The Part of Me with You

Chapter 5: Libby

Deluca did drink coffee, and Libby suggested a bookstore a few blocks away with a little café inside. She figured that the topic of reading could at least get them safely through one cup.

"Shall we walk then," he said, eyeing her as she went around to the other side of the car.

"What, you don't trust my driving?"

"It's just such a nice day, and then we can...talk."

He said it like there were a certain conversation they'd been putting off, something they could finally get out in the open. She had no clue what that might be, especially since they'd just met.

"Okay then," she said, locking the car again. Probably smarter to stay in public view anyway. Hadn't she learned anything from the rules of online dating? Not that this was a date, of course.

All of Libby's dates in the past year had left a lot to be desired. Mainly desire itself. She'd had stimulating conversations about politics in the student union, and business talks on the quad. She'd even had the one great afternoon talking all about Mart Shelley with a cute guy from her British Lit course. But none of it had gone anywhere, and it was all starting to feel rather pointless. She'd begun to feel homesick with every swipe and had ended up deleting the apps from her phone altogether.

In the fresh afternoon air, Libby and Deluca fell into step next to each other on the sidewalk. She was glad she'd agreed to the walk, feeling like an Austen girl getting invigorated and letting go of some of her chaotic feelings from the bakery.

She glanced over at Delcua, catching a glimpse of the lightly freckled pattern of his profile. There was that feeling again, like she knew him from somewhere, or that there was something familiar between the two of them.

"I never really got the chance to ask how you know my aunt," she said, hoping that she could gain some insight from that angle.

Your aunt?"

Libby nodded. "Sorry, I'm Sadie's niece. It's confusing since we're so close in age, but I'm her maid of honor. Are you in the wedding at all?"

"No," said Deluca. "I am...a friend of the bride and groom."

That was conveniently vague.

"Ok... a friend from where?"

He looked up at the sky in the way he seemed to habit of doing, and doubt crept into Libby's chest and peered out at this boy in front of her with such a trustworthy face. It was the first time she was completely certain he was lying.

"Are you close to them?" she pried, and his mouth set into a line like he knew she was onto whatever he was keeping from her.

"Not so close, no."

They'd reached the bookstore already and they had to part to make room for the family leaving the front door. When they'd passed, Deluca had a hand on the back of his neck and frustration on his face. "Perhaps I should go," he said in his subtle accent. Not Italian at all now that she thought about it.

"Oh no, you don't," she said sternly. It was
time to abandon all pretense, or else
she wasn't going through with this coffee or anything else with him. "You're going to tell me who you are and what you were doing in my house yesterday. In my bedroom." Or else I'm calling the police, she thought, but she didn't say it. She didn't know if she would actually do it.

Deluca peered through the window of the shop, where people were chatting and caffeinated and going about their normal lives, and Libby wondered for a moment if he would make a run for it. Instead, he stepped back and nodded.