I gently tap on the window, but there's no movement inside. "Vico?" I knock again.
Suddenly, his angular face appears at the window. He opens the door, and only then do I notice he's only wearing boxers. What a torso …
"Is something wrong?" he asks, unsuccessfully trying to tame his tousled hair. His shoulder muscles are prominent.
I quickly look away. I need to focus. "We were supposed to take photos."
"What?" Did he forget?
"Yesterday, we discussed starting early today," I add, feeling uncertain due to his confused expression.
He peers into the darkness behind me. "Now? Are you serious?"
"On the internet, they say—"
He raises his hand to stop me. "You want perfect photos, I get it," he says with a disparaging undertone on the wordperfect.
"That's why we need to leave now," I say even though doubts start creeping in. Is it right to claim him like this? Should I have explained more clearly what I meant bytomorrow morning? Or did I accidentally use the wrong Italian words?
Suddenly, he looks at me so intently that I feel a rush of heat. "Did Florian tell you that?" he asks.
"Um… no." Why does he want to know? Even if he did, it wouldn't matter. "I thought it was a lovely idea." In my imagination, it was, at least. Maybe I was wrong. "If it's too early for you, we can leave later. That's fine too." I try to sound nonchalant, but I'm not sure if I succeed.
"Alright then, work can wait," he says, pulling out a T-shirt and putting it on. "Do you want coffee?" he asks, turning away from me.
He even has a coffee maker in there? I discreetly peek around the corner. Indeed, I spot one of those old-fashioned stovetop espresso makers on a plate next to the mattress that serves as a bed. Right behind it, his laptop is open. So this is how he lives.
"Sure," I reply absentmindedly.
In my mind's eye, an image of us sitting on the floor, legs dangling outside with the door open, watching the sunset over the coast, flashes before me. I rest my head on his shoulder, smiling dreamily.
"Here." Suddenly, a coffee mug appears in front of my face, snapping me out of my inappropriate daydream.
Focus, Hanna, I sternly remind myself as I take the mug. I do everything in my power to keep my thoughts in the present moment as I head back to the car.
We leave the estate. "Where can we get the most beautiful shots? Val D'Orcia is said to be breathtaking," I say.
He puts his hand on his chin. "We won't make it there by sunrise. Just five minutes from here, there's a vineyard with hills directly bathed in the morning sun."
That sounds good too. I steer the car in the direction Vico indicates, and once we park at the foot of the hill, I reach for the camera.
"We can take the first shots over there." Vico points to an area where grapevines are neatly lined up against trellises.
I step out of the car, thinking I can already see the first rays of the sun on the horizon. "Among the plants? Is that allowed?"
"Sure, why not?" He grins mischievously and strolls ahead. "Come on, the sun won't wait."
With a few quick steps, I catch up to him. "Not that we'll get into trouble," I reply, though it's probably too late for that. Vico has already stepped onto the soft soil of the vineyard.
Shaking my head, I follow him between the grapevines. "Only Austrians are awake at this time."
"And Italians who are forced to by Austrians," I say, now also smiling. Back home, I would never dare to do this, and even though Vico is so laid-back, it feels like I'm doing something forbidden.
Nevertheless, I'm not afraid. On the contrary, the excitement that spreads in my stomach is beautifully thrilling.
So beautiful that I forget to watch where I'm stepping. The soft ground under my sneakers gives way. I stumble, but Vico catches me.
For a slightly too long moment, he holds me in his arms. We gaze at each other.
