But I might as well have stopped. After all, his legs were much longer than mine. I ought to have remembered that. Hadn't I stared at them often enough?

“Angela.” His voice, softer, but also tenser now, came from right behind me. Sighing and screwing up my courage, I stopped and turned slowly around. There he was, standing before me, looking like he had just sprung from the pages of a Gucci catalog for casual wear. He was at least two heads taller than me, and I had to bend uncomfortably to look up into his face. Not that I would have minded. I would have done anything to be able to look at his face – if the sight had given me anything but pain.

“What is it, Giacomo?” I asked, and was surprised at how tired and weak my own voice sounded.

“You... you dropped this the other day.” He held out his hand. On his open palm lay a slender silver ring. “When you... ran into me.”

“Oh.” My right hand reached for my left, not finding the ring on its accustomed place. No wonder I hadn't noticed its absence – my subconscious had probably been so relieved it was gone that it had done everything in its power to prevent that.

Tentatively, I reached out for the ring. When I was just about to take it from his hand, he closed his fingers around mine and held my hand. I didn't move an inch.

“I just wanted to give it back to you,” he said, taking a deep breath. “And... and I wanted to apologize.”

Apologize? For what? His behavior over the last few days? That was certainly something he should apologize for. But whatever it was he wanted to say, I didn't want to hear it. In his eyes, I saw only cold, hard determination, nothing more. I knew that he hadn't changed his mind. Whatever he was going to say, it could only bring me more pain.

Hastily, I tried to pull away.

“No, Giacomo, it's all right, whatever it...”

“No!” His voice was almost a snarl. “It was not all right. What I did was wrong. Profoundly wrong. I... do not pretend to approve of your parents giving you away at such an early age. In my opinion, you are much to young to make such a big step in life. But that doesn't make my attempt to defile your honor any less despicable. Quite the contrary, in fact. To do what I did to someone as young and innocent as you... that was the act of a figlio di puttana!”

I blinked up at him. Whatever I had been about to say to him was wiped clean from my mind. What the hell was he talking about? My parents giving me away? As far as I heard, I wasn't up for adoption. Not that I didn't think Cathy hadn't wished for that often enough. But when I had come home with the third F in a row, my mother had always found a kind word for me. She would never consider getting rid of me. Somehow, though, I didn't think that was what he meant.

“It only remains for me,” he continued gravely, “to offer you my sincerest apologies once again, and wish you all the happiness in the world. If I may ask... who is the lucky man?”

If I'd hoped his next words would make sense of his rambling speech, I was sorely disappointed.

“What lucky man?” Staring up at him, my brow furrowed. For once, I was actually too puzzled to feel pain at the sight.

He let go of my hand and nodded to the ring, as I slid it back onto my finger.

“The lucky man, of course – the one you're betrothed to.”

Were my ears working right? Or perhaps I had gotten the word wrong. Betrothed? I only knew it from history lessons, and that meant my memory probably wasn't all that reliable.

“Betrothed?” I echoed. “You mean... engaged? Me? Engaged?”

“Yes, of course.” Now his brow were furrowed, his teeth clenched. “Who is it?”

I stared down at the ring. It was slender, silver and unadorned. It looked like any other ring. If one hadn't read the word 'purity' engraved on the inner hoop, and if one came from Europe and had no idea of American customs, and if one also happened to be considerably screwed up in the head, one could just mistake it for another kind of ring.

I cracked up. It wasn't my fault, okay? I just couldn't help it. Tears ran from my eyes, and for the first time in days, they were tears of mirth.

“This... this isn't an engagement ring,” I wheezed between giggles.

“It isn't?”

“Of course not, you idiot! This is the twenty-first century! Is there such a thing as an engagement any more?”

“There is where I come from,” he said, quite adoringly indignant, I thought.

I had to use the wall as support, otherwise I would have fallen over. “At fourteen? Come on, you blockhead! I'm fourteen years old!”

“I am perfectly aware of that,” he said, darkly. Then his voice suddenly became curious. “If you don't mind me asking...” He hesitated.

“Go ahead,” I giggled. “Ask.”

“If this isn't an engagement ring – what sort of ring is it?”

“A promise ring, of course!”

“Promise? Promise to do what?”

I lost my hold on the wall and keeled over, laughing.

“Angela! Angela, what is the matter with you?”

“N- nothing. I just didn't think that nobody explained that subject to you before....” I snorted with laughter and buried my face in my arms.

“Angela? Angela, will you stop laughing and listen to me! Forget the ring! I still have to talk to you! I still have to apologize.”

When I didn't react but kept rolling on the floor, he bent down, gripped me by the shoulders and pulled me to my feet as if I weighed no more than a feather. I was sorry that he'd done so, very sorry. If he hadn't disturbed me, I might have been able to enjoy the sound of my own laughter for a few more minutes, and not be reminded that in essence, nothing had changed. Because he still was looking at me with the same furious determination. I tried to blink away the tears which suddenly were flowing again for a different reason.

“I'm listening,” I said in a hoarse voice.

He stared into my eyes with an earnestness that made me quiver.

“What I did was unforgivable,” he whispered. “Whether you are promised to another or not, you are still so young, so innocent – it was unforgivable! But still, I have to beg for your forgiveness. I can't live without it.”

“Forgiveness?” The tears were coming more quickly now. “Giacomo, what are you talking about? Forgiveness for what?”

