Enemies Abroad Page 12

  Now more than ever, I’m regretting my decision to be a team player. I could use a good distraction from the dark cloud looming over my head.

  After breakfast, I go up to the balcony on the second floor and watch the groups starting to take shape. Noah and Lorenzo gather ten rowdy kids who are already kicking a soccer ball back and forth to each other, talking smack, and promising a good game. I can’t help but inspect every inch of Noah, looking for battle wounds. He seems better now than he did in the dining hall, almost back to normal. He’s changed clothes and tamed his hair. One of the kids goads him into showing off and he does this impressive little move where he takes the ball back behind him with his foot, tosses it into the air, and then catches it in front with his other foot.

  I stay in my seat up on the balcony as they leave. The courtyard empties and a few minutes later, Gabriella and Ashley gather their small group of six and lead them off to shop at the market.

  I’m alone here now with three kids. Two boys and a girl, all from Trinity. Oh joy. The boys are playing video games in one of their rooms and the girl is sitting out in the courtyard, reading. When I knock on the boys’ door, they open it and stare out at me like they have no idea who I am or what I’m doing there.

  I do an annoying wave I immediately regret. “Hi, I’m Audrey, erm…Ms. Cohen, one of the chaperones from Lindale. I just wanted to let you all know I’m here if you need anything.”

  More like, LISTEN UP, I’m still here, so don’t try any funny business.

  They grunt then shut the door in my face.

  Right.

  Out in the courtyard, I wave at the girl, and she looks at me like I’m yesterday’s trash. What is with these Trinity kids?!

  “What are you reading?” I ask her.

  She lazily holds up her book. Foucault’s Pendulum by Umberto Eco. In Italian! When I was her age, I was reading a buffet of books from Sarah Dessen.

  My eyebrows shoot up. “Wow, is that required reading for Trinity?”

  “No.”

  Her tone couldn’t be clearer: Go away, you plebe.

  With my duties completed for the morning, I have nothing left to do. I’ll check on the kids again in a little bit, but for now, I rinse off in the shower and dress, trying to do things that might make me feel normal. I take extra time when I dry my hair, smoothing it out so it feels like spun silk. I apply a little makeup and moisturize my sunburned skin. I try to tidy a few things in my room, but everything is already put away, so it doesn’t take me long. I pick up Where the Red Fern Grows, read the same paragraph four times, and then give up. I check my email and see nothing new except promotional emails from The Gap and Match.com (Want to finish creating your profile? You’re missing out on eligible singles in your area!), and I suddenly can’t stop the tears that well up in my eyes.

  I can’t put my finger on exactly what’s wrong. This anxious feeling in my stomach, the way I can’t catch a full breath.

  I call my mom to talk, knowing she’ll let me cry it out and then give me the same sage advice she always does: “You know what will make you feel better? A walk. Go get some fresh air and stir up some endorphins!” But she doesn’t answer and I realize belatedly that it’s still the middle of the night back home. My held-back tears start to fall. I feel ridiculous crying. Over what? Being away from home? My fight with Noah?

  Ridiculous.

  Noah isn’t crying. Noah is doing fancy footwork on a soccer pitch, showing off for a bunch of freshly minted teenagers who idolize him. He’s forgotten I exist.

  I’ve never been all that good at wallowing. I can only stand in front of my window crying dramatically like I’m the main character in a music video for so long before the tap runs dry. There, that was efficient. I’ve had my cry and now I’m good as new. A Barbie right out of the box. Not one who’s had her hair chopped off and her arm popped out of socket by some pesky kid brother.

  One big calming breath feels heavenly, so I do another.

  I wash my face with cold water, reapply my makeup, and then check on the Trinity kids again. None of them have moved. Once I’m done, I give myself a proper tour of St. Cecilia’s. The place might as well still be a museum. It’s astounding that they can keep works of art intact in a place filled with children. I find and study twelve statues and eighteen paintings before the group from the farmer’s market returns with their hauls.

