Draw Me In (16 page)

“
Did you just say LOL instead of
actually laughing?
”

“
Well, you said curses instead of
actually cursing. I wanted to see if it had the same effect. Obviously, it didn
’
t.
”

Goodness,
was he ever cute. That much I could make out, even in the dark that coated the
apartment. During our kiss and following conversation the sun slid down in the
sky, casting lines across the walls like diagonally printed wallpaper. But now
everything was shadow. A few street lamps outside flickered on, their orange
glow like that of a jack-o-lantern burning through the tall windows. Mr. Wong
’
s neon sign flooded light through the
glass, giving our kitchen an eerie hue. Everything was dark, mysterious. Which
only added to the mystery transforming in my head.

Why
on earth was Leo here? And why did he kiss me?

Since
I watched a lot of
Murder She Wrote
reruns with my mom as a kid, I decided to try my hand at cracking the case.

“
You didn
’
t come over here tonight just to deliver
my boarding pass, did you?
”
I gave up on the posing and just stood in front of him, face to gorgeous face.
His dark brows, this thick head of hair, his piercing eyes. He was exquisite.
And I
’
d
made out with him. Score for me, big time.

“
You
’
re right. I didn
’
t.
”

Aha!
Clue number one.
“
You
like me.
”

There
was a playfulness in the smirk that stretched across his lips.
“
Wasn
’
t that obvious from all the kissing?
”

“
Sorta. I mean, maybe.
”

“
Should I make it more obvious?
”

Um.
Obviously.
I didn
’
t say that, but instead quit with the
joking and let my true thoughts slip past, not at all feeling insecure, but
honestly needing to ask him the question.
“
So,
where do we go from here?
”

I
knew from the moment I laid eyes on Leo in front of the David that he
’
d interested me. His voice. His
touch. His demeanor. And now his kiss. It was all perfection and he intrigued
me to no end, an infinity of captivation.

And
something about me intrigued him as well, I guessed. It overwhelmed me to think
that maybe, somehow, we mutually felt the same way about one another. I
recognized that for the rare gem it was, because most times lives didn
’
t sync. Feelings didn
’
t match up. Relationships never
materialized. Timing was a funny, and often cruel, thing. It passed over
potential happiness and left lives to chance, a fleeting vapor of what could
have beens and what ifs.

I
thought Leo was a hot piece of meat (among other things) and he at least
thought I was make out worthy. This could totally work. We were in tune. But
what next?

“
Where do we go, Leo?
”

Engulfing
my hands in his palms, he pulled me into his chest, his head resting on the
crown of my hair. When he spoke, his jaw moved against me, and I could feel
each word as he uttered it.
“
How
about we start with the airport?
”

CHAPTER TWELVE

“
I think Pixie
’
s gonna give her problems again.
”

Ian
and Leo were two people behind me in the crazy long line at customs. An Italian
officer on the other side of the glass window eyed me up and down, his beady
eyes like lasers scanning over my face. He flicked open my passport once more
to my picture and then did the whole scan thing again.

“
It
’
s me,
”
I assured, sweeping my hair back
into a ponytail to prove the resemblance.
“
See?
”

“
But it doesn
’
t look like you.
”

“
I had short hair.
”
That was an understatement. Saying I
had peach fuzz would have even been a gross misrepresentation. Honestly, Sinead
O
’
Conner and I could have swapped
passports and no one would have been the wiser.

After
a few more moments while the officer appeared to vacillate back and forth
between letting me into his country or packing me in a crate and shipping me
back to the good ol
’
U.S. of A., he slammed the stamp loudly onto the fourth page of my book and
waved me through.
“
Enjoy
your time in Italy.
”

“
Thank you.
”

While
I slipped my passport back into my luggage, both Ian and Leo flew past the
officers without question and caught up to me.

