Page 23 of Duke for the Summer

“Are you worried about her?”

The thought hadn’t crossed his mind. “No. Thea can handle herself. By now she’s probably like five vodka sodas in and has made friends with all the flight attendants. But–” but it was oddly sweet of Jacopo to care.

“It will be nice for you. To have family here. You must have missed her.”

“I did.” Nate chewed a cuticle, a jittery feeling in his stomach. “But it’ll be weird. I mean, you met my family, some of them. We’re weird. And–and she’s so much more fun than me, so I’m sure everyone will like her better than me.”

Jacopo looked at him. “I won’t.”

Nate shoved his shoulder, hoping the darkness hid the flush rising in his cheeks. “You haven’t met her yet.”

He wanted to keep Jacopo talking, but the other man had begun to gather up the wine glasses and the empty bottle, and suddenly Nate was staring down the barrel of another lonely night, lying awake in the narrow twin bed and trying to pretend that Jacopo wasn’t also awake, trying to ignore the way the small room felt steeped in his presence.

“Watch TV with me,” Nate said in a rush. “I have Ghost Hunters. Remember, from Eugene? You liked that show.”

Jacopo pressed his lips together, looking at him.

“Just for a little bit. Please? Keep me company.”

“For a little bit,” Jacopo agreed.

A few episodes later, after about a billion jump scares and some EVP recordings that sounded nothing like a Civil War general saying his wife’s name, despite the insistence of the hosts, Jacopo had migrated from awkwardly perching on a chair at Nate’s bedside to sharing the mattress. Even though theyweren’t touching, the weight of him on the bed was comforting.

“Ok, but didyouhear the name Abigail?” Nate asked. “Because if I heard anything, it was the tail end of a Burger King commercial.”

“I am not sure how real this show actually is,” Jacopo said, brow furrowed.

“Oh wow, you think?”

Jacopo took a sip of wine. They had opened another bottle after all. “I’ve read about these Civil War battlefields, though. And I do believe that energy can stick around, in places like that.”

“Man, you sound like my mom. So you do believe in ghosts?” Nate snuck a glance at him.

“Oh, yes. I’ve seen one.”

Nate rolled his eyes. “No you haven’t. Where was it?”

“In this very castle.”

“Fuck, Jacopo. No way.” Nate grabbed Jacopo’s arm, his voice ratcheting up an octave. “There’s aghost? Why wouldn’t you tell me that, where–” But he broke off, because Jacopo was laughing.

God, his smile. His smile was the crescent moon and the stars and the sparkling sea below, and Nate felt himself sway a little.

“You’re joking,” he said, mouth dry.

“I’m sorry. I couldn’t help it.”

“You asshole! I was actually scared!” Nate realized he was still holding onto him, and let go reluctantly. “I didn’t know you even made jokes,” he sniffed.

“Sometimes.” Jacopo was still smiling slightly, his eyes bright.

“You keep surprising me,” Nate said, smiling back. “I like it.”

Jacopo’s cheeks turned red, and he looked away. “I reallydid see one, though. I’m not joking about that. Not in the castle,” he said quickly. “Out on the western side of the island, in the old Roman town.”

Nate watched Jacopo’s face instead of the screen, taking him in. “What did it look like?”

“A person. Or, the shape of a person. But unclear, like the television when a channel can’t come in. What is it called? Static.” Jacopo shrugged. “Perhaps I imagined it. It was during the day, and I was alone. I had gone off to read, and to smoke my father’s cigarettes.” He looked at the laptop, but his eyes were distant, as if he weren’t really watching what was on it. “I’d like to take you there. To the Roman town. When your knee is better.”

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