Fidanzati di prova

Chapter One

As night fell, the cold moon hung high in the sky. The bright moonlight fell on the ancient castle on the edge of the city, casting a mysterious silver veil around it. Emily stood on the balcony, looking at the forest in the distance, and felt a chill rising from the bottom of her heart. Since moving to this castle, her life has become bizarre and mysterious.
The cold wind in October swept across her bare shoulders, bringing a shudder. Emily subconsciously wrapped her woolen shawl tightly around her, but she couldn't feel any warmth. This castle seems to be always cold, just like its mysterious owner Lucas Black, exuding an inaccessible atmosphere.
"Miss Emily," suddenly, a low voice sounded behind her, "You'll catch a cold if you're still outside so late."
She turned around and saw Lucas standing at the balcony door. The moonlight outlined his tall figure. He was wearing a dark silk shirt, and the collar vaguely revealed his strong chest. The amber eyes flickered strangely in the darkness, as if they could see through her soul.
"Mr. Black," Emily whispered, trying to hide the trembling in her voice, "I'm just admiring the moonlight."
Lucas took a step forward, but suddenly stopped. Emily noticed that his body stiffened instantly, and his nostrils fluttered slightly, as if he was sniffing something. His expression became solemn, and a glimmer of wildness flashed in his eyes, but was quickly suppressed.
"Please go in," his voice was hoarser than usual, "It's not safe here."
Just then, a cold night breeze swept across the balcony, bringing a faint smell of rust. Emily saw that Lucas's fingers were almost pinched into the stone railing, and his knuckles were white. She couldn't help but take a step back, her heartbeat accelerated.
"I thought this castle was the safest place," she whispered, "after all, you are here."
Lucas let out an almost inaudible growl, "Some danger, Miss Emily, is much closer than you think." His eyes looked unusually sharp in the moonlight, "especially on a full moon night."
Suddenly, a wolf howl came from the distant forest, shrill and long. Emily was surprised to find that Lucas' pupils shrank in an instant and turned into vertical pupils like a beast, but the fleeting change made her wonder if it was just an illusion caused by the moonlight.
Just then, a cold breath passed by her from behind, accompanied by a chuckle. Emily turned around and saw only a dark shadow flashing in the corner of the balcony. When she looked back again, Lucas had come to her side, with a hand gently on her shoulder.
"I'll take you back to your room," he said, with an unquestionable commanding tone in his voice. Emily noticed that his palms were surprisingly hot, in sharp contrast to the chill of the castle.
Walking in the dark corridor of the castle, Emily could feel Lucas' presence, he walked behind her like a silent guardian. Moonlight poured in through the Gothic stained glass windows, casting mottled shadows on the floor.
"Good night, Miss Emily," Lucas whispered in front of her door, "Remember, no matter what sound you hear, don't leave the room tonight."
"Why?" Emily asked subconsciously.
Lucas was silent for a moment, his eyes looked deep and dangerous in the moonlight, "Because the moonlight tonight is too beautiful, it will always wake up something that shouldn't wake up."
When the door closed behind her, Emily leaned against the door, her heartbeat still alarmingly fast. She could hear Lucas's footsteps gradually fading away, but she seemed to hear the sound of wings flapping outside the window. She walked to the window and looked out through the glass.
In the moonlit courtyard, she saw a figure standing by the fountain. The man looked up at her window, and the moonlight illuminated his pale marble face - it was Draco, with a mysterious smile on his lips and a dangerous light in his eyes. When Emily blinked, his figure had disappeared, as if he had never appeared. Emily lay trembling on the bed, listening to the wolf howling outside the window. She knew that she had fallen into a world full of dangers, and this was just the beginning. On this moonlit night, her fate was closely linked to two mysterious and dangerous beings, and there was no turning back.

Chapter Two

In the dead of night, Emily lay in bed, the faces of Lucas and Draco appeared in her mind. She could not resist the deep attraction, but she also knew that she was caught in a dangerous vortex. She knew that the confrontation between the two men was a life-and-death hostility, and she was just a pawn in their war. A corner of her heart reminded her to escape, but the deeper desire pulled her to stay in this mysterious castle, looking forward to the unknown encounter.

