tying knots or…what do you even call the parts of a boat?”

I grin. “The bow, the stern…”

She waves a hand. “Yeah, yeah, all that. The point is, I’d be terrible at it.”

“But you’d be terrible in Positano, which is better than being miserable in Los Angeles.”

She laughs, shaking her head. “Tempting.” She sips her wine with a thoughtful gaze. “But that’s not real life.”

“Maybe it doesn’t have to be.” I don’t know why I’m pushing this idea, perhaps because I don’t want to feel alone in wanting this summer to last forever.

She looks at me then, really looks at me, like she’s trying to figure out if I mean it. And the truth is, I don’t know. I just know that being here with her is the first time in a long time that I haven’t felt like I’m waiting for something to go wrong.

The boat rocks gently, and the waves lap against the hull. The scent of salt, citrus, and sun-warmed skin fills the air between us.

Lena exhales, leaning her head back against the seat. “It’s nice to pretend, though. That this could last forever.”

I stare at her, at the way the sunlight catches in her hair, turning it gold at the edges. I want to tell her that maybe it doesn’t have to be pretend. That maybe what we have, whatever it is, doesn’t have to end when summer does.

But I don’t. Because that would be stupid.

Instead, I pick up a piece of watermelon and hold it out to her. “Here. Before you start getting all too existential on me.”

She grins, biting into it, juice dripping onto her chin. I reach out instinctively, swiping it away with my thumb before I can stop myself. She freezes. I should move my hand. I should pull away, but I don’t.

Her breath hitches, her lips part slightly. Something thick and electric settles between us.

And just as quickly, she clears her throat, laughing lightly. “Well. That was very Titanic of you.”

I smirk, leaning back. “Would you like me to sketch you next?”

She snorts, tossing a grape at me. “Behave, Moretti.”

I catch the grape easily, popping it into my mouth. “No promises.”

She laughs, shaking her head, shifting the moment back to something easy, something light. But the weight in my chest remains because summer will end. And when it does, I don’t know if I’ll be ready for that.