  I ooh and ahh at everything they unpack out in the courtyard. There are fresh strawberries and baked Pane Toscano that we pass around and share. The bread is warm and flaky and the strawberries are so flavorful and juicy I wish I had a whole bushel of them to myself. A few of the students picked up sweet little bouquets of flowers for their rooms: dahlias, amaranthus, lisianthus, and garden roses all grown on nearby farms. Ashley got a pair of leather sandals that an artisan fit for her right there on the spot. Millie picked up a tiny landscape painting of Rome, and I compliment her on her find.

  Everyone’s packing up their things to head into the school when Gabriella tugs me aside and tells me she could sense something has been a little off with me since the bar last night.

  “I know you probably don’t want to get into it, but I figured…here. It’s just a little something.” She holds out hand cream in a small foil tube covered in delicate floral designs. “The vendor told me it’s rose and gardenia scented. His family makes it in small batches.”

  The gesture is so sweet I can’t help but give her a hug.

  “That was really nice of you. Thank you.”

  She rubs my back. “You’re all right, then? No worse for wear after last night? It was strange when you and Noah left. I wasn’t sure what happened with you two.”

  My throat threatens to tighten with emotion all over again, but I force a smile and shake my head. “Oh, it’s nothing. He and I are always at odds.”

  She nods, studying me. “You two seem close…for coworkers I mean.” She laughs a little. “I mean, Ashley is one of my best friends, and I don’t even think she and I are as in sync as you and Noah.”

  I look away, hating that tears burn in my eyes again. I thought I was done with all of this. I have to be done.

  Sensing that I’m uncomfortable, she quickly changes the subject. “By the way, I hope you meant what you said last night about Lorenzo, because I’m not trying to step on anyone’s toes here…and it’s not like I usually just hop from one guy to the next, but it was pretty clear that things weren’t going anywhere with Noah.”

  She must see my confusion. I was there when they returned from their date. I heard how enthusiastic she was about it all.

  “To be frank, I was sort of enamored with Noah at first.” She shrugs. “But something was just off the whole night we went out. Like he had a chip on his shoulder or maybe he just didn’t want to be there. He was pleasant enough, but he had us order as soon as we arrived at the restaurant and he asked for the check when I was still eating. I mean, sure, he paid, but can I finish my glass of wine in peace? Sheesh.”

  I don’t really know what to say.

  “Anyway, not to make you feel weird, but Lorenzo sort of had the same feeling about you…that you weren’t that into him. That doesn’t shock you, does it? Because tell me if you like him and I’ll totally back off—”

  “No! Please go for it. He seems like a great guy…maybe I’m just not in a good place or something? Anyway, I’m happy it clicked with you two.”

  She smiles, obviously relieved that we had this conversation.

  Lorenzo comes to find me later, in the afternoon. He knocks on my door, and for a brief moment I think it could be Noah on the other side. When it’s Lorenzo, I’m relieved. Ever the gentleman, he asks me how I’m doing and if everything is okay after last night. I promise him I’m fine.

  He wrings out his hands. “Good. You’d tell me otherwise, right? Last night, you didn’t leave because of me, did you? I know I was talking to Gabriella a lot, but…”

  I rush to correct him. “No. No. It definitely had nothing
to do with you.”

  He sighs. “Good. I would never want you to think I was like that. A player or whatever.”

  I realize that the more Lorenzo talks and apologizes, the worse I feel. On some level, I appreciated his company the last few days. I wanted to enjoy my time with him out exploring the city. I wanted to use him as a distraction and maybe convince myself that a fling with him was just the thing I needed, but truthfully, I worry my motives were much more selfish than that. The moment Noah mentioned ground rules that first day we arrived, Lorenzo became a pawn, and for that, I feel horrible.

  “I think, let’s just be friends, you and me, okay? Gabriella is really great though. I know I said it at the bar, but I really mean it—if you’re both interested in each other, don’t let me stand in the way.”

  He smiles. “Yeah. Maybe. She’s nice.”

  “And pretty,” I say, teasing him.