“
So Ian says something about a fairy
giving you trouble?
”
Man he was hot. Even after nine hours of travel, he looked fresh and
rejuvenated. How did he do that?
“
I
have no idea what that means, but that wouldn
’
t be the first time I
’
ve felt that way with you.
”

With
my hand still wrapped around my passport, I pulled it out of my bag and waved
it Leo
’
s
direction.
“
The
hair.
”

“
Oh wow. Or you mean lack thereof.
”
I tried to read his expression to
see what he truly thought of it, but I got nothing. This guy was probably a
champion at poker, because that face wasn
’
t
giving anything away.
“
Did
you lose a bet or something?
”

“
Nah,
”
I shrugged, taking the passport back
from him. I couldn
’
t
remember what carousel they said to pick our luggage up at, but Ian looked like
he knew where he was going, so Leo and I followed behind and continued our
conversation.
“
I
did it for charity. One of my students was trying to raise money a couple years
back for a cancer walk and she got $100 for each person she recruited to shave
their head, $200 if it was a girl. It was a no brainer. Plus, I saved on
haircuts for like a year. Total win.
”

Never
mind, Leo would suck at poker because the look on his face now was as
transparent as glass. Intrigue. Awe. Even a touch of sorrow. It was all there,
scribbled in the lines of his creased brow, the crow
’
s feet feathering out from his eyes.

In
a beat, he grabbed me by the face, two palms cupping my jaw, and pressed his
mouth deeply onto mine. Airport patrons swirled passed us, bumping into our
sides as we stood planted in place, connected at the lips. I wanted to shout,
“
I
’
m being kissed in an airport!
”
because wasn
’
t this sort of thing every girl
’
s dream? I mean, I don
’
t know that I can honestly name any
romantic comedy that doesn
’
t
involve at least one airport make out scene.

Slowly,
Leo pulled back. Light danced in his eyes as he said,
“
I know I don
’
t know you very well yet, Julie, but
I want you to know that each time I find out something new about you, it
’
s like unwrapping a present. Thank
you for that gift you just gave me.
”

Well,
if that wasn
’
t
the most adorable thing anyone had ever said to me.
“
The gift of seeing me practically
bald? That
’
s
not really a great gift. I
’
d
ask for a refund.
”

“
The gift of learning more about your
character.
”

“
I
have
been told I
’
m
quite a character.
”

Leaning
in for a hug, Leo wrapped his arms around my waist, his elbows resting on my
hipbones.
“
That
you are.
”

Ian
was long gone, and by the time we met up with him in baggage claim, all of our
luggage had arrived and we were ready to make our drive to the Tuscan
countryside. Leo
’
s
family provided their own personal driver, which shouldn
’
t have surprised me, but it did
because the more that I got to know Leo, the more down to earth he appeared.
Things like Italian villas, chauffeurs, and multi-million dollars wine labels
just didn
’
t
seem to fit anymore.

He
was slowly becoming more normal, though I wondered if I had the definition of
that word wrong all along. He was right when he
’
d said in the dressing room that it
was something measured on a person-by-person basis. Yeah, there were social
norms that we all seemed to operate under, but even those were somewhat fluid
and morphed as society changed and shifted in its views and ideologies.

Normal
was subjective.

However,
I
’
m fairly certain it wasn
’
t considered normal for the leggy and
busty blonde that greeted Leo at the grandiose entrance to the Carducci Tuscan
Villa to kiss him the way she did. It was that customary cheek kiss I knew to
be very common in this part of the world. But the thing about a cheek kiss is
that it usually involved at least one cheek.

And
certainly not a little tongue.

And
no ass-grabbing. There was definitely no ass-grabbing involved.

“
Ian!
”
I hissed, stepping out of the black
SUV onto the gravel driveway that led to the sprawling vineyard home. The Villa
was expansive, blocks of carved stone and pillars that rose out of the hillside
like they were part of the original creation story rather than some
afterthought an architect later added to the landscape. I
’
m pretty sure on the eighth day, God
made the Carducci household.
“
Ian,
did you
see
that?
”

Our
chauffeur swiveled around us and to the back of the vehicle to gather our
things as Ian slid out of the backseat, his jeans squeaking against the leather
friction of the interior.

