Page 62 of I Think Olive You
At least this way we will part on good terms and I won’t have to pretend anymore. I can wallow in my feelings back in the States. I almost thought “back home” but that’s not true anymore. Giuliana showed me that home is more than a place, it’s people. And reality can only be postponed for so long.
“I—I’ll be packed and ready to go first thing in the morning.”
Anxiety ramps up my heartbeat at the prospect of our parting, but I’m out of time.
“No.” Firm.
“No?” I ask, confused, frustrated. Just let me go, damn it.
“I’m not telling you to leave, I’m telling you there is no longer an obligation to stay.”
She’s so close I can reach out and touch her.
“Well, what the hell is the difference?”
“Matteo, why must you be so difficult about this? Are you really going to make me spell it out for you?” Part of me wants her to, because I’m not sure where she’s going with this and I’m scared to hope.
The other part just wants to be a little shit.
“We both know you’re the smart one, so if you wouldn’t mind…”
“As of the last olive pulled from those trees, you are no longer my employee, volunteer… whatever. And that means?—”
This is real. That means…
“—we finally get to do this,” I finish, surging toward her and gathering her up into my kiss.
Giuliana’s hands are in my hair, tugging me down toward her and threading between the strands as if she doesn’t want to let go.
It’s exquisite. It’s agony. It’s such an enormously fucking bad idea and I don’t care at all. Because I’ve waited weeks for this moment. Every ache-filled day watching her from afar, all those little brushes of skin driving me to a frenzy. Each night burning for her and unable to drag her over the edge with me as I touched myself. They bleed into this kiss and she moans against my lips.
Forcing myself to pull away, I try to do the right thing.
“Are you sure about this? Summer is over. I don’t want you to regret it again.”
I don’t want you to regret me.
“What?”
Her beautiful face folds into concerned lines and knitted brows, her mouth pulling down at the corners.
“Why would you think that?”
“Because of what happened last time. I know you regret our night in Gravina,” I say. Her reaction that first day made it abundantly clear.
“Matteo, I was terrified. What happened that night in town shook me, and you left me. I know we didn’t make any promises but when I woke alone, I thought you were the one who regretted it. So, when I saw you here and I realized that you came for the grove, not for me… I was embarrassed. Besides, I had to maintain some semblance of professionalism.”
“I—I didn’t know until I got here. You scared me too. You frightened the life out of me and I ran away like a coward. I figured that if working here with you was the only way I was going to get to be around you, then I'd be okay with it being strictly professional. You drew the line in the sand, I was just respecting that—most of the time.”
“God, we’re idiots.” Her mirthless chuckle kicks up something inside me—a dark curl of desire I’ve tried to keep smothered for her sake.
“Giuliana, you have to know that I’ve wanted you, this whole time. I’ve worked alongside you. I’ve yearned for you, every day.”
Our foreheads resting on each other, we spill our secrets onto the earth we’ve worked together all summer.
“I longed to walk down that hall and open the door. I wanted to go to you so many times.” Her words settle deep within the burning hunger of my need for her.
“I dreamed about you,” I rasp. “Thought about you and that night in Gravina so many times. That night at the villa, I drowned in every breath you took on the other side of the room. I would have crawled to you if you’d asked.”