Page 57 of I'll Look for You, Everywhere
‘I regret it for her,’ I say too quickly. ‘I haven’t felt that good since... well, a while.’
‘So she’s not as frigid as she seems, then?’ Anika smirks, and I almost want to smile.
‘She’s incredible.’
Anika chews her bottom lip. ‘Will you tell me what happened last week? I can’t help if I don’t know.’
‘I don’t think Magdalen would like that.’
‘Neither would Dante.’ Anika stares at me expectantly.
‘Anika, you can’t say anything to him.’ The words rush out in one breath. ‘He wouldn’t get it.’
‘Of course I won’t. But he’s not stupid. He’s going to find out.’
‘Hopefully I’ll be back in New York by then.’ I grimace. The thought of New York, how easy it is to lose myself in the bustling city. But now it feels like I will spend my life searching for a face I know will never be in the crowd.
‘It really kills you not to be an asshole all the time, doesn’t it.’
‘What now?’ I dip my head, impatient to get away from this conversation.
‘I get you for a few weeks, and you’re already eager to leave me again.’
‘You know it’s not that. But I... things have changed. I fucked up.’
Anika sighs and glances at the stairwell where Magdalen disappeared. Slowly, she turns back to me. ‘You really hurt her feelings.’
‘She seems fine to me.’
‘Then you don’t know her at all.’
33
MAGDALEN
The night-time air is chilly as I wait outside the small bar where Roberto suggested we meet. While it’s summer for the rest of Italy, the steep mountains of Castagneto Po trap any and all residual mist, making the village perpetually dewy and wet. He’s chosen a locals-only spot, even though he’s not a local. I make a mental note to ask him about it and hope it’s not just because it’s a ten-minute walk to my house. The restaurant is hidden behind a wall of holm oak trees that crowd the hillside, with only a tiny red door peeking through the greenery. I probably should have worn a jacket. I settled for a skimpy tank top Anika chose. Hopefully, he’ll see my choice not to wear a jacket and consider it flirtatious without me having to do anything flirty. I shiver, unable to help myself. Flirting already seems impossibly difficult.
Someone opens the door to exit, and warm air curls around my arms. A throaty, smoke-filled laugh fills the inside of the bar.
Briefly, I think of Theo and immediately want to cry. The only reason you’re kissing me is because you’re too afraid to fucking talk to anyone else. But instead of sulking for the millionth time this week, I crack my knuckles, stick my foot inside the door before it closes, and force myself to walk inside. The warm air smells faintly of stale body odour and beer, and I blink at the warm light. For some reason, I feel incredibly shy, and my eyes can only look at the other people’s feet. I see shoes scuffing against the floor, someone tapping the heel of their sneaker. Someone’s loafers are crossed at the ankles. I try to look above the calf, but my eyes begin to twitch when I do, so instead, I attempt to navigate the space via the sea of feet, hoping to find an empty space.
As I turn the corner of the bar, I hear Roberto call my name. ‘Magdalen, over here.’
I stop walking and force my eyes to search above the calves, above the tables, and eventually to the faces.
His voice is higher than Theo’s. It’s not a bad thing, but I notice it immediately.
‘Hey.’
‘Hey. You look incredible.’
I shrug my shoulders, unsure of how to respond to that in a witty way, but I end up saying nothing instead.
‘What can I get you to drink?’ Roberto immediately fills the empty space I’ve made, and I feel both grateful and already very exhausted.
‘I’ll get a beer, thanks.’
‘Sure, sure. Go sit.’ He brushes my arm to indicate the table he’s reserved for us, so I walk, thankful for being given an order.
