Page 33 of Win You Over
I nod. “He flirts with everyone. It’s who he is. He’s out of my league, anyway.”
“Oh, fuck right off.” Theo sits up and jabs a foot into my ribs. “He may be stupidly rich, stupidly handsome and stupidly popular, but you, my friend, are far better than him.”
Sitting up, I kick him back playfully.
“Thank you.”
Theo smiles. “Look, you’re only just getting to know him. I like that you’ve found someone else that you’re comfortable around – and I will kill him if he hurts you and he can absolutely never replace me as your best friend – but maybe take this time in Italy to get to know him better. And if things lead somewhere else, and you’re both into it, let it.”
The thought of things leading somewhere with Remington sets off sparks in my chest. How have I gone from wanting nothing to do with him to having a crush on him? Is it a crush? I’ve never had one before.
I blame Remington for all of this. All his charm is a danger to others. Especially to people like me, who are trying to keep safety walls up around him. Like some golden retriever version of Spiderman, he’s scaled them faster than I can build them higher.
“Now, do you need me to tell you how sex works between two men or…”
I tackle Theo onto the bed, jabbing my fingers into his ribs and making him squirm and scream mercy.
Chapter 14
Remington
Dad offered to send a driver to pick us up from the airport, but I opted to drive Holden and me to our villa set in a beautiful sheltered cove nestled on the northern part of the island. The drive from the airport takes us inland before turning back along the coast, giving us a glimpse of the crystal clear turquoise sea and white sandy beaches. This part of the second largest island in the Mediterranean Sea is perfect for windsurfing and snorkelling. Both of which I fully intend for us to do over the next two weeks.
“Wow,” Holden remarks, his face turned towards the window of the Maserati Grecale we’ve rented for the trip. He puts the window down and sticks a hand out, catching the wind in his palm as we drive along the winding roads. The air is warm,humid and cloying, and having the window open has the cool air from the AC rushing out, but I don’t give a shit, as long as he’s happy.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?”
“I never knew water could bethatblue,” he remarks, still not taking his eyes off the scenery.
He finally pulls his hand in and closes the window, the AC working hard to cool the interior of the car back down.
“Fucking hot.”
I scoff. “Ridiculous time to get married in Italy, if you ask me. But no one asked me. And Nadine gets what Nadine wants.”
“Sounds like someone else,” he quips. His voice is quiet, soft, and I wonder if that’s how he’ll always sound. Like he’s whispering loudly.
We fall into a comfortable silence as I drive, keeping an eye on the navigation system, while he watches the world go by. When we pull up to the gates of the five-bedroom villa my family owns, Holden lets out a deep breath and shakes his head in amazement. Sometimes I think Nadine and I take for granted how lucky we are to have a place like this to escape to.
The villa that sits nestled into the rocky hillside, surrounded by thick Mediterranean vegetation dotted with bright purple flowers on one side and the wide blue sea on the other, was an anniversary gift to my mom from my dad, and they spend much of the year here. Through one window, I see Mom, her sun hat flopping over her face as she laughs at something my dad says. They arrived a day before us, wanting to prepare the villa for our arrival.
Climbing out of the car, I round to the back, open the trunk, and take out both our suitcases. The thick air caresses my skin, making my tee stick to my back, and I decide the first plan of action is to throw myself into the pool.
Holden’s door opens, and he slides out, turning on the spot to take in his surroundings. His hand flitters at his side, rubbing over his pocket. His knife isn’t here. He didn’t know what the risks of taking it in his checked luggage were – admitting he hadn’t considered that when he first hid it in his suitcase when he was a kid – so he left it in his messenger bag in my room where it would be safe and away from any random guests his roommates might bring over.
I reach for him, twining our fingers together.
“You good?” I ask, giving his hand a squeeze.
He nods, his smile small.
“Wait until you see inside,” I say, unloading our bags from the car and dragging them behind me as I lead him into the house, where a blast of cool air welcomes us.
Holden is quiet now that we’re not alone. I know he won’t be as quick to talk, but that’s cool with me. I’m becoming an expert in reading his facial expressions. Right now, his eyes are wide, his pink lips parted as his head swings around, taking in the soft hues of the entry hall. The front of the villa on the ground floor is made up entirely of glass windows and sliding doors which open onto an extensive decking area, part of which is covered and hosts large, plush garden furniture. The decking drops to a green lawn lined with pink and purple hydrangeas and at the end of the lawn, seemingly at the end of the world, sits an infinity pool overlooking a private beach. Sunloungers dot around the pool, a colourful towel neatly rolled up on each of them.
I’m so mesmerised by seeing this place through Holden’s eyes that I startle when Mom comes up behind me.
“Boys,” Mom says, “I’ve put you in the room at the end of the hall on the second floor. It’s one of the bigger rooms.”