“
The girl?
”

“
Yeah, the girl. Miss July over there
just shoved her tongue down Leo
’
s
throat.
”

Shading
his brow with a flat hand held to his forehead, Ian squinted toward the
direction of the home entryway where Leo and Blondie were quietly exchanging
pleasantries, and, I was pretty sure, saliva.
“
I
’
m sure she was just being nice.
”

“
With a French kiss?
”

“
It
’
s called a European kiss, I think.
”
Ian
’
s eyes slivered even more and he
craned his neck like a giraffe to get a better view. I half-contemplated asking
him to get out his zoom lens so we could better spy what was happening, but I
gave that a second thought. And let
’
s
face it, you can
’
t
half-contemplate something. You either contemplate it or you don
’
t. And the fact that I was
contemplating whether or not I was contemplating pretty much meant that I was
becoming obsessed with the notion of getting a better view. Stalker-status
officially reached.

“
Stop staring!
”
I whispered, even though it
’
s exactly what I was doing, and in
reality it wasn
’
t
like either one of them were even glancing our direction.
“
And I know how Europeans kiss. That
was not a friendly,
‘
Glad
you had a safe flight,
’
type of kiss. That was a
‘
Let
me see if I can tell what you had for lunch,
’
sort of tongue action.
”

“
Well, let
’
s see if she does it with me.
”
Ian began walking toward the Villa,
then stopped short, flicking his head my direction. His blond hair grazed the
shoulders of his beaten leather jacket, the one that his grandfather had left
him just last year.
“
Better
yet, let
’
s
see if she does it with you. Then we
’
ll
really
know what kind of greeting it
was meant to be.
”

I
was almost positive I wasn
’
t
a lesbian. But the nerves that shot through me at the notion of planting my
lips on that beautiful woman
’
s
made me a little disoriented. I really hoped it wasn
’
t butterflies, because that would
’
ve been all kinds of confusing. A
sexual identity crisis really wasn
’
t
something I had time for today. Probably not tomorrow either.

“
I
’
m not going to kiss her.
”

“
You don
’
t have to. Just wait to see how she
greets you. If it
’
s
similar, we
’
ll
know it was nothing.
”

He
had a point. And I had one to prove, so I confidently marched up those carved
stone steps to the front porch, adrenaline pumping through me full force.
Whoever the girl was, she appeared just as glad to meet me as she did to see
Leo, and she bent her slender frame toward me to deposit an obligatory kiss onto
my cheek.

The
problem was, I completely froze and forgot what it was that I was supposed to
do or how I was supposed to respond to a strange girl
’
s mouth careening toward me like
that. Should I move my head left, should I angle right? Should I stay in one
place and let her take the lead? Oh my God, lips! Was this like a dance where
the guy takes control, and in this instance, who was the guy since we were both
women? She was maybe just a bit more feminine than me, so was I supposed to
initiate?
Why was this so confusing?

By
the time I remembered the real reason I was here and what Ian suggested I do, I
snapped my head up with newfound determination.

Which
was the wrong thing because my lips landed full on hers.

And
to my relief, I was not a lesbian.

She
shook her head quickly, probably a little stunned by the dumb American that
obviously knew nothing about European culture. (Which wasn
’
t true
—
I knew quite a lot, I just didn
’
t know how to conduct myself in
circumstances where someone else was kissing my man. Sue me.) Quickly shaking
off her surprise, she slipped out her delicate hand and offered it to me
instead of her mouth.
“
Buongiorno.
”

Well
that completely backfired. Not only did I not have any more information than I
did two minutes ago, I
’
d
now kissed my very first girl, and unlike Katie Perry, I didn
’
t really like it.

“
Good morning.
”

Leo
had disappeared somewhere into the depths of the house during my grand
entrance, and I could hear several male voices speaking, their accents thick
and authentic like I was suddenly swept onto the set of the Godfather or the
Sopranos.