The Italian Word for Kisses Read online

  The Italian Word for Kisses

  By Matthew J. Metzger

  Published by Queerteen Press

  Visit queerteen-press.com for more information.

  Copyright 2015 Matthew J. Metzger

  ISBN 9781611528565

  Cover Design: Written Ink Designs | written-ink.com

  Image(s) used under a Standard Royalty-Free License.

  All rights reserved.

  WARNING: This book is not transferable. It is for your own personal use. If it is sold, shared, or given away, it is an infringement of the copyright of this work and violators will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.

  No portion of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the publisher, with the exception of brief excerpts used for the purposes of review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are solely the product of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously, though reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Published in the United States of America. Queerteen Press is an imprint of JMS Books LLC.

  * * * *

  The Italian Word for Kisses

  By Matthew J. Metzger

  Chapter 1: “Who’re you calling Juliet?!”

  Chapter 2: “It was just a stupid accident.”

  Chapter 3: “I need to stay here for a bit, you know?”

  Chapter 4: “Don’t mention it again.”

  Chapter 5: “Kiss me.”

  Chapter 6: “And queer, seriously? Use your fucking imagination.”

  Chapter 7: “I was hoping Christopher had grown out of his…volatile phase.”

  Chapter 8: “No bugger else here thinks like him.”

  Chapter 9: “They don’t take your heart out when you become an adult, you know.”

  Chapter 10: “I have no right to be annoyed about it.”

  Chapter 11: “It’s not a threat, it’s a pillock!”

  Chapter 12: “Don’t let this Jack kid get to you.”

  Chapter 13: “You’ve not come to watch since the accident.”

  Chapter 14: “You’ve not been practising kissing, have you?”

  Chapter 15: “I’m not having some sicko perv on me again.”

  Chapter 16: “So what happened last night anyway?”

  Chapter 17: “Collins at six o’clock.”

  Chapter 18: “You need to get serious.”

  Chapter 19: “I’m not sending him down for something he didn’t do.”

  Chapter 20: “He’s not just, you know, your standard bigot.”

  Chapter 21: “You need fucking help.”

  Chapter 22: “He’s…not very well.”

  Chapter 23: “I want the truth, doctor, what condition is my son in?”

  Chapter 24: “Jack shoved him, and Luca went right over that taxi.”

  Chapter 25: “I love you.”

  Chapter 26: “You don’t remember?”

  Chapter 27: “Luca’s my priority. Always was.”

  Chapter 28: “You’re gonna kill someone, for real, for just being gay.”

  Epilogue: “Baci.”

  Chapter 1: “Who’re you calling Juliet?!”

  Luca was the most beautiful boy in the world. Tav had always known that, long before he ever fell in love with him. Other boys were handsome, or good-looking, or striking, but Luca was beautiful. How could he not be? His father was so clean-cut and strikingly handsome he could have been torn from the recruitment posters for the Royal Air Force during the war, and his mother was an Italian beauty from a picturesque Tuscan village.

  “Oi! Luca! Luca! Oh, for fuck’s sake. Juliet!”

  Luca had the best of both worlds—smooth pale skin that never so much as thought about spots, springy dark curls, huge brown eyes, and a smile that spread slowly and brilliantly like the rising sun over a still ocean. He was tall like his father, slim like his mother, and the kind of beautiful that could only come from two already good-looking people and a whole lot of luck. He was breathtaking. Tav hadn’t waited five minutes between falling in love and making a move, because Luca Giovanni Jensen was not the kind of boy to stay on the market for more than…well, the same five minutes.

  In short, Tav had landed the most beautiful boy in the entire universe—

  “Who’re you calling Juliet?!”

  ―Mostly.

  Tav grinned. “You,” he shouted up to the window, and the glare deepened. “C’mon, Luca! It’s a beautiful morning!”

  “For what?”

  “For a run!”

  Luca shouted something in Italian and slammed the window closed. Tav just laughed. He did this every other Saturday, or thereabouts—stole Luca early in the morning for a quick run, before either of their families were really up and around. Once it had been about stealing time together. And it still felt like it, even though the secret was long since out.

