Kiss Me Goodnight in Rome (The Senior Semester Series Book 2) by Gina Azzi Page A

talk, the way her hair tumbles past her shoulders, how her hands gesture with her words when she’s excited, the tiny gold flecks in her chocolate eyes, and I realize that she’s mesmerizing. This normal, ordinary, American girl is so much more than Giulietta or Caterina or the dozen other girls that swarm around my social circle. And she doesn’t even know it. I’m so absorbed by her presence that I miss what she’s saying.
    “Lorenzo?” she repeats.
    I shuffle forward from my resting spot on the stove. “Sorry?”
    “I think I need to get going.” She smiles. “It’s pretty late. But thank you for tonight. This…” she gestures around the kitchen “…was really cool.”
    I nod. “Anytime. Let me walk you home.”
    “Oh, you don’t have to do that.”
    “I want to.” Jesus, I really do want to walk her home. I smile at her, taking her hand in mine. “Come on, I’ll clean up the rest in the morning. I have the opening shift.”
    She laughs, lacing her fingers through mine. Her skin is soft and delicate, exactly how I’d imagine a ballerina’s skin to feel. I wonder how her skin would feel if I ran my hands up the length of her body? Smooth, warm, soft. Would she shiver in anticipation? Would a moan fall from her lips?
    “How are your classes going?” I ask instead, mainly to distract myself from my own thoughts.
    “Pretty good. My favorite is definitely the Dante, Boccaccio, and Petrarch course. The professor is really animated and makes classes interesting. We have a partner project…” she looks up at me rolling her eyes “…but otherwise, I’m enjoying the readings. And the project isn’t terrible, even though my partner is in Scotland this weekend.”
    I laugh. “What? You don’t like group projects? Those are the best; more collaboration, less actual work.”
    She squeezes my hand. “I hate group projects. I hate relying on other people to do something that my name is going on. I’d rather just do it all myself and know that whatever grade I get, I earned. Whether it’s good or bad.”
    “I’m sure you only get good grades though.” I squeeze back.
    She blushes and shrugs.
    “I would have loved to be in your group when I was in school.”
    She laughs again. “I probably would have hated being partnered with you.”
    “Yeah. You would have.”
    “I’m up this way.” She tugs my hand, leading me up a narrow side street. Within two minutes, we come to a stop before a big green door. “This is me.”
    I look up at the building. It’s old but charming and beautiful in its own way. Classically Roman. It’s the kind of apartment American exchange students dream of living in, and I’m glad she’s having this experience, having this time to explore something new, do something outside her strict routine and overbearing schedule.
    When I look back at Mia, she’s studying me. Her eyes are dark, serious, and she inhales shakily as I tuck an errant piece of hair behind her left ear. I shuffle toward her and she smiles shyly, but I can tell she’s nervous. She’s probably wondering what I’m going to do.
    I know girls. I’ve been with more than I can count. Plus, I live with Claudia. Claudia and her friends discuss every minute detail of an encounter with a guy they like: Is it a date? Will he kiss me? Do I want him to? Will I be disappointed if he doesn’t? What does that mean?
    It’s ridiculous and annoying ninety-nine percent of the time, but in this moment I’m a bit grateful toward my sister and her posse because I can tell all of these thoughts are racing through Mia’s mind as her chocolate eyes widen and she licks her bottom lip.
    I tug her toward me and place my hand along the soft curve of her cheek. I stare right into her eyes and smile lazily before dipping my head and capturing her sweet lips with my own. I kiss her softly, once, twice, and then I lace my fingers through her hair and pull her closer. She opens up to me and responds, her tongue meeting mine. And