He stood in front of the door, willing his breath to steady. His fingers hovered mid-air, clenched, then relaxed again.
He wasn't ready.
And yet, he knocked.
"Come in..." Salomé called from the other side.
Just the sound of her voice sent a current through him. His breath caught, erratic again.
Breathe.
He inhaled, exhaled, then slowly creaked the door open.
Salomé was lying on her stomach on the bed, deeply engrossed in her book, her legs bent at the knees and flailing lazily in the air.
She looked up and startled at the sight of him standing there.
Her eyes widened. She slammed the book shut and scrambled to sit upright.
"Uhm... hi? What are you doing here?" she asked, trying to sound casual, but her tone betrayed her surprise.
"Please, sit." She motioned to the only sofa in the room.
"I'm good right here," Giovanni replied, his voice stiff, hands clasped behind his back.
"Not like I expected you to agree anyway." She muttered the words more to herself, idly tugging on a loose thread from the pillow resting in her lap.
He cleared his throat. "You… we're going to attend college in Italy."
Salomé let out a deep sigh, her shoulders sagging. "I know. Dad's been hinting at it ever since we got here." Her voice carried a hint of frustration, resignation layered beneath it.
"Ughh… Isabelle's going to be furious. I promised we'd go to college together. I didn't even get to—"
She paused. His words finally caught up to her.
"Hold on… did you say we? Like… me and you? Together?"
"That's right." Giovanni confirmed flatly. He didn't explain and turned slightly to leave.
Salomé shot up from the bed and appeared in front of the door as though she'd teleported. She blocked his path, eyes wide with intensity, her arms spread.
"Stop. This instant!" she said, voice firm and commanding.
Giovanni's composed expression wavered. The corners of his lips twitched in amusement.
Her fierce defiance was unexpectedly adorable. For a moment, his cold exterior cracked—but he quickly pulled it back into place.
"Are you mad at me or something?" Salomé blurted. "First, you ditch me mid-conversation, leave me wondering if I said something wrong. I mean—was that fair? Is wanting to be your friend really so offensive? I'm not awful. I'm fun. I know how to respect boundaries. Clearly, you've got lots of those."
Her words poured out in a breathless stream. "If you're about to say you don't want anything to do with me, that's fine. I'll back off. I'll stay so far from you that—"
"Shh."
He gently pressed a finger to her lips. His ocean-blue eyes bore into her warm brown ones.
Time stilled.
"Salomé, speaking like this... hell, just the sound of your voice... makes me think forbidden thoughts," he murmured, voice low and husky. "It makes me want things I know I shouldn't. So please..."
Salomé's breath caught. Her eyes searched his face, her chest rising and falling with quiet, startled emotion. Slowly, she reached up and held his hand, lowering it from her lips.
"Okay..." she whispered.
She drifted away from the door, her feet carrying her back to the bed like she wasn't fully conscious of the movement. She collapsed onto the sheets, curling slightly into herself.
Giovanni shut his eyes and sighed—soft, resigned. Then, without another word or glance, he turned and slipped out, quietly shutting the door behind him.
The moment the latch clicked, Salomé's composure cracked.
She bolted upright, her thoughts a whirlwind of desire, confusion, and disbelief.
Her thoughts spun, wild and loud. Her cheeks flamed. How could he say those things without blinking? What did he mean by forbidden thoughts?
She began to pace, barefoot, the soft carpet muffling each step.
"Does Giovanni... like me?" she whispered aloud.
The idea sent a shiver down her spine.
He's always so cold, so distant. He can't possibly—
But doubt crept in.
What if he does?
"He said my name," she whispered, touching her lips like she could still feel the weight of his finger there.