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

Gianluca.
    Pete and I have met for lunch several times now and still, we haven’t made any decisions regarding our project. The uncertainty is making me anxious, but I can’t bring myself to say anything … mainly because whenever I am with Pete I’m way too distracted by his good lucks, charming personality, and hilarious stories to demand that we focus on our schoolwork. But as September draws to a close, I realize we really do need to buckle down and work on our assignment.
    Me: Hey, Pete, I think we need to start working on this project for real. Thoughts?
    Pete: Agreed, Mia. I’m heading to Scotland this weekend. Yeah! Let’s talk when I’m back in Rome.
    I sigh. I forgot all about Pete’s trip to visit his family in Glasgow.
    Me: Okay. Have fun!
    Pete: Will do. Have a good weekend.
    Moments later, Lexi bursts into my room. “Get your ass up.” She snaps her fingers at me. “We’re going shopping! We need to buy new dresses. Tomorrow, we party! Gianluca told me about a sick club. It’s even better than the last one we went to.” She takes a deep breath.
    I raise my eyebrows at her. “You mean the one I barfed at?
    She laughs. “That’s in the past. I’ve now learned you can’t drink tequila. Stick to prosecco. And maybe vodka?” She advises before clapping her hands, “Chop, chop. We need to find dresses for tomorrow night. I’m giving you five minutes to get ready. And that’s being generous.” She walks over to my laptop and logs into Spotify, choosing a playlist as I open my wardrobe to find a pair of jeans.
    “Love this song,” she comments when the playlist begins with Justin Beiber’s “Love Yourself.” Lexi throws a long-sleeved tee at me. “I love it here.”
    I laugh and nod my head because really, I do too.

Chapter Fifteen
    Lorenzo
    Jab, jab, one-two, hook. Jab, jab, one-two, hook.
    My gloves pound out a steady rhythm against the pads Sandro holds as we get in a workout. Muscles in my shoulders and arms burn, and I welcome the sting; it’s been too long since I’ve hit the gym.
    A techno beat pulses out of the speakers, the guys around us all focused on hitting the heavy bags, sparring, or shadowboxing in the mirrors that line the wall. A lone guy in the corner jumps rope. It’s been a long time since I’ve hit the boxing gym. I used to come here with Papa when I was home from university on summer holiday. He had one hell of a right hook. Even in the end.
    “Pick up the pace,” Sandro comments as I throw a left jab.
    I focus on the pads, weaving as he comes at me.
    Come on, Enzo. Keep your elbows in. Tuck your chin. Gloves up. Don’t drop your hands.
    Sandro swipes at me again, and I step back, faltering slightly. I swear loudly and a rare smile cracks Sandro’s face as he tries to knock me back farther. I throw a hard punch and wipe the grin off his face. He’s creepy as fuck when he smiles. Doesn’t do it often enough to be a welcoming sight.
    Fifteen minutes later, sweat pours down my spine, pooling into the small of my back, dampening the fabric of my T-shirt. “Fuck,” I comment.
    Sandro nods. “You need to get back in here. You’re lagging. Too slow.”
    Frustration grips me as I clench my fists and glare at him.
    Unaffected, Sandro shrugs. “It’s the truth.”
    I give him a dirty look but don’t say anything because the fucker is right. I am lagging. It has been too long. I’ve been logging too many hours at Angelina’s; I’ve been too preoccupied with the messed up budget from the vineyards, the fudged ledgers Giuseppe keeps calling about. I’m spending too many nights drinking and trying to fuck a beautiful brunette out of my mind, not out of my system since I haven’t had so much as a kiss from that sweet mouth. And now I’ve put on weight.
    And it’s definitely not muscle.
    “Want to hit the club tomorrow tonight?” Sandro asks, taking a swig from his water bottle.
    “I thought you had a date?”
    He shrugs. “I’ll meet you