Kiss Me Goodnight in Rome (The Senior Semester Series Book 2) by Gina Azzi Page B

read it?” I can’t keep the edge of sarcasm from my voice as I study him carefully. He seems sincere enough, but the small dimple winking from his cheek makes me feel like he’s somehow teasing me.
    “I’ve read all the classics.”
    I narrow my eyes at him suspiciously.
    “You know, ‘ books have led some to learning and others to madness .’” He smiles broadly.
    “That’s not Dante.” I guess, even though I’m not sure.
    He shakes his head. “It’s not.”
    Several seconds pass. “Well…” I dip my head toward him “…are you going to tell me who said it?”
    He points to my syllabus, lying on top of my notebook. “Petrarca,” he says, pronouncing the poet’s name in Italian.
    “Petrarch said that? Are you sure? Doesn’t he only write about love?”
    He shakes his head. “If that’s what you think, then I really better leave you to study.” He laughs softly, low and husky. “Of course, I could always help you. I’m Lorenzo,” he adds, leaning forward and taking my hand in his.
    Lorenzo. Of course Lexi was right.
    “Mia,” I say, squeezing back. “Amelia Petrella, but my friends call me Mia.”
    “So we will be friends then?” he asks, continuing before I can respond. “Good, I was hoping you would say that.”
    I blush, averting my gaze, my hand still trapped in his.
    His eyes scan over my syllabus. “I see you also have readings by Boccaccio.” He looks up and smiles. “It will be a busy semester for you.”
    I nod.
    “You will enjoy it. Girls always love the Petrarca readings best and his unyielding love and passion for Laura.”
    I smile. “I haven’t read much by him, but I saw several of his quotes in my mom’s journal. My favorite was ‘ To be able to say how much you love is to love but little .’”
    Lorenzo pauses for a moment, holding my gaze, his eyes searing into mine. I shift uncomfortably, feeling as though he’s seeing straight through me, right to my core. Is he picturing me naked? “Si, I’d have to agree with him.” He blinks, breaking the moment. “And did you get caught reading her journal?” he whispers, leaning closer to me conspiratorially, his hand dropping my fingers to rest on my notebook.
    I laugh, shaking my head. “No. My mom passed away when I was nine.”
    A shadow falls over his face as he quickly averts his gaze. “I’m sorry. Excuse me for joking around.”
    I reach out and place my hand on his forearm. His skin is hot against my hand, and I can feel the thick cords of muscle in his forearm. He doesn’t pull away and for a moment I stare at my hand on his arm, my pale skin contrasting against his warm olive tones. “It’s okay. Really. It’s nice to talk about her sometimes.” He looks up, and I smile when he meets my eyes to reassure him.
    He sighs heavily. “My papa passed about six months back. Pulmonary Fibrosis.” He rubs a hand over his forehead, momentarily shielding his eyes from view.
    “Oh, Lorenzo, I’m so sorry.”
    He shakes his head slightly. “No, it’s okay. You are right. Sometimes it is nice to talk about him, to still have him as part of my normal day, a part of my life.”
    I nod, understanding his desire to share details about his father but at the same time keeping them all for himself. “Was this his restaurant?” I ask lightly, nodding toward the open restaurant door behind him.
    He turns and takes in Angelina’s Ristorante for a moment. “No…” he shakes his head turning back to me “…this was my great-grandfather’s restaurant. He started it in 1907. Then it passed to my grandfather who didn’t have any sons. So now, it belongs to Mama.” He smiles suddenly. “And she loves this place. Especially since my papa’s passing, the restaurant has become like a sanctuary of sorts for her.”
    “Oh. Is that why you work here?”
    He shrugs. “I guess so. I’m not exactly sure why I’m spending so much time here lately. It just seems important to my mama that my sister Claudia and I help