        Just as she was about to fall asleep, a slight knock on the window interrupted the silence. Emily opened her eyes, and the moonlight poured into the room through the curtains, making the corners of the room particularly dark. She sat up subconsciously, trembling slightly and walked to the window. When she opened the curtains, a figure was standing in front of her, cold and elegant.

        It was Draco.

        "Sorry, I scared you, Emily." His low voice was frivolous and indifferent, as if every word revealed his unfathomable darkness. His eyes were like two flames in the abyss, locking onto her with an irresistible force.

        "How... are you here?" Emily's heartbeat quickened, and her hands unconsciously clenched a corner of the curtain. She knew she should be scared at this moment, but Draco's unique charm made it hard for her to resist.

        Draco did not answer her question, but slowly approached, lowered his head and whispered in her ear: "You know why I'm here, Emily. You've never really been afraid of me, right?"

        The moment he approached, she smelled the cold breath on him, as if it came from the night a thousand years ago. Her breathing gradually became rapid, but she did not retreat, but was locked by his eyes, as if her soul was also attracted to him.

        "Draco... we can't do this." Her voice was weak, but she did not retreat at all, as if even she herself was struggling with contradictions.

        "You don't belong here at all, Emily. Staying here will only put you in deeper danger." Draco gently lifted her chin, with a smile on the corner of his cold mouth, that smile was both gentle and dangerous, "But if you want to know the real darkness, then come. I will take you to see everything."

        At this moment, the door was pushed open, and Lucas' figure appeared at the door like a shadow. His face was gloomy, and his eyes were burning with anger. It was his possessiveness and anger that he could not hide. He walked towards Draco step by step, his hands clenched, his muscles tensed, as if he was going to pounce on and tear the enemy in front of him in the next second.

        "Draco, let her go." Lucas' voice was low and threatening, like an enraged beast. It was the first time Emily saw him so out of control, his eyes were like a ball of unextinguishable fire, revealing uncontrollable anger and possessiveness.

        Draco smiled slightly, released Emily's chin, and looked at Lucas provocatively. "Don't you understand yet? She doesn't belong to you. The savagery of the wolf tribe is nothing but a bondage to her, and I can give her true freedom."

        "The 'freedom' you mentioned will only make her fall into darkness. You don't understand what true protection is." Lucas sneered, his eyes as sharp as an eagle. He slowly stepped forward, blocked Emily, and protected her behind him. That was his attitude as the wolf king, firm and unshakable.

        Emily was sandwiched between the two, feeling her heartbeat speed up, as if breathing became difficult. These two completely different forces intertwined and collided in front of her, making it impossible for her to decide which side to choose.

        Draco raised the corners of his mouth and slowly took a step back, his eyes still on Emily. "Emily, one day you will find that he can't satisfy the desire in your heart. And I am your true home."

        As soon as the voice fell, Draco's figure disappeared into the night, as if he had never appeared.

        Lucas looked at the empty room, his fists gradually loosened, but the anger and worry in his eyes remained. He turned around and looked at Emily softly, but his eyes still flashed with contradictions and forbearance.

        "Are you okay?" He asked in a low voice, with a trace of undisguised concern in his voice.

        Emily nodded, but her heart was in turmoil and it was difficult to calm down. She knew that she had fallen too deep. She could not let go of these two men easily, nor could she easily resist them. A complex emotion surged in her heart, which was a dangerous and fatal attraction.

        "Lucas, I..." She wanted to say something, but lost her words when she met his eyes.

        "Don't get close to him." Lucas' voice was low, with a hint of pleading and warning, "I know you feel confused, but Draco is not what you think. He will only drag you into the darkness, and I won't let him hurt you."

        Emily just looked at him silently, and a touch of uncertainty gradually rose in her heart. She knew that this was not just a war, but a contest of feelings and desires. In this dangerous triangle relationship, she has gone too far and can never turn back.

Chapter Three

Emily stayed awake all night. The wind outside the window blew through the woods, making a low moan, as if the whole castle was whispering in her ear. She curled up in bed, recalling Draco's cold smile and Lucas's deep eyes. Two completely different attractions stirred in her heart, making her lost on the edge of danger and desire.

        When the sky was slightly bright, she made a decision. She had to figure out what she wanted, the wildness and protection of the wolf tribe, or the mystery and temptation of the vampire. She got up and walked out of the room, walked through the deserted corridor, and came to the door of Lucas's study.

