“What happens if you have to go back to Italy?”
“I’d go back to Milano, find a job in a factory—assembly line. At least I’d get to wear a helmet,” I scoffed.
“But with your talent?”
“The connections Jerry has, the established brand, the shops, the money, it’s not something I can do from there. I could maybe find a job as a salesman in a music shop. There aren’t too many Luigis and Jerrys around.”
There was a moment’s silence where we just looked at each other.
The column of her neck was smooth and taut, and if she was anyone else other than this rock of a woman, I’d be tempted to run my fingers and tongue on her skin until she melted into the touch and closed those deep ocean eyes of hers.
June averted her gaze first. She looked at her phone, scrolling through her lists probably.
“What else does your list say?” I asked amusedly.
“You already have my family tree memorized, and I have yours.” June continued focusing on her phone. “Childhood pets?”
“No room for pets in the public housing blocks of San Siro.”
She raised her gaze from the phone and looked at me.
“What about you?” I asked.
“Same. With the apartment my mother could afford.” She then broke eye contact and focused on her phone again. “I guess that, for daily habits, we already talked a bit about mine.”
“Zero fat, zero sugar, dairy-free, gluten-free, taste-free, high fiber, vegan.” I smirked.
Her gaze left her phone and was directed at me, unfazed. “Not vegan. I sometimes use manuka honey. We sell a sustainable-sourced brand in the shop.”
I had no idea what those words meant, but I quickly memorized them. “What else?” I couldn’t un-smirk now. Maybe she wasn’t capable of melting, but her frostiness was entertaining.
“My food, clothes, and the products I use are all natural, mostly vegan, usually handmade, sometimes recycled, secondhand—things like that. How about you?” She was reading from invisible slides again.
“Everything you said, just the opposite.”
A sudden laughter, the second today, left her throat, shattering her severity. I had a feeling it was a burst of desperation more than anything. June seemed almost embarrassed, as if she had just burped in front of me. Her eyes roamed until they landed on the guitar case I left on the floor next to the sofa.
“That’s your current project?”
“This one’s always with me. For projects, I brought a few others. They’re in that room downstairs. One of them is an expensive instrument, so I hope the locks work.”
“They should. I’ve never had trouble before.” The tip of June’s tongue darted out to wet her lips. “One other thing you need to know about my habits. I have to get at least seven hours of sleep, preferably eight, so I go to bed early and wake up early—”
“D’you think it’ll really be a week?” It just came out. It could have been worse; it could have come out as it formed in my head—how long will I have to live with you?
“Hopefully. A week should be more than enough for us to align and learn what we need to learn about each other. Anyway, before you cut me off, I was going to say that, if you’re used to, I don’t know, playing the guitar, or PlayStation, or whatever it is men your age do at night, please hold it off while you’re here. I—”
My outbreak of laughter cut her off mid-sentence.
“What?” she asked defensively.
“How old do you think I am?”
“I know you’re thirty.”
“Right. And to the best of your knowledge, men my age pass the night playing video games?”
She shrugged and pursed her lips in aI don’t know and I couldn’t care lessbut that now-familiar pink glow rose from her alabaster neck.
