And he whisks me through the restaurant, out the door and further down the street.
‘How’d you get here?’ I ask, breathless.
‘I’ve been busy,’ he says, still running.
We take a left and head to a side street, where he stops in front of a bright-red Vespa. He grabs a helmet and toys with the handle, climbing on before looking back at my shocked face.
‘Where did this come from?’ I ask, creeping closer to inspect the scooter in more detail.
He smiles proudly. ‘I was trying to figure out how I could get you back. I needed quick transport and lots of ease... and then I thought, “What would Lizzie do?”’
I gasp. ‘You didn’t!’
His smile grows wider at my shock. He nods his head and winks as he hands me a helmet.
‘Made sure it was red and everything. In this moment, I am your Paolo. Without the lies and deception, and terrible singing, of course. But, whatever, hold on tight, Lizzie.’
I secure my helmet and hike up the skirt of my dress as I nervously climb aboard. It’s shakier than I expected. I wrap both my arms around him tightly and relish in the comfort the comfort of his support.
‘Have you ridden one of these before?’ I ask.
‘Yeah, I rode here!’ he says breezily.
‘Before today.’
‘Who needs experience?’ he asks.
Then he stamps down on the pedal and we start to whizz down the road.
Turns out that without the buzzy soundtrack and the movie storyboarding, riding on the back of a moped is quite terrifying. It’s not safe or secure, and it’s exceptionally loud and you can’t make conversation over the rushed slap of the wind. But it’s quick and it’s convenient. We make it back into Rome in just under forty-five minutes. Noah briefly pulls over and parks to check his sports watch for an update on the time.
‘Okay, you’ve got ten minutes. Where’s your date again?’ he asks.
‘By the Colosseum,’ I say.
We climb back on again and are off in a flash, zipping through the streets of Rome at lightning speed. We pull up across from the restaurant only four minutes late, and I climb off and shake my curls out of the helmet.
‘How are they looking? Are they flat?’ I ask Noah desperately.
He squints back at me and tilts his head. ‘Here,’ he says. He reaches over and runs his hands through my hair, to give it a good fluff. I flinch as I feel his fingers tug through a curl, taking me back to the last time they tugged at my hair like that in that dark, sweaty train cabin in the middle of the night. I scurry from the thought, begging the image to leave my head, but the second our eyes meet I realise that he’s right there with me. I shudder, the movement shocking us both out of our heads and back to the early evening chill. His eyes dart from mine, anxiously searching for anything else to cling to and eventually settling on my goosebump-ridden arms.
‘I told you to bring a jacket,’ he tuts.
I shrug away in defence, using it as the perfect moment to pull us apart. ‘It wasboilingthis morning!’
‘But the nights here get cold, we already knew that.’ He shakes his head disappointedly before shrugging off his khaki bomber and holding it out towards me. I hover my hand over it, contemplating whether to reject it out of politeness, but then another gust of wind hits and I snatch it clean from his hands. It’s definitely oversized, but in a way I hope is chic. Honestly, with the warmth it provides I couldn’t care either way.
‘Thank you.’ I beam back at him.
‘It looks good on you.’ He steps back towards his scooter. ‘You should go, though. I’m pretty sure your date’s waiting for you.’
I follow his subtle nod to the other side of the street and spot Nigel standing there, staring at us, so I quickly scurry across the road. He opens his arms wide, scooping me into a hug the second I reach him. It’s a bear of a hug, long and tense and squeezy, feeling more like suffocation than softness. But I do my best to lean into it; it’s been so long since we last hugged. I’m just not used to it.
We make our way to the building’s lobby, trailing all the way through and back outside to the bar. The courtyard is stunning – beautifully open-plan and buzzing with guests in smart-casual dress. I’m already satisfied, but then we’re led up to our seats and I understand the packed capacity. Across from us is the perfect view of the Colosseum, stood loud and proud in front of our eyes.
‘This is amazing,’ I say in awe, settling down in my seat.
He smiles bashfully. ‘Yeah, this place is reservation-only. I booked it two weeks ago, hoping I’d have someone to take.’
