Kissing in Italian by Henderson Lauren

Author:Henderson, Lauren [Henderson, Lauren]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9780375984532
Publisher: Random House Children's Books
Published: 2014-03-11T07:00:00+00:00

Which wasn’t exactly the satisfaction I needed.

“Hey!” Paige bursts into our room, a huge smile on her face. “Are you two ready?” She’s so revved up that she’s forgotten she’s pretending Kelly doesn’t exist, and as soon as she continues I realize why.

“We’re going to the beach!” she carols. “And you know what that means? Tons of boys! Plus, lifeguards! Hot Italian lifeguards!”

A Really Worthy Adversary

Wow. Lounging by a private pool in Chianti with a couple of boys hasn’t prepared us in any way for an Italian beach in the full height of summer. It’s packed as full of tanned and oiled Italians, their skins as dark as cherrywood from this long hot summer, as the narrow Venetian streets are with tourists. Catia’s picked a stabilimento, which has a bar, an open-air restaurant, and its own stretch of beach; you have to pay for lounger and umbrella hire to get in, and the guy who’s leading us to our group of chairs weaves through a throng of happy, swimsuit-wearing, chattering Italians who are standing around in groups everywhere, waving their hands as they talk, pushing back their hair, and all looking so cool that by the time we get to the loungers, we’re relieved just to sit down in the shade and get our bearings.

This is glamour central. Or maybe it would be more accurate to say confidence central. It’s like walking into a party where everyone knows everyone else. You look around and slowly realize that people are in small groups, that there are couples together and maybe even some lone singles, but the overall impression is utterly intimidating.

“They’re all so—” Kelly starts.

“I know,” I say.

It’s totally unlike any English beaches I’ve ever been on, or any Scandinavian ones; when we visit Mormor and go to the lake in Norway, the locals are much more reserved. And covered. With a lot of the guys here, I just don’t know where to look. There are a lot of Speedos. I didn’t expect that. Leonardo and Andrea, by the pool, always wore looser swimsuits, sort of like boxers, and Evan has those typical baggy American shorts—American boys seem much shyer than Italian ones about showing off their bodies, as far as I can see.

“See! Told you!” Paige sings out, pointing up at a wooden tower, on top of which a lifeguard is lounging, smoking a cigarette, talking on his mobile phone, his skin tanned so dark he might be Indian, wearing nothing but a tiny, shiny pair of red Speedos.

“But Paige, his swimsuit!” I object.

Paige tosses her head.

“Actually, Violet,” she says, “I think you’re being really sexist. Why should girls be able to wear bikinis if boys can’t wear Speedos? Boys like to tan too!”

“My dad calls them budgie smugglers,” Kelly volunteers, and I snigger at this.

So does Paige, when she figures it out. Then, however, she shuts it down, because it came from Kelly. Turning away from us pointedly, Paige pulls off her T-shirt and skirt and lies back on the lounger in her pink crocheted bikini.

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