Gianluca Ginoble and I

Chapter 6

Chapter 6

          I didn’t see Gianluca the next day, or the next, but I thought about him all the time and dreamed about him, too. I wanted to see him again and kiss him and talk with him.

          The first day that I didn’t see him, I found an envelope on my bench, and in it a card that read, “Dearest Naomi, Il Volo is being interviewed on Ellen, so we must fly there and back and stay overnight. I’ll see you when we return. –Gianluca Ginoble.”

          I thought it was funny how he signed his last name too. How many Gianlucas did he think I knew?

          So Piero and Ignazio were gone too.

          I spent my time trying to finish reading my book, jotting down ideas for books to write, and of course, disappearing into nature.

          After those two days, I went out and saw Gianluca’s shoes on the back steps, but the sun was just rising, so I didn’t knock or anything.

          But I did leave an envelope on the back porch, like he had done for me. It felt appropriate.

          “Gianluca, I’ll probably be down at the lake if you want to find me. I missed you! - Naomi.”

          I biked to the lake and climbed a tall tree, swinging my legs and throwing stones into the water to see the ripples from above.

          Eventually I heard footsteps, and I saw Gianluca approaching.

          I sat quietly, watching him.

          He saw my bike in the shrubs and went to the edge of the water, looking around for me.

          He was wearing a black T-shirt and jeans, and I could see he was fingering something in his pocket.

          “Gianluca!” I called.

          “Naomi!” he said, the familiar accent sounding wonderful to my ears. He looked up at me, shielding his eyes from the sun. “Care to come down?”

          I swung my legs onto another branch and carefully climbed down.

          “Be careful!” he called, walking up to the base of the tree.

          I bounded up to him and he opened his arms to hug me.

          I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and he held me in his firm, unmoving grasp.

          I pulled away and looked up at him eagerly.

          He leaned forward and kissed me, his arms going around my waist.

          He pulled back and rested his forehead against mine.

          “I have to talk to you about something,” he said.

          Uh-oh.

          “Something bad?”

          “No, something good.”

          “Okay.”

          We moved away from the lake to a grassy area and sat, me crossed-legged, and he stretched out, leaning back on his arms.

          “You know that Il Volo is somewhat well-known, right?”

          “Well that’s an understatement!” I said, “But yes, I know what you’re talking about.”