Page 100 of Problematic Summer Romance

Which is, to the second, when I feel a burning pain in my calf.

Chapter 31

Lucrezia is adamant: Conor should pee on me.

“Excuse me?” I ask after a few good-measured blinks. But she keeps pointing at my calf, and Conor’s translation doesn’t change.

“She insists that urine is the best remedy for jellyfish stings.”

Lucrezia nods, pleased to have shared her wisdom with us, and glances down at where we sit on the plush velvet couch, perhaps waiting for Conor to unbutton his pants.

“Is this from the same suggestion box that wouldn’t let me swim until two hours past breakfast?”

“Probably. I also caught her throwing salt behind her shoulder the other night. Her medical advice might not be the most solid.”

“Ask her this: If I eat a seed, will a plant sprout in my stomach?”

“I already have.”

“What did she say?”

“Only if I first piss on it.”

I bite my lip to avoid snorting. One of my curls has dried askew, keeps falling on my forehead, and when Conor pulls it back behind my ear, I forget how to breathe.

“What I don’t fully understand is,” I say, struggling to stay focused, “why does it have to beyourpee? I am perfectly capable of producing my own.”

“Maybe she has better faith in my aiming skills.”

“Hmm. Is this a kink of yours? Are you hiding behind a poor elderly woman to introduce water sports in our sex life?”

He blows out a heavy sigh, amused. “We do not have a sex life, Maya.”

“Bummer.” I pout, then glance at Lucrezia. “It’s okay. Not bad at all!” I say with my most brilliant smile, but she mumbles something, unconvinced.

“She asked if it hurts.”

“Tell her: less than Conor Harkness’s persistent rejections.”

“You’re going to have to learn Italian and do that yourself. She also wants to know if you’d like her to call Dr. Cacciari.”

“To pee on me?”

He may not want to smile, but oh, how he fails. “I’ve seen a tube of hydrocortisone lotion in the first aid kit. Just, wait here. And don’t let anyone piss on you.”

“You never let me have fun,” I yell after him, then limp toward Eli, who’s watching Rue carefully pet the dog we rescued. On his brow there is a deep frown.

“Where’s the vet’s office?” I ask.

“Just five minutes away. She’ll see us in an hour.”

“Nice.”

“The vet will be unpleasant,” Rue explains to the puppy. “Butultimately harmless. I advise you to just go with what they ask.” Some would baby-talk at an animal, but Rue? Not the type.

“Maybe, afterward, we should take him to the closest shelter,” Eli suggests. From his tone, not for the first time. Or the second.

“But it would break Tiny’s heart,” Rue points out. “They’re already close friends. They’ve been inseparable since Maya and Hark brought them back. We can’t split them up.”

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