“For... for kissing you.” He closed his eyes and ducked his head, as if he expected to be punched. “I kissed you, and I know it was wrong. I know I should never have done it, Angela. Whether you are promised to someone else or not, I knew I wasn't right for you, I knew you couldn't possibly...” he broke off and swallowed. “Well, it was wrong, and I apologize. Please – will you forgive me?”

He kept rambling on like that, but I didn't hear much of it. What I did hear sounded mostly like senseless babble anyway. The only words I had really heard kept repeating themselves in my mind, blocking everything else.

I kissed you. I kissed you. I kissed you.

He had kissed me? I replayed the fateful evening in my mind. It wasn't hard. Every minute out at the lake was etched into my memory forever. At the time, it had seemed to me as if he was leaning towards me, as if he wanted what I wanted. Later, I had been forced to dismiss that as nothing more than wishful thinking. And now, three simple words had turned my world upside down: I kissed you. Had he really wanted it? But then... that could only mean...

“Giacomo?” I said, my voice sounding as if it came from very, very far away.

I felt rather strange. A feeling floated through me that I had almost forgotten over the past days. It wasn't happiness. No, I hadn't gotten to that yet. It was almost better than happiness. It was hope.

Giacomo was still babbling, talking about how sorry he was for kissing me, his eyes closed. At my words, he opened his eyes again and stared down at me, a tortured look in his intense light brown eyes.

“Yes, Angela?”

“Will you do me a favor?”

“Anything.”

“Good. Then shut up.”

I threw my arms around his neck, pulled myself up and then... then my lips locked with his. Immediately, he was pushing me back – and kissing me back. I could feel it. Waves of pleasure rippled through me as his full lips massaged my little rosebud of a mouth. Groaning, he finally pulled his head away. I was panting, and so, I noticed to my infinite delight, was he.

“Stop,” he managed to get out. “Don't do that! Don't ever do that again, Angela, do you hear me? This is wrong!”

“You stupid fool! I'm not engaged! Didn't you hear me?”

“It is still wrong! Utterly wrong!”

His every word sliced into me like a red hot knife, wounding my soul. But I clung to my determination, clung to my hope.

“It felt right to me.” My voice was no more than a whisper, weak with suspense. I knew that on his next words depended my very life. “But of course if you... if you didn't... well then I won't...” I couldn't bring myself to finish the sentence. Instead, I tried to turn away. But before I had moved as much as an inch, he had gripped my shoulders. I turned to face him again.

“That's not what I meant,” he said, and I was thrilled to hear the desperation in his sonorous voice. Was it possible that he really... “It's not that I wouldn't like to...” He was stammering, hardly getting out a coherent word. O my god, yes! My heart was beating like a jackhammer. “Angela, you... I … I would like to...” He took a deep breath. “But this... it doesn't feel right.”

“It felt right to me,” I repeated, looking up at him with moisture in my eyes. His jaw muscles twitched.

“Angela, I'm...” He hesitated. “I'm 4 years older than you. I'm homeless, unemployed.” Strange. Why had I the distinct Impression that he had wanted to say something else? “I'm trash, plain and simple. You don't want to get mixed up with someone like me, understand? Do you understand? It would be a catastrophe, it would destroy your life.” His warm brown eyes were boring into me, trying to make me accept the inevitable. “It wouldn't be right for me to... to want you to...”

I leaned forward a bit more, my face turned upwards, and his strong hands, still on my shoulders, didn't try to stop me.

“It felt right to me,” I repeated again. My face was just inches away from his now. I could see the emotions warring in his warm, soulful eyes. Anger, need, despair, and maybe, maybe something more...

Somewhere, a small part of me laughed at the irony, realizing that without the stupid promise ring, none of this would actually be happening!

“Mia Angela,” he whispered. “My Angel...”

Then his lips were on mine again. 'Yes,' was my last thought, 'it does feel right.' And this time, he didn't protest.

<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

On the way home, I scraped together my last bit of money and bought myself a book called 'Love Prevails'. It had a very nice-looking cover. The contents turned out to be equally interesting. According to the blurb, here were a lot of misunderstandings, betrayals, separations, fornications and a very, very good happy ending. So I'm sure you understand that it took me a bit longer than usual to get home. When I finally arrived, the first thing I did was go up to my mother and hug her fiercely.

“Angela,” she wheezed, hardly able to breath. “What...”

“Thank you,” I gushed, holding up my finger with the promise ring on it. “Thank you so much for giving me this! It was the best Idea you ever had!”

“Honey... I'm glad you think so, but your dad and I gave you that 4 years ago.”

“Really? That long? Well... I guess it just needed time to sink it, that's all. Thanks again!”

I squeezed her one final time and then ran up the stairs to my room to dance. Not to any particular rhythm or music, like I'd always dreamed of, no. Just to dance – with joy. Giacomo had kissed me. Giacomo had kissed me.

Not until much later, when I lay in bed, still too hyped to fall asleep, did I realize that this wasn't exactly true. I had kissed him. There was a difference. A terrible difference. In my mind, I heard his words again: “This is wrong...” I saw again the desperation in his eyes and wondered what might possibly be the reason for it. And just like that, fear crept back into my heart, where it joined with longing. It was going to be a very long night.

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So, now for my author's note! I just wanted to take this opportunity to confirm that I am, in fact, a guy. One of my readers asked me whether I was really a teenage girl, and  I thought after this chapter this rumor would spread ;)

Guys do write romance. If they're a little crazy, like me :D :D

Cheers

Robert (not Roberta!)