Lauren Henderson

“This is Luca, our friend,” Leonardo says happily as I think:
Luca. Finally.
“Ciao
,” Luca says, nodding at us, his long legs stretched out, crossed at the ankles. He’s wearing a dark blue shirt tucked into black jeans, and silver rings on a couple of his long fingers, the cigarette held loosely between them. His inky hair tumbles over his forehead, and I see, with a shock like a knife to the chest, that his eyes, heavily fringed with thick black lashes, are the midnight blue of sapphires or deep seawater.
I can’t speak.
“Hey!” Paige waves flirtatiously at Luca, one of those girl-waves where you open and flutter your fingers while flashing a brilliant smile. I hate to admit it, but Paige totally pulls it off. “I’m Paige. And you’re hot!”
Oh my God. Paige is brave enough to tell him to his face that he’s handsome, while I can’t even say hello. I am completely pathetic.


Lauren Henderson, Flirting in Italian
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Flirting in Italian (Flirting in Italian #1) Flirting in Italian by Lauren Henderson
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