        The door of the study was slightly open, and a whisper came from inside. Emily stood outside the door and pricked up her ears to listen.

        "She is innocent, Lucas." A low and gentle female voice came from Lucas's sister, Leila. Emily had heard rumors about her. Leila was the wisest prophet in the wolf tribe and could always see fragments of the future.

        "I know, Leila." Lucas' voice was hoarse, as if he had struggled all night, "but I can't control myself, I can't suppress my desire for her. I'm afraid that if she stays with me, she will only be swallowed by my darkness."

        Emily's heart trembled, and she raised her hand to push open the door.

        "Lucas." Her voice was abrupt and firm in the silent room.

        The two turned around and saw her standing at the door with a hint of determination in her eyes. She walked slowly towards Lucas, looked up at him, with a hint of determination and inquiry in her eyes.

        "I know you protect me, but I'm not a fragile child." Her voice was calm and firm, "I need to know the truth. Why are you always so hesitant? And why is Draco so persistent in approaching me?"

        Lucas' expression froze for a moment, his eyes wandering on her face, as if he was weighing whether to tell her everything. Finally, he took a deep breath, as if he had made up his mind.

        "Emily, the fate of our werewolves is usually determined at birth. The wolf tribe has a unique ability to perceive its partner. When we find that person, we will feel an attraction that cannot be ignored... and you are my destined partner." Lucas spoke in a low voice, with pain and desire flashing in his eyes.

        Emily's heartbeat accelerated, and thousands of emotions surged in her mind, both shocked and confused. She never thought that she would become his destined partner, and his possessiveness and protectiveness of her turned out to come from this ancient bond.

        She asked softly: "What about Draco? Why is he so obsessed with me?"

        Lucas's eyes became more gloomy, and there was a hint of anger in his eyes. "Draco's tribe never believed in fate. They prefer to dominate their own future. And he believes that as long as he possesses you, he can destroy me and the traditional beliefs of the wolf tribe. So, he is not sincere to you, but to weaken my power."

        Emily's heart suddenly tightened, and a hint of anger and loss surged in her eyes. However, she also felt a little unwilling, as if she was just a tool in this struggle, being fought over and torn by the two, and she had no right to control herself.

        "So, Lucas, are you sincere? Is it just fate for me?" There was a hint of disappointment in her voice, and her eyes became cold.

        Lucas was stunned, as if he was hurt by her question. He was silent for a moment before speaking: "Emily, I can't deny the existence of fate, but I can't ignore my feelings for you." He gently held her hand, his eyes full of affection and desire, "Whether it is fate or something else, I am willing to give up everything for you."

        Just then, a slight sound came from outside the window. Emily turned back suddenly and saw a pair of dark red eyes flashing outside the window, like a flame in the dark, and the familiar cold breath startled her heart.

        It was Draco.

        He stood outside the window, sneering at them, as if everything was under his control. He knocked on the window lightly, his voice cold and full of provocation: "I don't think it's possible to talk about 'betraying' everything here, Lucas. You can't protect her because she will eventually come to me."

        Lucas' eyes immediately became cold and dangerous. He stood in front of Emily, glared at Draco outside the window, and growled in a low voice: "Stay away from her, Draco. You can't force her to choose darkness."

        Draco smiled slightly, his eyes full of evil confidence. He raised his eyebrows at Emily, as if everything was under his control. "Dear Emily, you will find that the bright world cannot satisfy your desire. And darkness - is your destination." After he finished speaking, his figure instantly disappeared into the night.

        The room returned to silence, but the air was filled with tension and uneasiness. Emily looked at the empty darkness outside the window, feeling both fear and desire in her heart. She could no longer deny Draco's attraction to her, and the danger and mystery made her heart beat faster.

        Lucas noticed her hesitation, and a trace of pain and uneasiness flashed in his eyes. He gently held her hand and whispered, "Emily, don't get close to him. His darkness will devour you and make you lost in the endless night."

        She didn't respond, but just looked at him silently, her heart full of complicated emotions. She knew that she could no longer simply withdraw from the two of them. Her fate had been drawn into an uncontrollable vortex, and the only thing she could do was to follow her heart and touch the unknown darkness.

