It's crazy. And it's completely unfair to Florian.
"Finally, we'll be together every day again," he adds with a joyful expression.
The fact that he clearly has no idea about the turmoil inside me makes my stomach clench even more. "That's great," I reply hastily, forcing a smile on my face.
***
Twenty minutes later, I stand in front of Vico's VW bus, uncertain, shifting my weight from one foot to the other. The look he gave me yesterday before walking away without a word is clearer in my mind than the beauty of the estate surrounding me.
It would be better if I didn't knock on that door. We shouldn't spend any more time together. Yet here I am, staring at the glimmering silver handle of the sliding door in the sunlight.
I couldn't resist. A part of me needs answers. I must find out what exists between us. Perhaps, it's only me who feels it. Maybe it's just an ephemeral spark, ignited by the idyllic surroundings and the vacation ambience.
With a scraping sound, the door begins to move. Vico appears before me, his shoulder-length hair pulled back at the nape. "Hanna," he says, looking at me as if I were a ghost.
I raise my hand. "Hey… uh…" Great, now I'm at a loss for words.
He continues to slide open the door, steps out of the camper, and looks around. "Is he gone?" I can't discern anything from his tone.
I nod briefly, lowering my gaze. As if I didn't already have enough guilt toward Florian, now I also have feelings bubbling up for Vico. Because I realize that I am not an innocent in our strange situation. Again and again, I have taken a step toward him.
"Good," he responds tersely. "Let's go for a drive."
He's not angry.
If he had feelings for me, he should be, after seeing me with Florian yesterday, right? Perhaps I only imagined that there was a spark between us?
"What are we going to see?" I ask, feeling confused.
His smile makes my knees weak without reason. "I know of something that you'll surely enjoy."
I don't even consider asking what it is. I'm just relieved to be getting away from here. Strolling alone next to Vico while knowing that Florian is nearby feels strange. Even as he sits beside me in the car, and our forearms almost touch, my emotions ride a roller coaster.
Guilt. And longing.
Everything blends together, causing my heartbeat to remain unsteady throughout the entire ride. As usual, Vico doesn't reveal our destination, but unlike before, it doesn't bother me at all. I even feel excited because his surprises have never disappointed me.
Vico fiddles with the radio, and soon Umberto Tozzi's voice fills the speakers. I join in, and with each chorus, I notice the music soothing my inner unrest. It doesn't take long before I'm singing along wholeheartedly.
After an hour's drive, we arrive in a quaint village that exudes a sense of history. Vico grins at me expectantly. "Are you ready?"
I can't help but smile back because, in his presence, everything seems effortless and uncomplicated. Enjoying life with him comes naturally. And that's what I want. This feeling is too beautiful not to savor. "Absolutely."
We leave the car behind and stroll toward the heart of the village. "This is Pietrasanta, the artistic center of Tuscany," Vico explains along the way.
Two enormous sculptures shaped like faces emerge before us, skillfully arranged beside an ancient olive tree. Their rugged surfaces carry an impressive beauty within. Instantly, a matching melody resonates within me. I sway to the rhythm, letting my gaze roam freely. "Wow, they are magnificent."
"And there are many more," he says, smiling warmly as if he delights in my delight. Then he reaches for my hand, pulling me along.
We venture into an alleyway lined with studios and art workshops. I discover elegantly curved marble sculptures, metal creations seemingly entwined with trees, and graceful stone figures. With each new find, I feel happier. I even allow my imagination to run wild, combining different artworks in mymind and listening to the music they create within me. In my mind's eye, a new world takes shape. Everything feels possible.
With my hand firmly in his, I feel like I'm breathing in this village with its medieval core and majestic architecture. Inspiration fills me in a way I've never experienced before.
"It's wonderful. Thank you for bringing me here," I say, looking up at him, seeing his gentle expression.
His thumb strokes the palm of my hand. "I'm glad you like it."
It would be better if I withdrew my hand. Because despite everything, I know this isn't right. We shouldn't touch each other anymore until I gain clarity about my confusing feelings. So I gather my resolve and let go of his fingers.
