Matteo lifted his head, brows raising, perceptive eyes meeting mine. “You okay, Moretti?”
“I’m good,” I said quickly, my heart rate picking up. It was like he could sense something was off even while immersed in Gianna Land. I pushed out a smile, trying to brush it off. I could feel his gaze on me as I pulled out a book and leaned back on the chaise lounge.
Alexander and Matteo were poolside with Gianna who was showing them her pool tricks which consisted of spinning in her floaties. I smiled to myself watching them adore Gianna.
Lucia pushed up her sunglasses, peering over at me. “You alright?” she asked casually, flipping a page in her book.
“Mm,” I sipped. “Jet lag.”
Lucia snorted. “We’ve been in Italy for over a day.”
“Emotional jet lag.”
She side-eyed me. “Right.”
A deep laugh grabbed my attention, shifting my eyes under my oversized sunglasses to Matteo. Like there was some sort of gravitational pull there. His hair was a mess, getting curly with its length, chest bare, sunglasses perched on his nose. He had Gia in one arm and a juice box in the other, doing a dramatic reenactment of her flying around. She was giggling so hard she nearly fell over.
My heart did that annoying little skip thing again, and I already knew Lucia had caught me staring.
“So,” Lucia said slowly, “What’s going on with you and my brother?”
I nearly choked on my drink. But I really shouldn’t have been surprised at my friend’s bluntness.
“What?” I replied, trying not to sound guilty immediately.
She shrugged. “You’ve been weird. He’s been weird. I’m not blind.”
“I’m not weird.”
“Youjustsaid you had emotional jet lag.”
“Which is a real thing,” I argued. “Look it up.”
Lucia just lifted her brow and waited.
“I know what you probably think…” I said finally, careful not to look over at Matteo. “But nothing real is going on. Your brother is—” I paused, searching.
“Infuriating?” she offered helpfully.
“Yes. Exactly.”
Lucia took a long sip of her drink, watching me over the rim. “You two bicker like an old married couple.”
“Gross,” I muttered. “Don’t you start romanticizing. We’re just fundamentally incompatible.”
“Sure.”
“And he’s your brother.”
“And?”
“And I’m not looking for anything.”
Lucia turned her attention back to her book, but there was a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth that made me want to dunk her in the pool.
“He makes you laugh,” she said, not looking up.
“That’s just his whole thing. He jokes. He flirts. It’s harmless.”