  I don’t see Noah until dinner. I’m in the dining hall with Ashley, Gabriella, and Lorenzo. We picked a long table near the windows and we only sit down a moment before Noah walks in. I look up, see him, my stomach clenches, and I quickly avert my eyes, refocusing my attention down onto my food.

  Please go away. Please go away. Please go away.

  “Noah!” Lorenzo shouts. “Come eat with us!”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Lorenzo clearly didn’t read the room before delivering his invitation. The tension between Noah and me is palpable. If I stuck my tongue out, the air would taste bitter.

  There’s no time for me to freak out though. I need to take stock of the situation, prepare, and execute. I have very few options. I can’t just get up and leave. I have a full plate of food in front of me I haven’t touched yet. I hang on to the small chance that Noah might decline Lorenzo’s invitation, but that hope goes up in flames as soon as Noah finishes loading up his tray and heads our way. He plunks his food down beside Ashley on the opposite side of the table from me, and I take a small victory in that at least.

  We’re as far apart as we can be, which is par for the course for us.

  Everyone greets him cheerfully, except me. I make sure my mouth is stuffed with salad.

  In fact, I go right in for another bite before I’ve even fully swallowed the first.

  I can’t be asked to speak if I’m constantly eating. So what if I choke a little and need someone to perform the Heimlich? I have a few spare ribs.

  Everyone starts to recap their day. Ashley and Gabriella go on about the farmer’s market and then ask the guys about soccer.

  “The kids could barely keep up with Noah.” Lorenzo laughs.

  “Are you that good?” Ashley asks, curious.

  I stab, stab, stab my lettuce, only stopping when I realize I’ve drawn a few curious stares. I let up a little, then when I can’t withstand it another second longer, I peer up at Noah from beneath my lashes.

  He shakes his head, skirting around Ashley’s question. “I’ve just had a lot of practice.”

  “He’s being modest,” Lorenzo insists. “The kids were really in awe. We’ll have to convince you to play again next week if you’re up for it.”

  Noah’s freshly showered. His hair is slightly damp and doing my favorite thing where it curls up at the ends. It’s not long enough to form a ringlet, but it wants to so bad. He picked up more sun at soccer. His skin is getting tanner by the day. He was made for Italian summers. He should be on a yacht with an heiress. Meanwhile, I’m not allowed to go back out into the sun without a hat and SPF 100 coverage, minimum.

  Worried he’ll catch me staring, I force myself to look back down at my food. The conversation has shifted and my silence must be getting a little awkward at this point because Lorenzo tries to draw me in directly.

  “Audrey, I meant to thank you earlier for hanging back at the school. Did you find anything to distract yourself with?”

  My mind goes blank because of course I can’t tell him the truth of what I was doing.

  “Uhh…”

  Don’t say you cried!

  For the love of GOD, think of something else!

  I remember the art I looked at just as Lorenzo’s attention is suddenly diverted by something across the room. “Oh! They just put out the dessert. It’s that bread pudding all the kids snatched up the other day.”

  He’s already pushing up and out of his chair. He’s forgotten I exist.

  Gabriella shoots to her feet too. “Oh, let’s go. Quick, Ashley.”

  She tugs her arm and just like that, the three of them vanish in a poof, leaving me alone at the table with Noah.

  It’s dramatically quiet. It’s like someone dialed the volume of the room down to zero but Noah and I have been mic’d up. His fork scrapes against his plate. My glass of water clinks against the table. I swear if I tried, I could hear my stomach churning my food.

  I’m so hyperaware of everything it’s like life’s been put in slow motion. What is taking them so long? Get your stupid pudding and come back here.

  “So are we going to pretend we don’t know each other?” Noah suddenly asks.

  I can read Noah’s moods like an old weather-beaten farmer can detect rain. Looks like it’s coming on, boys. His tone (lighthearted), his delivery (pithy, eager)—he’s not wanting to continue our argument; he’s trying to draw me into banter. It’s his version of an apology and likely the only one either of us will deliver.

