Under My Skin

Chapter 11

The next two weeks passed at the rate a turtle crosses a street in the middle of town. Although I had my laptop, Enzo forbade the use of any social media after the Snapchat incident. In turn, he would not hack into any of my accounts. It felt like a decent starting compromise. We continued to work on our communication skills concerning each other. Some compromises favored me and others favored him. 

One such compromise, Enzo forced me to work out with him so that I wouldn't decay. Needless to say, keeping up with him was difficult. At the same time, I enjoyed beating up the punching bag. Sometimes, I pretended it was him.

"A punch starts in your feet. Plant your right foot behind you, and turn it to the right. Turn it a little more. Okay. Now, make a fist. Don't tuck your thumb under your fingers. That's how you break it. Bend your knees a little."

We'd been at this for an hour. He positioned himself behind the punching bag and held it steady. Enzo continued his instruction.

"A punch uses the weight and momentum of your whole body. You're going to pivot on that back foot until it faces your opponent. Then, twist your hips and carry the energy through to your fist. You want to hit with your middle knuckle."

To the best of my ability, I punched the punching bag, which was harder than I expected. I thought they were soft or at least didn't hurt when I hit them. 

"Good. Now do it faster. The speed is important."

As I punched, the droplets of sweat flew off my forearm and onto the ground. Enzo's body glistened with sweat from the morning light pouring down on us.

"Why are we doing this outside, again?" I asked as I reached for a glass of water. 

Enzo stepped up next to me. His breathing remained calm. On the other hand, my breaths shook my entire body as my lungs grasped at any sense of stability. 

"The villa was not built with a gym, and adding an extension would ruin the historical architecture." 

My eyebrow raised as I stated, "It's not like this place was built in the sixteen-hundreds. Italians didn't start arriving in America until the late eighteen-hundreds, and most of them were too poor to build this."

After I put the glass down, I noticed Enzo's blank expression. He cross his arms over his chest and leaned his head back so that he'd look down towards me.

"Should have just said you won't add an extension because the place is sentimental. That makes more sense." 

"Breaks over." 

Unwilling to acknowledge his emotions, Enzo stood up and pointed to the punching bag. Following another thirty minutes under the broiling sun, I relaxed in my room after a well-deserved shower. 

As I stared out the open window, I acknowledged that Enzo and I made progress during our time together. He was much kinder to me here than in his house, and with all our compromises, things progressed without arguments. However, I tried not to forget what he's done, but it felt like he turned a new leaf.

From my room, I heard Enzo on the phone with his brother again. The villa had an open floor plan, so his office didn't have a door to close to block the noise.

A warm front plagued the villa, and it was the hottest day in two weeks. While sweating in my room, I saw the pool from the balcony outside the double glass doors. The pool had stairs at one end and a waterfall fountain on the other end.

The water was clear as an FL diamond. I didn't have a swimsuit packed with me, but I did have something else. It was risky. In deep thought, I stared at the navy lingerie in its white box. Would it even tolerate chlorine?