Page 104 of Enzo

“Oooh … Professor Sexy!” I exclaim. “You look like the kind of professor a student would have a crush on.”

I’m in such good spirits today. This hasn’t been the torture chamber I was afraid it would be. And we’ve been out. That’s a big deal.

But Enzo is quiet. He stares at me for the longest time and doesn’t say a word. I hope I haven’t offended him. He likes his clothes and he dresses so stylishly, it now makes me wonder if he actually finds this painful.

“Maybe you teach comparative pottery,” I suggest.

He frowns. “That doesn’t sound like something a professor would teach.”

I make a face. “Not with that attitude you won’t.”

But I can’t wait to get dressed, and to go out, even if it’s just around the block.

***

ENZO

This is silly.

This is not how I should be spending my time, but a part of me is secretly thrilled. I’ve decided that we’re going to the bookshop Molly hovered around the other day, but I’m not going to tell her yet.

I’m also aware that we can’t be out for too long, because as funny as these outfits are, I’m worried that they’ll attract attention rather than not. I can’t believe I’m taking such a risk. I’m a very risk-averse person, but there’s something about Molly that has rubbed off on me.

She soon appears before me, pushing the glasses onto her nose, bending slightly at the waist and pointing a cane at me.

“Where did you get that?”

“It was buried inside the clothes. It’s a collapsible cane. I didn't see it at first, but this outfit isn’t complete without it.”

I stare at her. It's jarring. She has the skin of a twenty-something, as well as the figure, but her outfit doesn't match the personality I know.

Once again, we retreat to our rooms and get changed. When we come out, we stop and stare at one another.

Molly looks me up and down. I do the same to her.

“Well,” she says. “I definitely wouldn’t look twice at you.”

“I’m not sure whether to be insulted or relieved.”

“Relieved. Definitely relieved.”

I glance at her. “You don’t look like you either.”

“Perfect.” She grins. “Then we’re ready.”

We get outside the building, and I look around to hail a taxi. I told the bodyguard our plans, and we decided that he’ll follow discreetly.

“How many bodyguard do you have?” Molly asks.

“Sometimes two. It depends.”

“Why didn't your bodyguard stop me from filming you at the ball?”

“Because they look out for actual threats. Someone with a weapon. You holding up a phone didn’t exactly qualify.”

She appears to consider this. That’s when I notice that she’s struggling to maintain her elderly posture.

“You don’t need to walk like you’re in pain,” I whisper.