Inferno (Page 91)

‘Oh,’ I said. Beneath the dull thud of grief there was something else flickering inside me. ‘You didn’t care about the … the name.’

‘Not the name.’ He held my gaze, unfaltering, unblinking. ‘Just the girl.’

I looked at my hands interlocked on top of the duvet. ‘You really aren’t like them,’ I murmured.

‘No,’ he said. ‘I’m not.’

I thought of my own family. The safe, the switchblades, the ring. Evelina. God. The things I knew. The things I wished I didn’t know.

I shook my head. ‘If you knew how badly I’m tangled up in this Marino thing …’ I trailed off, my words falling into breathlessness. It was too much to think about.

He offered me a conspiratorial smile. ‘If you knew how badly I’m tangled up in this Falcone stuff …’

I grimaced. ‘You know what I mean.’

‘I’m not going to judge you,’ he said. ‘You’re the same person you always were. So please,’ he leant back again and this time his smile was soft, ‘don’t worry about all that other stuff, Marino.’

‘OK, Falcone.’ I scowled at him and he scowled right back. ‘But I really just want to be by myself right now, so if you think I’m just going to sit here and spill my guts to you about what I’m feeling, then you’re wrong.’

‘That’s fine.’ He shrugged, looking past me towards the slivered gap in my curtains. ‘Did you know it’s going to be a blood moon tonight? You should open your curtains so you can see it.’

‘Are you being for real right now?’

He raised his eyebrows, the movement making his eyes seem impossibly huge and bluer than ever. ‘Have you never seen one?’ he asked. ‘The moon looks like it’s been dipped in red paint and it glows so bright you can barely see the stars. It’s one of those phenomena that remind you how—what? Why are you looking at me like that?’

‘OK, Mufasa. I get it.’

Luca’s mouth dropped open and I had the absurd feeling of laughter catching in my cheeks. ‘Excuse me for trying to enlighten you about the wonders of this universe.’

‘Don’t waste your breath on me, Nature Nerd. Save it for the space documentary you so obviously want to make.’

He shook his head. ‘See what happens when I try to be sincere? You stomp on my dreams.’

‘I’m not stomping on them, I’m making fun of them. There’s a difference.’

‘Is there?’

‘It’s very subtle.’

‘So are you going to let me finish?’

I was pulled back into myself, the amusement draining from the ache in my cheeks. Had I been smiling? I frowned, scolding myself. I rubbed at my chest, trying to soothe the sudden roaring pain inside it, demanding to be felt.

Luca was talking again. What was his game plan? Did he really think I was interested in astrology at a time like this? ‘What are you still doing here?’ I interrupted. ‘I mean, seriously.’

He fell out of his sentence. I watched him weigh his words, surprised at how accustomed I had become to the subtleties in his body language. ‘We went through a big thing, Sophie. You went through a big thing.’

‘So?’

‘So?’ he repeated with emphasis. ‘I’m worried about you.’

‘Don’t.’ The pang was growing deeper. I lay back and looked at the ceiling.

‘You saved my life, Sophie. Again,’ he added after a beat, like he couldn’t quite believe it. I wasn’t sure which shocked him more, the fact that he kept almost dying, or that I kept saving him.

‘That’s 2-1 to me,’ I said, without feeling any amusement. ‘You owe me a grand gesture.’

‘I thought it was a bouquet.’

‘One is a bouquet. Two is a grand gesture.’

‘Name it.’

‘Go away. Is that grand enough for you?’

‘That’s too grand.’

I exhaled noisily at the ceiling.

‘So what’s going on with that old lady in your kitchen? She’s been here all week. I asked her if she was your grandmother and she called me a worthless heathen and told me to mind my own business. Millie had to force her to let us inside and when Nicoli tried to make a sandwich she threw a fork at him. As someone who has thrown many forks at my brother I wouldn’t advise it. He has a very bad temper …’ Luca kept talking, filling the space with words upon words, waiting for me to bite.

I unbunched the duvet and pulled it over me again with a groan. He could sit in my room for ever and burn a hole in my carpet, but if he thought he could get me to open up to him he was wrong.

He changed tack. ‘What did you say to Nicoli earlier? I’ve never seen him look so contrite. Was it the whole beard thing? It makes him look creepy, doesn’t it? A couple more days and he’ll turn into Rasputin. That’s a historical reference, by the way. It’s very funny, I assure you …’

I had done a history project on Rasputin. I smiled despite myself, then bit the inside of my cheeks and concentrated on the soreness as I made myself remember my mother’s face.

Finally Luca fell silent, defeated by my stillness. I could still feel his presence. I smelt the faintness of his aftershave in the air. I was keenly aware of his every exhale, his every quiet movement.

He didn’t budge, didn’t even take out his phone. He just sat staring into the darkness, and for what? After ten minutes I sat up again and burrowed over my duvet, freeing myself from its clinging heat. I sat facing him on the bed. ‘Can’t you take a hint?’