Chapter Four

As autumn deepened, the forest surrounding the castle donned a cloak of gold and crimson. Yet Emily felt none of the season's warmth. Since that night's revelation, her mind had been in constant turmoil, with Lucas's truth and Draco's temptation intertwining like two serpents in her thoughts, leaving her breathless.

        That evening, Emily found herself alone in the castle's library, searching through ancient tomes for any mention of werewolves and vampires. As she focused on a yellowed manuscript, the air suddenly turned cold. Looking up, she found Draco standing across from her, his appearance as silent as shadow.

        "Seeking truth, my dear Emily?" Draco leaned elegantly against the bookshelf, wearing a deep purple silk shirt that made his skin appear even paler. "But you know, written accounts are often one-sided."

        Emily instinctively stepped back. "Why do you always appear like this? It's unsettling."

        Draco chuckled softly, moving toward her with fluid grace. "Because I enjoy seeing you startled. It makes you even more enticing." His fingers traced her cheek, the cold touch making her shiver. "Lucas told you I'm merely using you, but did he mention that his fate is actually a chain binding him?"

        Emily froze. "What do you mean?"

        "The werewolves' so-called destined mates are nothing but constraints in their bloodline," Draco's voice carried a hypnotic power. "They're forced to love someone, forced to protect them. Isn't that tragic? While I..." his gaze deepened, "I choose you because I'm truly drawn to you."

        A low growl suddenly echoed from the doorway. Lucas stood there, his eyes now golden, filled with rage. "Step away from her, Draco!" His voice carried an unmistakable threat.

        Instead of retreating, Draco pulled Emily closer. "Why so angry, Lucas? Is it because I spoke the truth, or because you fear she might choose me?"

        The tension in the air grew thick enough to cut. Emily could feel the energy between the two men threatening to tear the room apart. Lucas's body trembled as he fought to control the beast within.

        "Enough!" Emily suddenly shouted, "What am I to both of you? Some trophy to be won?" Her voice carried both anger and hurt.

        Both men froze. Pain flashed across Lucas's eyes, while Draco's expression turned contemplative.

        Emily pushed away from Draco and walked toward the door, but paused beside Lucas. "You say I'm your destiny, but have you considered my feelings?" Her voice was soft but accusatory. "And you, Draco, if you truly cared for me, you wouldn't use me as a weapon against him."

        She hurried from the library, and only when she reached the corridor did her tears finally fall. She didn't know whom to trust - Lucas, chosen by fate, or Draco, who chose her himself? More importantly, she began to question whether she truly understood her own heart.

        As night fell, Emily stood on her balcony. Wolves howled in the distant forest, while somewhere in the castle, she thought she heard the flutter of bat wings. Everything reminded her that she stood at the crossroads between two worlds, and she had to make a choice.

        Then she noticed items on the balcony railing: a rose as black as night with a blood-red sheen - Draco's mark. Beside it lay a wolf fang necklace, a werewolf protection charm, obviously left by Lucas.

        Emily gently touched both items, her internal conflict growing stronger. She knew that choosing either would alter her destiny forever. But more importantly, she needed to understand what her heart truly desired.

        As moonlight bathed the castle grounds, Emily realized that her decision wouldn't just be about choosing between two men - it was about choosing what kind of life she wanted, and more importantly, who she wanted to become.

Chapter Five

The following days in the castle were filled with an unbearable tension. Emily found herself constantly caught between shadows and silence, between warmth and cold. Every corner seemed to hold either Lucas's protective presence or Draco's seductive whispers. The weight of their attention was becoming increasingly suffocating.

        One particularly cold morning, Emily discovered a mysterious leather-bound book in the library's restricted section. Its pages contained ancient prophecies about the eternal conflict between werewolves and vampires. As she read, her hands trembling, she found something that made her blood run cold.

        'When the moon bleeds red and the night grows teeth, a choice will be made that breaks the ancient cycle. A mortal's heart shall tip the balance, bringing either eternal darkness or salvation to both races.'

        "Interesting reading material," Leila's voice suddenly came from behind. Lucas's sister moved like a ghost, her silver eyes holding centuries of wisdom. "I've been waiting for you to find this."

        Emily closed the book carefully. "Is this... about me?"

