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I twitched, remembering that all I had on were a T-shirt and a pair of panties with the image of a doughnut on the back and the wordsI’m so sweet, which anyone behind me would have had a panoramic view of. I turned, grabbed the hem of my shirt, and tugged it down, preparing myself to answer. But when I saw the face in front of me, I lost my voice.

OMG, it was him. Him! Giulio!

What were the chances of something like this? One in a hundred thousand? One in a million? I had no idea. But there he was.

“Stai bene?” he asked, looking disconcerted.

I bumbled something that didn’t make any sense as I examined every inch of him. He must have been around forty, like my mother, but he looked much younger. He was incredibly handsome, with dark, curly hair and eyes so dark I could hardly see the pupils. His skin was toasted by the sun and his enchanting smile showed off his bright teeth. And there it was, over his right eyebrow—a mole exactly like the one I had.

Trying to concentrate, I managed to get out the words, “What did you say?”

“Oh, you’re Spanish?” he said with a heavy accent and, when I nodded, continued. “I was asking if you were all right. Because you were about to disappear into that jasmine…”

I laughed as I felt the blood rush into my cheeks. I lifted up my phone, felt my T-shirt rise with it, then hurriedly jerked it back down. “I dropped this.”

“Sure… We haven’t met before, have we?”

“No, I just got here last night.”

“You’re not Iria and Blas’s granddaughter, are you? I thought you weren’t coming for a few more weeks.”

“No! I’m staying with Lucas.”

His expression turned knowing, as if we’d been up to something naughty, and he said, “Ah, with Lucas! Va bene.”

A woman inside the house called his name, and he shouted back, “Sto arrivando, Mamma,” without looking away from me. “My mom. She has to have her coffee in the morning. You coming in?”

“Yeah. I should probably get dressed.”

“I doubt you’ll bother anyone here,” he said with a chuckle.

I tried not to stare at him as we went inside, telling myself torelax and not succeeding in the least. I was a ball of tension and anticipation.

“Your Spanish is really good,” I told him.

“In this place, you need to speak it. I get… How do you say it? I can get on?”

“I think you mean you can get by.”

“Exactly,” he said. “I can get by. My mom’s Spanish, anyway. She came to Italy with her family when she was a kid.”

In the vestibule, a woman opened the door on the left and said, “Giulio, the coffee maker’s not working.” Then, examining me with curiosity, she added, “Who’s she?”

“Mamma, this is…”

I introduced myself. “My name’s Maya.”

“She’s staying with Lucas,” he explained.

She smiled and responded, “Hello, Maya, I’m Catalina. You’re renting the room from Lucas?”

“No, I, uh, I just…”

She grinned and said to Giulio, “L’estate è per i giovani amanti,” in a near whisper.

He laughed, and when I inquired what she’d said, he responded, “The summer is for young lovers.”

“Lovers!” I almost shouted. “No! We’re… That’s not what we are. We’re…” I couldn’t get the words out. This woman was old enough to be my grandmother—maybe shewasmy grandmother—and there I was, half-naked in her vestibule.