Page 64 of I'll Look for You, Everywhere
‘Listen, I didn’t pla—’
‘You should have just fucking told me.’
My mouth opens to defend myself. To blame the gods and the mystic power of red wine for making me want his sister.
‘You’re the one who said I wasn’t allowed near her.’ My brain feels too slow, his words and mine muddle together in a thick fog that I can only seem to pluck out letter by letter.
Dante rolls his eyes and slams the trunk shut. ‘Cazzo, you complete and utter idiot. I said BE CAREFUL. I said don’t pull the same shit you did in secondary school. She’s my baby sister – am I not allowed one protective big brother speech? Or are you the only one fucking entitled to it?’
I bend down to pick up the beaten-up baguette, mumbling something like ‘of course’, but I’m still so stunned I can’t be sure what words I’m saying.
‘You would have told me once.’ He rests one hand on my shoulder, keeping me bent down so I can only stare at Magdalen’s luggage. His voice is low, serious. ‘Once, it would have killed you to keep a secret from me.’ Squeezing tightly for just a moment, he tosses his cigarette near the wheel of the car before releasing me with a shove.
37
MAGDALEN
When we get to the villa, Dante and Theo are nowhere to be found. Lucia and Maio’s car is parked on the nearby street; when we get inside, they’re feeding each other olives across the kitchen island.
‘Oh, this is disgusting.’ Anika and I ogle them through the doorway. ‘Can’t you save this for the honeymoon?’
‘To think we were going to christen this place. They beat us to it,’ I muse.
‘Which bedroom do you think they had sex in?’
‘I heard that.’ Lucia pipes up while wiping her mouth of excess olive oil. She eyes us with feline eyes, smirking.
‘And?’
‘First floor. Far right.’
I gasp while Anika erupts into a fit of laughter and soon enough we’re both gagging and giggling while Maio hides his head in his hands in shame.
‘Maio, you’ve got to get used to her crude mouth,’ I say between laughs.
‘Oh, he’s used to it.’ Lucia smiles widely, causing Maio to abruptly get up from leaning on the kitchen island and stare hard at Lucia to convey some secret message that she’s ignoring.
‘When did this family get so sexually liberal? I miss the days when everyone suppressed their feelings,’ I sigh, walking to the counter to steal an olive.
‘While this has been fun...’ Maio pats down his shirt, obviously looking for something to do with his hands while he reins in his embarrassment. ‘... I haven’t had a chance to look at the garden yet.’
‘That’s so funny, sweetie.’ Lucia closes the lid to the olive container while my fingers try to grab one. ‘Neither have I.’ She swats his ass while they walk to the backyard and I hide my smile behind my hands.
‘The boys have put your luggage in the rooms upstairs,’ Lucia calls while closing the door behind her and grabbing Maio’s hand.
We walk up the marble stairs, cold stone cutting through the humid, summer air warming the house.
I peek inside the bedrooms and see Dante’s swimming shorts and belts scattered across the bed in the safari-themed bedroom. There’s a zebra-print cushion on the crisp white sheets and an elephant mural on the far-right wall. The furniture is dark and sleek – wicker stools and woven rugs laid carefully throughout the space. It’s so Dante – chaotic and overtly masculine. It is clearly meant for him.
Anika’s luggage is laid on the bed in the pink room next to his. Her curtains are frilly and fun, with a gingham tufted skirt around the bed. She lies across it, rummaging blindly for something in her luggage, humming some nameless song. I tiptoe down the hall until I spot my luggage in the corner of the bedroom diagonal from Anika’s. Stepping in, I can’t help but feel underwhelmed and exposed by whoever chose this room for me. Shades of various pale blues decorate the space. A simple bed with a cornflower-blue duvet. No throw pillows or vase of flowers. The only creative liberty, really, being a muted painting of the ocean above the beige headboard. It feels lifeless, incomplete. The room they made after exhausting all their efforts on the others. I throw my purse on the bed. At least there’s a bed.
As I go to open the luggage, I notice a white T-shirt has been tucked into the handle of the bag. Frowning, I pull it out and go to check the size but I don’t even get to the tag before a wave of his scent washes over me. It’s invasive, heavenly toxic, and there’s no stopping me from bringing the fabric to my nose, breathing him in. Turning scent into delusion as I wish for him here, kneeled next to me in this sad, blue room, his sunlight warming the place up. As I unravel the shirt, a piece of paper tucked between the folded creases falls onto my lap.
Looks like you forgot pyjamas.
Thank god for me.
I cover my mouth with my hand to suppress my laughter. And shake my head – ashamed, happy, confused, anxious. Wanting more.