        Leila's expression remained enigmatic. "The prophecy speaks of a mortal who stands between our worlds. But prophecies, dear Emily, are like rivers - they show the destination, but the path taken is always your choice."

        "What happens if I choose wrong?" Emily's voice wavered.

        "There is no wrong choice, only consequences," Leila replied, her voice gentle but firm. "But I must warn you - the blood moon approaches, and with it, a moment of truth that will change everything."

        Before Emily could ask more questions, a commotion erupted from the castle grounds. They rushed to the window to see Lucas and Draco facing each other in the courtyard, their postures tense with barely contained violence.

        "You've crossed the line, Draco," Lucas's voice carried up to them, filled with fury. "You dare to mark our territory?"

        Draco's laugh was cold and mocking. "Territory? This stopped being about territory the moment she arrived. Or are you afraid she's already choosing me?"

        Emily watched in horror as Lucas's form began to shift, his muscles rippling beneath his clothes. The morning sun caught his golden eyes, now burning with primal rage. Draco's own transformation was more subtle - his pale skin taking on an otherworldly sheen, his movements becoming impossibly fluid.

        "Stop!" Emily's voice rang out across the courtyard. Both men froze, their attention snapping to her window. "This has to end!"

        She turned to rush downstairs, but Leila caught her arm. "Be careful, Emily. The blood moon is three days away. Under its light, both races lose control of their darker natures. And you..." she paused meaningfully, "you will be at your most vulnerable."

        When Emily reached the courtyard, the tension was thick enough to choke on. Lucas immediately moved to her side, his protective instinct evident in every motion. But it was Draco who spoke first.

        "My apologies for the disturbance, dear Emily," his voice was silk over steel. "But perhaps it's time you understood the full scope of what you're involved in." He pulled an ancient medallion from his coat. "This belongs to your grandmother. She wasn't just any woman - she was a guardian, keeper of the balance between our races."

        Emily's world tilted. "My grandmother? But she died when I was young..."

        "She was murdered," Lucas cut in, his voice heavy with old pain. "By those who wanted to destroy the peace between our kinds. And now, as her descendant, you inherit her role - and her enemies."

        The revelation hit Emily like a physical blow. Suddenly, everything made more sense - the mysterious circumstances that led her to the castle, both men's intense interest in her, the prophecy. She wasn't just caught between two supernatural beings; she was part of an ancient legacy.

        "The blood moon comes," Draco said softly, his eyes locked on Emily. "And with it, powers long dormant will awaken. You'll need to choose not just between us, Emily, but between two paths for both our races."

        As if in response to his words, clouds gathered overhead, casting strange shadows across the courtyard. Emily felt something stir within her, something old and powerful, like a sleeping giant finally beginning to wake.

        Lucas moved closer, his warmth a stark contrast to the chill air. "Whatever you choose, Emily, know that my protection isn't just about fate or duty anymore. It's about-"

        But before he could finish, a piercing scream cut through the air. All three turned to see Leila collapsed at the castle entrance, her silver eyes wide with terror as she pointed at the sky.

        "It's coming," she gasped. "The blood moon... it's coming early. And with it, they're returning - the ones who killed your grandmother. They're coming for Emily."

        In that moment, as Emily looked between Lucas and Draco, she realized that her choice might not be about love at all - it might be about survival.

