Page 23 of The Fear of Falling
As we make our way through the lobby and onto the street, I curse my lack of willpower and hold on to her all the more. I started tonight’s conversation so we could make sure we don’t cross any boundaries, but something tells me we’re going to push those lines until they snap. Even if she won’t, I sure as hell know I will.
Non vedo l’ora.
Chapter 9
Avery
Icandefinitivelysaythis is the first time I’ve crashed a wedding. Well, in this case a weddingreception. Even in my wilder days, I was more of an adventurer than a disruptor, and despite hearing a lot about Riccardo over the last few days, I have no idea if he’ll be cool with me showing up to his party.
But tonight’s my last night with Benson, and I don’t want to waste it.
The last three days—and the two before it—were pure magic. True to his word, Benson was clear about his intentions, and while he quickly fell back into the physical contact we shared during our first two days in the city, he hasn’t come anywhere close to kissing me. I’m both relieved and disappointed.
Relieved because I don’t know how good I can be with casual kissing. Disappointed because I’m pretty sure Benson would kiss the same way he does everything else—with confidence and skill.
Strapping on my sandals, I move to the little vanity in my room and take in my appearance. I haven’t worn makeup mostof the week, choosing instead to be as natural and free as I can be. Tonight, I’ve put on some mascara and a bit of blush, but other than that I’m sticking with the status quo. Benson likes how I look when I don’t put in a lot of effort. Like a couple of days ago, when I showed up in the lobby in a sundress and strappy sandals, my hair in loose waves down my back and not a bit of makeup on, he stumbled over his words as he said I looked like I belonged in Florence.
And this dress! It’s one I bought for my wedding-crashing, and I’m proud of myself for choosing a vibrant green rather than sticking with the more muted colors that I’ve grown used to with my business attire. Snapping a quick mirror selfie, I send it to our cousins group chat—a chat I have been severely neglecting—but I need to hurry if I want to get to the reception in time to steal some cake.
And by ‘cake’ I mean ‘a dance with the most attractive man in the universe.’
Benson tried to get me to come to the wedding in its entirety, but that was a line I wouldn’t cross. He convinced me to slip into the reception if nothing else, and when the wedding is over we’ll go out to one of the squares and listen to the street musicians again. I haven’t seen him at all today because of the ceremony, and I’m buzzing with anticipation. A girl doesn’t go five straight days with Benson as a constant companion without getting attached to his easy charm and broad smiles.
Tonight will be one last hurrah before I go back to reality in the morning.
My phone buzzes twice right as I reach my door, and I pause to see the response to the photo. One is from a younger cousin, Lucy, while the other is from Dani.
Lucy:
That color is SO pretty on you!
Dani:
Oo! Look at that gorgeous dress. Looks like things are going well with Mr. Sexy-Benson.
Oh crap. I should have known Dani would bring up Benson, and I am so not prepared for my cousins to learn about my Italian fling. Unfortunately for me, the group chat is thriving today.
Sadie:
Who is this smokin’ Avery and how do we get her to stay??? And who is Mr. Sexy Benson??? Details. Now.
Now Ireallydon’t want to go home.
Though the texts keep coming, I tuck my phone into my purse and head downstairs, my nerves growing with each step. I’m really doing this. Wandering into a wedding where I’ve only met one of the groomsmen whose last name I don’t know. I still don’t know any details about Benson, like his occupation or his family or where he lives. I don’t know what foods he likes or what his hobbies are. I just know he’s easier to talk to than anyone I’ve ever met, and he makes me feel powerful and beautiful and brave.
Riccardo rented out the back terrace of the hotel for the wedding, and the reception is in full swing when I arrive.
A string octet plays classical music in one corner while beautiful people in beautiful clothing linger around the candlelit space. I’ve been out here multiple times for various meals, but I’ve never noticed the floral smell permeating the space. Probably because I’ve only ever been back here with Benson, and he has his own delicious smell. The scent of the bouquets on the tables and hanging from the balconies along the sides of theterrace, mixed with whatever they served for dinner tonight, is intoxicating, and I feel like I’m living in a movie.
“You’re Avery, right?” a soft voice says beside me.
I turn and gasp at the sight of the bride in her elegant A-line gown. She’s absolutely gorgeous. “Um, yeah. Yes. I’m sorry, I know I wasn’t technically invited, but—”
“No, we’rethrilledyou’re here,” a man says as he joins the bride, tucking an arm around her waist and pulling her against his chest. “Benson has been a total downer all day, moping around because he had to wait to hang out with you. I’m Riccardo.” He holds out his hand, which I take with trembling fingers.
I don’t know if I’m embarrassed about being caught or nervous about the idea of Benson being as desperate to see me as I am to see him. Being around him this week has started to feel as natural as breathing, and my morning felt…empty. We haven’t talked about what will happen when I head to the airport tomorrow, and I’m not looking forward to it.
“Avery,” I say, forcing a smile. “You must be Siena. You look absolutely stunning.”