  As the kitchen light came on, Tav grinned to himself. Sometimes—way deep down, when he could forget how upsetting and stressful the secret-keeping and sneaking-around had all been—he missed their secret moments. There had been something exciting about it.

  But then this—going to the back door as Luca opened it, and not saying hello, but cupping that grumpy, affronted face in both hands and planting a kiss on one warm, sleep-flushed cheek—this was way better than keeping secrets.

  “Fuck off.”

  Again, mostly.

  But Luca’s grumpy phases never lasted long, and before long he had been coaxed out of the kitchen, over the garden gate, and into the road. Dawn was only just breaking in the cold depths of November, the sky a steely grey streaked with pale blue fingers of an encroaching morning. The wind—and it was always windy in Sheffield—was like a slap in the face, and Tav loved it.

  “C’mon, Luca!”

  He broke into a sprint by the time they hit the end of the road. They lived just off the edge of Endcliffe Park, and turned left to follow the river up into the foothills of the Peak District. It was lonely this early in the morning; the river gurgled and hissed, and Tav loved to try timing his footsteps with the rush of water. Luca, earphones in, listened to nothing but the steady thuda-thuda-thuda of the bass, and as the river started to narrow into a stream and the houses began to fall away behind them, Tav fell into time with that instead.

  This was where it had all begun. Out here, in the lonely quiet of the early morning, before dog-walkers and joggers could disturb it. When it was so silent they could have been the heroes on The Walking Dead. When it was just them.

  It had been just them then, too, that first run up the valley following the brook. They had run to compete back then—they’d been fourteen and still in fierce competition to beat each other at any sport going—and Luca had tired first. Tav had been too dizzy with excitement at his secret, and he meant to talk. But Luca had grinned at him, flushed and raking in air, and said, “Alright, already, you win. Arse.”

  Tav had kissed him. He had never said the speech he’d prepared. He’d just kissed him.

  “Tree,” Tav said, and nudged Luca in the ribs. Luca laughed, caught his wrist, and twisted in mid-stride to kiss him. It missed, landing clumsily on his chin instead, and Luca’s chuckle was too loud in the wilderness. “Hey! That doesn’t count!”

  “Make me!” Luca challenged, and bolted.

  “Fuck!”

  The run turned into a sprint. Luca was on the school swimming team. Tav did long distance racing, last year right up to county level. And both went to football club. Luca shot through the trees, practically bouncing off the dips and curves in
the path, and Tav lengthened his stride and dropped his breathing. He would win in the long-term. He just had to keep Luca in sight long enough. Luca was fit, but Tav had the endurance—and, frankly, the willpower. He always got a kiss when they came out running. It was their thing. He’d started it, and fuck Luca if he thought he was going to get away with finishing it.

  Sometimes, it seemed like he was always chasing Luca. And it would suck, if not for—

  “C’mere, you dick!”

  ―The fact he always caught him.

  Luca laughed, that pale face lighting up as Tav snagged his elbow and spun him around. The slam into the tree was probably too hard, but his mouth was stretched wide in a smile against Tav’s, and his fingers dug grooves into shoulders.

  “Bully.”

  “I want my kiss right,” Tav breathed.

  “Your what?”

  He was teasing, and Tav had never worked out if Luca was hottest teasing or hottest doing. “My baci.” It was the only word Tav really knew.

  “One bacio or more than one?”

  “Many as I can get.”

  “Which is…?”

  “Baci.”

  “Make me,” Luca whispered again, and Tav grinned.

  “Okay.”

  It was soft, despite Luca’s grip on his shoulders. It was warm, despite the cold. It was familiar, even though it still made Tav curl his toes inside his shoes and there was still that little fumble to get the right angle. It still made Luca hum just the way Tav liked best, and if Tav bit that bottom lip, Luca’s hands would start to creep up his neck to his hair.

  “V’you.”