  I look up and study him like I haven’t seen his face in years.

  “Of course I know you.” I snap like I’m trying to draw his name out of my brain’s Rolodex. “Nigel something, right?”

  I can see the relief in the subtle sag of his shoulders, the sly smile as he forks another bite of his food into his mouth.

  “It felt weird not talking to you today,” I admit. Then, because that almost sounds too desperate, I tack on, “You missed a lot. Lorenzo and Gabriella are dating now, I think. They seemed to really hit it off last night.”

  They’re still over at the dessert table. It looks like they’re inspecting every single bowl of pudding as if trying to find the best ones. Are they really that interested in dessert, or are they trying to give us time to talk?

  “Strange. Is that his thing? Does he just jump from teacher to teacher the whole summer? Seems inappropriate if you ask me.”

  He sounds offended.

  “Are you upset that he went after Gabriella?”

  I just assumed he wouldn’t mind—it’s why I gave them my blessing last night and again today—but maybe I was wrong.

  He shakes his head vehemently. “No. I thought you might be annoyed he was going after her now.”

  I rear back. “Me?”

  Oh right. Last he knew, I was into Lorenzo.

  I frown down at my food. “Turns out he’s not my type after all. What a shock.”

  “He wasn’t good enough.”

  I snort. “Yeah, right. Accomplished handsome Italian man with a great personality—total dud, I see exactly what you mean.”

  He pffts. “He was only ever average, and you’re…”

  My heart swells and I work up the courage to look over at him, but his attention is down on his plate.

  “Hilarious,” I supply.

  He rolls his eyes.

  “One of a kind.”

  At this he pretends to gag himself with his fork.

  “A total dream girl.”

  He looks up and spears me with his warm gaze. “Audrey,” he deadpans.

  “Noah,” I deadpan back.

  We hold eye contact for one, two, three.

  “Should we talk about last night?” I blurt.

  His entire demeanor changes in an instant. I want to take an eraser to my question. “What’s there to talk about? You shouted at me in a bar.”

  He says it like it’s no big thing, but my hackles go up instantly. “I didn’t shout.”

  He shrugs. “You came on to me. I kissed you and then you got mad at me for it. I mean, come on, Audrey.”

  I’m leanin
g toward him now, heated. “I wasn’t upset with you because you kissed me. I was upset with you because of your motives for kissing me!”

  I realize belatedly that our voices are starting to carry.

  A table of Trinity students is staring at us with wide eyes. Just great.

  “See that’s what I can’t wrap my head around,” he continues, leaning closer. “You think I kissed you—”

  “Keep your voice down!”

  The others are walking back now. They’ll be at the table any second.

  “You think I kissed you because I wanted to—what? Hurt you?” he whisper-hisses. “You know that’s bullshit.”

  “We got you guys bread pudding!” Ashley singsongs, waving spare dessert in the air before plopping a bowl down in front of Noah and another in front of me. “And you don’t have to thank us, but seriously, this stuff will change your life. Did bread pudding originate in Italy?”

  “England, I think,” Gabriella says as she sits back down.

  Ashley laughs. “Oh duh, that sounds right. So, what did we miss?”

  I push up to my feet. “Nothing. Thanks for the dessert, but one of you can have mine. Stomach issues. I’m going to go lie down.”

  This time, I get the satisfaction of leaving Noah to deal with the mess.

  When I get back to my room, I immediately regret being hasty about the bread pudding. That was shortsighted. My dramatic exit was not worth the cost of that dessert, but it’s too late now. I can’t go back out there.

  I sit on the edge of my bed angry and confused as I replay every word Noah said to me at dinner.

  Then there’s a knock on my door.

  “Should we finish our fight?” Noah says, sounding almost cheeky.

  “No. Go away.”

  “Sorry, no can do. We need to go over the plans for tomorrow, so open up.”

  Right. Crap. Tomorrow is a big day: beach day. The chaperones need to be on the same page with planning.

  He tries the doorknob and I panic. “Can’t. I’m indisposed.”