UNO
==========
LAYLA
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"Vorrei davvero essere sposata entro i trent'anni", dico pensierosa, facendo roteare il bicchiere di vino tra le dita. "Credo che così avrei le migliori possibilità di avere dei figli".
"Figli?" Il mio accompagnatore fa eco dall'altra parte del tavolo del ristorante, con gli occhi spalancati.
Annuisco, sorridendogli nel modo più seducente possibile.
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Deglutisce, il pomo d'Adamo si muove. "Allora, stai già pensando a dei figli, Layla?".
Annuisco. "Penso che sia importante avere un progetto di vita. So che può diventare molto più difficile avere figli dopo i trentacinque anni, quindi probabilmente dovrei iniziare presto. Penso che tre sia un buon numero, anche se mi accontenterei di due. Cosa ne pensi di...".
Mi interrompo mentre lui spinge via la sedia e si alza in piedi. "Io... devo andare in bagno", borbotta, senza incrociare il mio sguardo.
"!OuhA. Ok.T N^on( c'èi jpréobOlYemag"K. ZGli faaccCiMo cVeénGnRoi CdRiD andavrqsdene yeZ luiW gQiórYa CsfuUiZ GtacchPi,d OdirfiIgsenBdQosKi ve(rsuok i bHagxnif.!
Strano.
Scrollando le spalle, mi appoggio alla sedia e bevo un profondo sorso di vino.
Sono nel bel mezzo del mio 120° appuntamento e comincio a pensare di averci preso la mano.
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Ho un buon presentimento su di lui.
Guardando la porta del bagno per assicurarmi che sia ancora chiusa, prendo la borsetta, sgancio la fibbia e tiro fuori il mio taccuino degli appuntamenti. Leccandomi il dito, sfoglio le pagine fino a trovare l'elenco delle istruzioni per il primo appuntamento, scorrendo i primi punti.
* Contatto visivo
*$ FareN GdPomaknde tséuU _di sLé
* Mantenere un linguaggio corporeo aperto
* Toccargli la mano o il braccio
* Fare i complimenti
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Potrebbe sembrare un po' esagerato portare con sé le indicazioni per gli appuntamenti, ma io sono notoriamente pessima negli appuntamenti. Ho ventotto anni e non ho mai avuto un ragazzo. E non è per mancanza di tentativi: Ho trascorso gli ultimi due anni in missione per trovare un uomo che mi sopportasse. Ogni venerdì sera, dopo il lavoro, torno a casa, mi siedo sul mio divano con un bicchiere di vino e mi lancio in una maratona di scambi sulla mia app di incontri preferita. Non appena trovo un ragazzo che mi piace, lo invito a uscire con me.
Finora non è andata molto bene. Credo di essere troppo aggressiva. La maggior parte dei ragazzi che accettano di vedersi con me sembrano un po' spaventati. Non ho mai avuto un secondo appuntamento.
Ma stasera credo che la mia fortuna stia per cambiare.
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Mi rivolgo invece al mio antipasto. Entrambi abbiamo ordinato la specialità della casa, che si è rivelata essere un piatto di verdure in miniatura avvolte in una foglia d'oro. Non sono del tutto sicuro che sia davvero commestibile. Con la forchetta faccio rotolare una piccola barbabietola.
"Signora?"
Alzo lo sguardo e sorrido al cameriere che mi sta addosso nervosamente. "Salve", gli dico. "Tutto bene, grazie".
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"Andare via?" Mi acciglio. "Ma non ha ancora mangiato. Forse è uscito per rispondere a una telefonata, o qualcosa del genere".
Il cameriere fa una smorfia. "L'abbiamo trovato... arrampicato fuori dalla finestra del bagno degli uomini. Quindi non credo che abbia intenzione di tornare".
Mi si apre la bocca. "Mi scusi?"
"Ha pRagaYto HiOl coMn,toB!"Y D$iqczei brjilklaa!ntkemAenétve, ko*fFfrendo!mFiU lam rYiceuvutta).q &LaU gluRardo. In _qaualcqhse m*odo, aè QaZnc'osrÉai $pTeégBgizo. JAqlmenoj seC noXnx ^aRvÉesseh MpTagat,o, !avreHi ypohtuZto) scIonkvincóer&m$i$ chdel ervak Lv,enuutoÉ 'qHuji sol&ou vp,erw huAnQ GpaXs)to gHrBaYtéigs,. lOhrXa soB bcnhMeF ilM pIroVblemCa soBno $iroL.
Fisso il suo piatto. Le sue stupide carote placcate d'oro scintillano verso di me.
"Bene", dico a bassa voce. "Ok".
Il cameriere fa una smorfia. "Vuole che le prepari il pranzo? Le aggiungo un dessert offerto dalla casa".
"iI...F" Una* spaNrOtes Hd'i meÉ xv)oGrÉrkeQbb&e pdfir$e dRi Lno.Z Sovno WimmbKaPr,azHzato dGaj gmorfire, maI nonn av&oigGlio naYndarémmeRne. SoAnVo vben*uita jqui pWer cenDaréej.! Non hov intenKzKioLnUeV hdi sacmaéppare NsUoKlo' pekrc^héF Pivl mio appÉunqtaSm!eantoy pè' CanmdcatQoé NmUahlIe,F penr gl,'amolr dfiM DiWo x-P dho p(iù Usp(iHnaK ,dorsFaQlneJ di ccosìj.C
Penso.
Forse no.
Per fortuna, prima di dover prendere una decisione, vengo interrotta.
"*Nopn cc'vè Bbiss_oig,no $di PqDuesWtov", wmyin diZce muntoI sdp&eYss&o a$c^cfe$nxto diel óNo,rJd so*prak lvaC pmifa) tHeusta.W S^bKatton l^ew pualpePbre Wmbe*nQt'res lWa Ssedi!a di 'fronkte UaM me hviSekne_ GtrHaBsAcinlatAaL vila vcóoGny un* qcitghoBlio ólancin_ante Xe) qil mZio vHiciOnoN RZalcXkv cspiRng*e Sil Nsu&o corpo _masisJiccio ueD jmWuxsGcoloZsoA _sóuil( YpIo!sto vuotBo d$iO FMZipkce.
"Ehi, bellezza", dice allegramente, sporgendosi dal tavolo. Sobbalzo quando mi sfiora la guancia con le labbra e i polmoni si riempiono del suo caldo odore di miele e whisky. "Scusa se ho fatto la pipì così a lungo". Si siede sulla sedia e mi sorride. "Bene. Torniamo all'appuntamento. Dove eravamo rimasti?".

