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

strengthened by mom’s passing, weakened by Claire’s presence, completely gone now? Or is our bond something that can be revived?
    As I sink into my fluffy pillow for bed, all I can think of is how much has changed in such a short amount of time. Just three weeks ago, I was in New York panicking about coming to Rome. Would I make friends? Would I get lost on the way to school every day? Would I know how to interact with guys? And now, I’m tipsy on a school night! I laugh to myself, my hands splayed over my stomach. I wince at the roll I feel there when I pinch my fingers together. Although I did consume too many glasses of wine tonight, I did do a stellar job at skipping dinner completely—and still holding my alcohol.
    I shake my head.
    Tomorrow I’ll do better.
    * * *
    After the conclusion of class on Wednesday, Pete trails me out of the classroom.
    “Ciao, Professoressa,” he calls over his shoulder.
    “Ciao, Pietro.” She waves back.
    Pete places his hand on the small of my back, his fingers lightly working up the back of my shirt to touch the small strip of exposed skin between my long-sleeved T-shirt and jeans. I stand up straighter. His touch guides me into the hallway, down the stairs to the main entrance, and outside into the sunshine. Once we’re on the street, he takes my hand lightly in his own, walking briskly down meandering side streets.
    “Ready for lunch?” he asks.
    I nod.
    “Hope you like Italian,” he jokes.
    I walk faster, trying to match his pace. “You know you’re way around really well.”
    “I’m not living too far from school. You’re going to love this restaurant; it’s got awesome pizza. But I guess most places here do, at least compared to home.” He smiles at me warmly when he says home and a little flicker of anticipation shoots through my stomach.
    I suppose home is practically the same for both of us. Here we are, amongst a ton of study abroad students from all over the world, and Pete and I are the only two in our program from the tristate area. It’s shocking really. But then again, most study abroad students from the U.S. study at the University of Rome, not the small private university Pete and I attend.
    “Hey…” I swat a hand at his arm “…our home has got some pretty decent pizza!”
    “True.” He laughs. “Yours more than mine.”
    I nod in agreement. New York does have the best pizza in the U.S. Hands down.
    “Here we are.” Pete tugs my hand as we arrive at our destination. Quattro Gusti. Four Flavors. Sounds more like a gelateria, but whatever. I’m glad it’s not. A green awning with white trim hangs over the outdoor seating, providing a stretch of shade.
    “Looks good,” I tell him.
    “It is.” He nods seriously. “Here, take a seat.” He pulls out a chair for me on the patio, and I settle back into it.
    Pete walks around to the other side of the table, running a hand through his sandy-brown hair. He’s cute. Really cute actually. He wears his hair short, cut close to his scalp. His eyes are hazel, a dreamy swirl of blue and green and grey. Although he’s not very tall, I’d say about 5’9, he’s broad. The muscles of his upper arms strain slightly against the fabric of his button-down shirt. He dresses differently than any of the college guys I know, more presentable. No sweatpants and hoodies for Pete.
    He sits down across from me and smiles broadly at the waitress when she arrives to take our order. I’m so caught up in watching Pete, the way his whole face brightens when he speaks with someone, the lopsided grin that casually spreads across his lips, the amusement that flickers in his eyes, I don’t even realize that he and the waitress are staring at me until the waitress clears her throat.
    I jump and want to smack myself. Good God, Mia, get it together. “Vorrei un caffé con latte scremato,” I say, happy I remember the Italian word for skim milk.
    “And for lunch?” Pete prompts me.
    Ugh. Lunch.
    “Insalata verde.”