1
Grinder
Ten Years Ago
Val d’Orcia, Italy
“It’s two months. You’ll survive,” my older sister, Lily, said the day my parents and I left London and traveled to Tuscany. Easy for her to say since she didn’t have to spend her summer holiday in a country where she didn’t know a soul.
I sighed and dropped my bags in what would be my bedroom, my sanctuary, my escape for the next sixty-five days. I flung myself on the bed, put my hands under my head, and looked out the window.
The place where my parents and I were staying, sat on the edge of the estate and winery known as Antica Cascina dei Conti di Valentini—which translated to “Ancient Farmhouse of the Counts of Valentini.” Looking out at the much newer and larger villa in the distance, my guess was we were staying in the estate’s namesake.
I pulled a book out of my travel bag and rested my head on the pillow that felt as old as the farmhouse. I wasn’t through the first chapter when I heard a female laughing outside the window.
I rolled out of bed and caught a glimpse of a girl more beautiful than any I’d ever seen. She was walking backward in the open field adjacent to the house.
A teenage boy followed, who she alternately ran from and then turned around and teased, laughing all the while. I was transfixed, unable to tear my eyes away even when she caught me spying them from the window and waved. Only when the guy she was with turned, followed her line of sight, and flipped me off, did I retreat back to my bed.
I picked up my book, but set it back down when I realized I’d read several paragraphs and didn’t retain a word. I closed my eyes and pictured her. Who was she? I had to find out.
It was several days before I saw her again. I’d reached the point where I doubted I would.
On this particular morning, my father begged off taking my mum to the open-air market in the local village, so she recruited me. I didn’t complain. In fact, I welcomed the change of scenery.
As I leaned my torso against the car, I felt her before I saw her. I slowly turned, and there she was, standing next to a fountain. A bouquet of flowers dangled in her hand, the petals brushing the cobblestones beneath her feet.
“Buongiorno,” she said, raising her free hand.
“Buongiorno.” I raised my hand too. As she walked closer, I let my eyes drift from her waist-length dark hair to her warm brown eyes, her pretty neck, her narrow waist, and her long legs. I tried to keep my eyes from lingering too long on the way her boobs strained the fabric of her dress, or on how the pale blue of it made her smooth skin appear the color of honey.
“You like to look,” she said, standing less than a foot from me. “From windows, as I walk toward you…”
“It’s hard not to. You’re very beautiful.”
Her eyes scrunched and she cocked her head. “Beautiful?”
“Is there something wrong with being beautiful?”
She
shrugged her shoulders. “There is more to see in a woman than her beauty.”
“I agree.”
She smiled. “Tell me what else you see.”
“You like to laugh.”
“Sì.”
“You’re romantic.”
She raised a brow.
I looked her up and down a second time, which didn’t appear to bother her. “Your dress. The way you carry your flowers as though you’ve almost forgotten they’re in your hand because your mind is in the clouds instead.”
She came closer and leaned against the car. The scent of her overwhelmed me.
“And you smell bloody fantastic.”
She bent at the waist and laughed just like she had the first time I saw her walking in the field. I loved the sound of it.
“Oh, good. Miles, I’m so happy you’ve finally met Pia,” I heard my mum say. She thrust the bags of bread, vegetables, and other purchases into my arms and then cheek-kissed the woman next to me.
“I’ve heard much about you, Mylos,” Pia said, using the Italian version of my name while brushing her shoulder against mine.
I couldn’t help but glare in my mother’s direction.
“All good, Miles,” she said, taking one of the bags from my arms and tossing it in the car through the open window. “We’re just heading back. Can we give you a lift, Pia?”
“Grazie, but I have a few more errands in the village.”
“We could wait,” I blurted at the same moment a guy approached, put his arm around Pia’s waist, and leaned into her.