Flirting in Italian by Lauren Henderson Page B

a male beauty parade: they’re showing off for us, opening their peacock tails to display the bright colors.
    I glance at Paige and Kendra, who look just as wide-eyed and dazzled by all the attention as I feel. Paige, with her bubbly personality and blond curls, is literally surrounded by boys, and I can’t tell if she likes any of them in particular. Kendra is flirting with Andrea and a friend of his, her technique the opposite of Paige’s. Paige is loud, expansive, reaching out to draw more and more boys in; Kendra speaks softly, sexily, so boys have to lean in to hear her, entranced by her spell.
    “I am sorry about my sister,” Leonardo says to me, and I jump, realizing that again, I was lost in thought.
    I’m not sure how to respond, and besides, having him talk directly to me is a bit dizzying; he’s very good-looking, dark and lively and fun, with his sexy stubble and his self-assurance.
Italian boys are as confident as grown-up men
, I think;
English boys are really shy by comparison
. I’m not used to being chatted up by boys this happy in their own skin;
I like you, you like me, maybe we could have some fun together?
says his bright glance, straightforward and utterly charming.
    “She is a
stronza
,” Leonardo’s saying. He grins. “It is a bad word. I don’t know the English.”
    I grin back at him.
    “Well, why is she such a
stronza
?” I ask, making him laugh.
    “Good!” He claps. “You have a good accent! She is a
stronza
,” he says, leaning closer to me, “because she does not like my mother to have the foreigners in the house. She does a cooking course, some yoga courses, it is not just the girls for the summer. But I say, my mother has to
fare soldi
!” Herubs his fingers and thumb together in the universal symbol for money. “It is normal! My father gives my mother Villa Barbiano, but not much money.”
    “Are your parents divorced?” I ask sympathetically.
    But he looks amazed at the question.
    “Oh no!” he says easily. “
Mai
. Never. It is not necessary. He lives in Florence, my mother in Villa Barbiano. But Villa Barbiano, it is expensive. She must have people here to make money. And Elisa is—” He struggles for the word and finally finds it. “Proud,” he concludes triumphantly. “She doesn’t like to have people paying to stay in the house. But, you know, she has her car, her pretty dresses. Nice things. She is okay. So I say to her, she must be nice to the people who come. But she doesn’t like to be nice.”
    I can’t help feeling with a tinge of amusement that it’s easy for Leonardo to say—after all, he has the better side of the bargain. If the house were filled with four foreign guys every summer, he might well be grumpy about it, while Elisa would doubtless be relishing the attention. Still, that doesn’t justify her being a total bitch to us.
    I shrug.
    “We’re not so bad,” I say cheerfully.
    “Oh no!” Leonardo laughs. “Not so bad! You are much better—you are very nice!
Molto bella!
”
    And he picks my hand up from the table and raises it to his lips, kissing it as he kissed Kendra’s when he paid her a similar compliment. I didn’t realize before that he looked straight into her eyes when he did it; wow, it’s absolutely mesmerizing. It makes me feel hot all over. I’m more glad than I can say that I’m sitting down, because honestly Ithink I would go totally weak at the knees and grab at something for support if I were standing up when he pulled this super-seductive move on me.
    Elisa was right about her brother
, I think, having enough experience to recognize when a boy’s flirtation skills are set to automatic pilot. Leonardo isn’t homing in on me with any kind of special interest, he’s just having fun with the girl he happens to be sitting next to at the moment.
Leonardo is a big slut
.
    But I rather like it
.
    Just as I’ve reached that conclusion, and am smiling at my own observation, something happens that is the oddest