She’d emailed me a few more times overnight, but I didn’t read them. Instead, I munched on a few crackers—which were really helping with my stomach flu—and sat back on my fluffy pillows with a paperback cracked open. In the last hour I’d only managed to scan half a page, but I’d heard that literacy tends to come and go in adulthood. I wasn’t worried.
Another email from Andie pinged on my laptop and I read the subject line:
PEE ON A STICK, YOU STUBBORN IDIOT.
See what I mean? Shockingly unstable, that one.
Still, she might have had a point. I had literally bought out the village’s supply of pregnancy tests. I could have sat outside the lone pharmacy, waiting for a couple to go rushing in, then price-gouged them on their way out. Since I owned a monopoly, I figured it wouldn’t hurt my position to get rid of one or two.
I thought I really might take one then. I opened my bedside table and reached for the pink and white box, but then I heard footsteps in the common room and Gianluca’s voice filled the bed and breakfast.
“Georgie?”
Oh god.
I slammed the drawer closed and jumped up to conceal it. Gianluca opened the door after a gentle knock and I feigned a big, easy smile.
“HEY-OOO there.”
He furrowed his brows, clearly suspicious. “Wow. Hi.”
“Hello again.”
He laughed and shook his head. “What are you doing in here?”
At once, both of our gazes fell to the open crackers sitting on my bed.
“Are you feeling all right?”
“Yes. I was just reading…and I wanted a snack.”
It was the truth, technically.
“Right well, c’mon. I’ve got something to show you.”
I frowned. “Where? Honestly, I’ve got to stay here and…”
He shook his head and reached out for my hand, all but dragging me from my room. My stomach flu had flared up earlier, but the crackers had settled my stomach for the moment; I just had to hope they would last for a while.
Massimo and Katerina were waiting for us outside. I hadn’t seen Katerina since our blowup on the mountain, but one look at her told me she wanted to make up. I didn’t lay into her—I regretted the way I’d shouted at her as well—and without a word, I stepped right up to her and held out my hand for her to shake.
“Truce?”
She grinned, bloody relieved, and pulled me into a hug. “Truce.”
“Sorry I was an utter cow. Pun intended.”
“That makes two of us.”
“Well that was fast.” Massimo laughed. “I thought we’d be standing here for at least a half hour while you two had another go at one each other.”
“We’re very ma-tour,” Katerina laughed, looping her arm through mine and tugging me into the square.
Everyone seemed to know our destination but me.
“Where are we going?”
“To finish that hike we started a few days ago.”
Oh, murder me. They expected me to climb mountains in my state?
“Let me at least go change into some proper shoes.”
Katerina shook her head and kept walking, forcing me toward the train station. We hopped on and headed toward Manarola. Out of the five villages in Cinque Terre, I’d spent the least amount of time there, hardly any at all, in fact. It was where I’d stormed off the other day, so I was familiar with the train station, but the group led me down a stone path toward the sea.
I was concerned about my sandals and sundress, but I looked around and noticed no one else had their hiking gear on either. Gianluca was wearing shorts and a white linen shirt. Katerina carried a hefty straw bag stuffed to the brim with what looked to be beach towels.
We continued down the stone path until we arrived in the center of Manarola, an area I’d never ventured to before. There were pastel buildings and restaurants bustling with tourists, but unlike Vernazza, Manarola was positioned high up on cliffs, giving us a spectacular view of the surrounding sea. Tourists were crowded at the iron railing at the edge of the main square, posing for photos and dipping over the edge to look down. That’s where Katerina dragged me, right to the edge. I looked down and gasped.
There was a massive, naturally formed swimming grotto just below. Crystal clear water surrounded a jagged central rock formation that children were climbing on and then jumping off of. A few fish darted around the edges, staying out of the way of the swimmers. Sunbathers relaxed around the grotto, making use of the smooth granite rocks, worn down from use over the years.
“Are we going down there?”
Gianluca had come up behind me, boxing me in against the railing. “We’re going to swim.”
“I didn’t bring my suit.”
“I know.”
They told me it was a rite of passage to take a hike from Riomaggiore to Manarola, strip off your sweaty clothes, and jump into the water as a reward for all your hard work. Since I’d stormed off the other day, we hadn’t had the chance.
Now, we were going to make up for it.
Gianluca led me down a steep staircase cut out of the granite rock. We carved out a bit of space for ourselves, sliding out of our shoes. The boys tugged off their shirts and I glanced up, aware of all the tourists watching us. I had on a pair of blue underwear and a matching bra, nothing more scandalous than the majority of the bathing suits I’d seen in Italy, but I still felt self-conscious tugging my sundress overhead.
Massimo was already in his skivvies, about to jump into the water. Katerina had stripped off her clothes and was folding them beside her beach bag.