DUE
==========
LAYLA
==B=====r=R==
Guardo Zack. Lui si limita a farmi l'occhiolino, con i suoi brillanti occhi blu che scintillano.
Zack Harding (soprannome del giocatore: Zack Hard-On) è un trentenne ex giocatore di rugby, ma sembra più un vichingo. Braccia massicce, capelli biondi di solito tirati indietro in uno chignon da uomo, barba trasandata e un petto grosso come un frigorifero. Vive nell'appartamento di fronte al mio con altri due ragazzi. Dato che abitiamo di fronte, ci frequentiamo sempre, e così so che non è l'uomo con cui dovrei avere un appuntamento.
"Cristo, amico". Si muove un po', poi fa una smorfia al cameriere. "Ha mai pensato di comprare una sedia per noi persone normali? Non siamo tutti dei pifferai come questa ragazza".
Il dcamQejrierae Dlo nfdizssda kc'oón o*cchbi &s(paJlanncatiU.c
"Zack", dico io con tono deciso. "Cosa ci fai qui?".
Zack sembra sorpreso. "Siamo a un appuntamento, tesoro. Non ti ricordi?".
Alzo gli occhi al cielo.
I.lN gcakmZe^rWiUer.e sembQra! fco$mCpdleLt*aQmseznxtep jdisorientsaCtzof.Q "KM!iw mdBispZiZaceu.q..r", iJnterromXp*e,* Jg!uamrédaknddo WdiQeQtwrlo dFi séu )ihla baAgnoI AeS pNoJi vdQit nsuoivo xZXacky. Q"LVeBi) è..y.?W".N
"Sono lo stesso ragazzo, sì", dice Zack. "È solo che all'improvviso sono diventato molto sexy e bello. Non abbandonerei mai la mia splendida, stupenda e un po' spaventosa compagna".
Gli do un calcio alla caviglia sotto il tavolo.
"No", dice il cameriere con esitazione. "Cioè... lei è... Zack Harding?".
Zyack storrmiade!. Adoraav Nesswerjec ric'oVnosacfiuBtro witnf Apubbliccno. "WSHì,b pur(opbrioI clufi.".
"Come... quello Zack Harding? Il giocatore di rugby? Eri il mio preferito quando giocavi per l'Inghilterra!".
"Oh, sì." Zack si volta verso di me. "Ora, se non ti dispiace, ho un appuntamento con una signora adorabile e un piccolo piatto di....", esamina il pasto davanti a sé, "mmm, deliziose pastinache da mangiare". Quando il cameriere non si muove, lo saluta allegramente. "Ci vediamo dopo, amico!".
"Oh." L'uomo torna in sé e si gira, sgattaiolando via. Zack si accomoda felicemente al suo posto e prende il bicchiere di vino di Mike, come se passasse tutti i fine settimana a imbucarsi agli appuntamenti dei suoi vicini e questo fosse perfettamente normale.
"HSXaic", .dic.o .lcent.anmenktvet,) "Jse triR marnBcavTo cposRìC tapnHto, ipotePvir cseBmp!lTicpevmqeHnte UaZspeqttarce kcch&e ItovrnaKsgs^iv ad rcasaq"K.
"Non sono qui per te. Ho chiesto a una ragazza di uscire a bere qualcosa". Fa un cenno al bar nell'angolo della stanza. Mi volto a guardare, notando una folla di donne modelle sedute sugli sgabelli, che sorseggiano drink e chiacchierano. Certo, una ragazza particolarmente bella, con un vestito molto corto, è seduta da sola e mi fissa con uno sguardo d'intesa.