  The whisper was nearly lost in the rustle of leaves overhead and the low drone of a helicopter somewhere in the slowly dissipating clouds. But Tav heard it anyway, and squeezed his hands at Luca’s sides before peeling himself away and beaming.

  “Race you back.”

  He bolted. Luca’s indignant, “Oi! Prick!” that followed him back down the slope was bellowed and raucous.

  These were Tav’s favourite Saturdays in the world.

  * * * *

  “Eyup, Luca!”

  Luca raised his hand in greeting, squashing the phone between his ear and his shoulder to accept Aaron’s offered hand-clasp-man-hug-thing. It had no name. It was just an Aaron Kowalski thing.

  “Okay, okay. Yeah, I’ll get some at Wilko’s if you want. Okay? Okay. Baci, mamma, ciao.” He clicked off the phone. “Alright, Az?”

  “Livin’,” Aaron said, and grinned. “Hey, I might need to ask a favour of you in a bit. For drama, like.”

  “Okay?”

  “Dunno yet. I’ll let you know. How’s you, anyway?”

  “Fucking cold,” Luca complained as they wandered into Pond’s Forge. It was a vast leisure complex, with an Olympic-sized pool. Heeley was closer to the school and where the whole team lived, but Coach Cooper preferred the facilities at Pond’s Forge for training. “I swear this is Finland, not England.”

  “We’re not all hothouse plants, you dago.”

  “Shut your gob,” Luca said, shoving him in the shoulder. Aaron cackled. “Least I’m not coming over here and stealing jobs, you fucking Polack.”

  “Oi! I’ve never worked a day in my life.”

  “Nah, and it shows!”

  Luca and Aaron went way back, but on a fairly superficial level these days. They’d gone to the same primary school and been best friends in Tadpoles, the under-eights swimming club. Then they’d grown up, Aaron had gotten into girls and acting and the stage, and Luca…hadn’t. They didn’t really see each other too much these days outside of the locker-based banter at school, and Pond’s Forge for the swimming team, but they were still mates.

  Which meant getting all the racist banter out the way before Coach Cooper showed up and did his nut. Guy couldn’t take a joke, seriously.

  “Your Tav not here?”

  “Later. Your Emily?”

  “Later,” Aaron echoed, then shrugged. “I dunno if she’ll be here, like, her nana’s up at the hospital. Looks like she’s on her way out.”

  “Harsh.”

  “I’m happy, mate! Ding dong the witch is dead and all that. Just got to put the face on for Emily, yeah?”

  Luca sniggered as they passed into the changing rooms. A couple of the others were already there—David and Ryan, and a new kid who’d apparently come to live with his aunt and uncle in Totley—and hellos were exchanged before Luca said, “You sure you didn’t bump her off?”

  “Nah, it’d give her too much satisfaction, she hates me.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Emily’s nana is gonna shuffle off the mortal coil.”

  “Snuff it.”

  “Peg it.”

  “Kick the bucket.”

  “Like that song in The Simpsons last night, you see it? About the tree and it got hit by lightning?”

  Luca stripped off his shirt and let the hubbub wash around him. He loved swimming. He was okay at school, and Dad was big on getting him into university somewhere, but in all honesty, Luca just wanted to swim. He’d live in the water if he could. If he found a lamp, right, and there was a genie, he’d wish to become a fish. A shark-type fish, obviously, but a fish all the same. To get to swim around all the time and not have to come up for air, that would be awesome. Maybe he should go to university in Australia and just go diving all the time?

  “Hey, Luca, you hear? Cooper’s decided we’re going in for the Edinburgh competition anyway. How’s your butterfly?”

  “Stings like a bee,” Luca grinned, and got cuffed around the head by Aaron. “Lay off, you perv. Touching me up. I know I’m hot, you don’t have to boost my ego.”

  It was met with general jeers, and the new kid smiled awkwardly, on the edge of the jokes. Luca had to respect him for his skills—guy could get up to a fucking phenomenal speed in the water—but he never said anything.

