“Those branches don’t look like they’ll support our weight,” she whispers.
“They will,” I promise, and leap. When I land on one of the branches, it shudders but otherwise holds. An orange breaks away, hitting the pavement below with a squishy thud.
I balance deftly, then use another bough as a handhold while I reposition to make room for her. When I’m in place, I beckon to her.
She hesitates. “Massimo…”
I hear voices coming from the grounds behind her and I gesture urgently.
She glances over her shoulder, then finally jumps.
When she lands she almost loses her balance, but I quickly steady her.
We make our way down, and soon we’re racing from her estate. We can’t suppress the spontaneous laughter that erupts from our lips. I see her hair streaming out behind her.
Wild and free.
In another few moments we’re walking hand-in-hand across the moonlit beach. We have it all to ourselves.
“We should do this more often,” she says.
“Sneak out at night?” I ask.
“Yeah,” she replies. “And get in trouble, generally.”
I grin. “Rest assured, when you’re with me, trouble won’t be far away.”
She giggles, then gazes at the gentle waves of the Tyrrhenian Sea washing up against the shore beside us.
“I wish this moment could last forever,” she says.
“Maybe it will,” I tell her.
Her thumb caresses my fingers as we walk. “You sound so sure of yourself.”
“I’m always sure of myself.” I turn toward her, glance at her lips, then peer into her eyes. I can still see a hint of green in them, even under the moonlight.
She shyly looks away, then reaches underneath her collar. She retrieves a necklace I haven’t seen before, and slides it over my head.
“What’s this?” I touch the curio, and lift the pendant that dangles from it, but can’t quite discern what it depicts beneath the moonlight.
“My parents gave it to me,” she says. “It was my great grandmother’s. I want you to have it.”
“Why?” I can feel an engraving on the surface. I hold it up to my eyes and squint. I think I can see the outlines of a cherub.
“My great grandfather gave it to my great grandmother before he went away for the war,” she says. “He told her as long as she wore that, he would always be with her.”
I stare at Angela for a moment, stunned that she would give me such an heirloom, especially one of such obvious sentimental value.
“I can’t take this,” I finally say and start to remove it.
But Angela closes her hands around mine. “Please, I want you to have it.”
I hesitate, then lower my arm. Her hands are still around mine, feeling so electric. I stare at the silhouette of her lips in the moonlight. I haven’t kissed her yet, and to be honest I’m surprised it’s taken me this long. I guess I’ve always felt she was so delicate, a porcelain doll that’d break at the slightest touch. But I can’t restrain myself anymore.
I lean in and plant my lips gently on hers. She seems unsure of herself at first, or nervous, because her lips are frozen in place. But then her mouth fills with emotion and she surprises me by how eagerly she returns my touch. No, not just eagerly, but passionately, as if she’s wanted this forever.
She kisses me harder and harder, so I stop holding back—soon we’re literally mashing our lips against one another, pressing roughly, almost desperately, as if this one kiss is the only thing keeping us alive, or as if it’s the first and last kiss we’ll ever share.