  “Here,” he said, flicking his towel in the new kid’s direction. “Jack, ent it? Punch Aaron for me when he gets out of his locker.”

  The kid—Jack something—blinked. “Er.”

  “Go on, sock him.”

  The kid shrugged, and obligingly flipped the locker door shut against the back of Aaron’s head.

  “Hey!”

  “Look at that, Az, I don’t even have to cross the fucking room,” Luca jeered, and got shoved on his way to the showers. “Perv!” he yelled over his shoulder.

  The chatter died down a bit in the showers, and started up again as they wandered through to the pool. It was booked out for a bunch of swimming clubs, the little tots in their armbands bobbing around in the kiddie pool, and a few hot blokes and birds bouncing on the diving boards. The girls’ swimming team were doing a relay, almost finished, and Samantha Marks from the end of the road pinked and waved shyly at him where she was waiting for her partner to reach the pool wall.

  “You seriously need to bi the fuck up and hit that,” Aaron advised, and Luca snorted.

  “Yeah, okay. You wanna watch while Tav tortures me to death by reading aloud his shitty books?”

  “Could be worse, he could write shitty emo poetry about you and torture you with that.”

  “Urgh, true. Or he’d just club me to death.”

  “More likely?”

  “Way more likely.”

  The pool was vast and echoing, a rippling invite. Luca practically itched whenever he saw a body of water large enough to swim in, and he gave into it, jumping into the pool with his knees tucked into his chest. The water was a cold shock, and it closed over his head with a clap. As he slowed and the weightlessness in water began to take hold, Luca felt both entirely free, and entirely at peace.

  Then he surfaced, and the world re-intruded. “Watch out, Jensen!”

  Aaron crashed into the water with a whoop, and the floodgates had been opened. Soon, the entire team were in the water, and Luca ducked back under to explore the tiles at the bottom, eyes wide open and smirking at the comical sight of bodies cut o
ff around the nipples. Maybe he should learn to dive—proper dive, like, with the wetsuit.

  A whistle tore through the water, and Luca broke the surface again, shook the water out of his hair, and joined the heads flocking to the edge where the vast bulk of their enormous brick shithouse of a coach, Coach Cooper, loomed.

  “Alright, lads, let’s get this show on the road.”

  * * * *

  “Thanks, Mam!” Tav yelled, slamming the car door and jogging across the car park to the leisure centre. Half an hour until the end of swimming practice. Tav liked to flash his membership card to get poolside—sometimes he’d actually go swimming, too, and Luca would stay a while with him, and sometimes Tav would just sit on the seats that surrounded the water and watch.

  Or perv, as Luca said.

  The pool was busy, but four lanes had been closed off for the club. Tav wasn’t pleased to see Samantha Marks from the end of the road lingering in the public lanes even though the girls’ team had finished practice. She was very obviously watching the boys, but then that was Samantha all over. Tav swore blind she fancied Luca; Luca swore equally blind she was into any gay boy that crossed her path. But then Luca was an oblivious shit at the best of times, so what did he know.

  Luca’s hair was the best part of him—for touching, for toying with, for leading, for soothing him, for riling him up again—but it was even better when he was swimming. It marked him out. Everyone else on the team was either blond, ginger, or had their hair shaved down. So Tav could trace that lean body with his eyes, and settle against the back of the seat to perv in peace.

  Luca had been swimming since before Tav knew him. He’d probably been swimming longer than he’d been walking. And it meant he was cut from a very wiry, powerful cloth. He wasn’t built, but he was scarily fit, and it was just the way Tav liked it. All tight abs and sleek limbs, but no bulk. Swimming—even though Tav wasn’t a huge fan of doing laps in a pool all day—was the best sport ever.

  Especially as swimmers had to be mostly naked. When he’d first developed a crush on Luca, he’d had to stop coming swimming for a while. It had been too risky. And…okay, so they’d been together for nearly six months before Tav could do this again. And even then, if they were going to swim together…it was best to have one off the wrist before leaving home, you know?