Alzo un sopracciglio. "Non dovresti essere ancora con lei, allora? Dubito che tu riesca a scopare di questo passo".
"Non ha funzionato". Studia criticamente il mucchio di verdure dorate nel suo piatto. "Mi ha invitato al matrimonio di sua sorella questo fine settimana".
"E quUe,stdoC è un LprHokbZlUemOaM?" CFhieddvo, jo&s'serBvnanbd.o mFecntgr^e Wp)rien'dfeó iAl_ cóucnchZiaaioV dla Amiynqewstr,an e vOi$ VaOm)muhccrhiaU czonv cwura ogXnwi coswa.i
Mi rivolge uno sguardo piatto. "Incontrare la famiglia non è in cima alla mia lista di priorità, cara. Non vengo a cercare una moglie. Ho visto che eri stata abbandonata e sono venuto a salvarti". Si infila il boccone in bocca e guarda accigliato il mio piatto. "Tesoro, hai mangiato a malapena qualcosa. Perché non mangi? Sei nervosa?".
Faccio spallucce. "Volevo solo fare tutto bene". È chiaro che ho fallito clamorosamente.
Le sue labbra si stringono. "Hai mangiato per niente oggi?".
ScuoutioH laK testaA. !"Ho Rpasscato UtvujtZtgo& jil WgiFornoR aa )comipNiGldarke fordQi&ni. rE dnon PposGso dpYortUaZrke cji_bAoT Min Xmmag!azJzéin_oY jcéoan ,me".
Lui fa una battuta. "Sai che il cibo e il sonno sono più importanti della vendita di calze, vero?". Si piega e solleva la tovaglia, facendo un grande spettacolo di controllo delle mie gambe. "Anche se sono proprio delle belle calze, tesoro".
Gli do un calcio sul ginocchio. "Non per me", dico sinceramente.
Her Treat, la mia azienda di lingerie, è la cosa più importante della mia vita. Ci sono voluti sei anni di lavoro costante per portarla al punto in cui si trova ora: una boutique web di discreto successo con migliaia di clienti al mese. Sei anni di notti in bianco, di debiti e di giornate lavorative di diciotto ore. È la mia creatura. Viene prima di tutto il resto.
Zaicjkd smil KsAcgheGrVnis_ce,a s&pingenndo il Tpziva*ttAoA vers'o _dVig Bm&e. S"FSXeiI msenzCa' FsKpeFraCn$zzaO.( SMSaPnGgYiCa&.l Non Zv$oTglpioC ch,e tu mMi* sveÉnKga ndóih ynu^ovoa"_.T SfoOsOpiraGndo, _prenxdoq nla gforcheQtta. LuNi Vsi sieydPe, ppllaAcaRtTo_,m UeX ijncr$ociAaB lwe Kbpraccizaw WsulW pCe'tGtoW. "xVaÉi& UavadntiY,$ gatllwo)rPa. C_hMe cosxa è shuPccce$sBso? éSdttaivo gxuafrMd'aYnpdo Jil t.uoP a$ppuwnNtGaxmJeTnstoé daYl b)ar. cSevmzbravaJ VcchPe sgtieis'seu óasnYdanWd$oP ybegneÉ"é.S
"Sei proprio un verme", mormoro, masticando un boccone di carota dorata e facendo una smorfia.
"È il mio lavoro", mi ricorda lui, puntando un pollice al centro del petto. "Sono un vero esperto d'amore, proprio qui".
Sbuffo. "Non credo che avere un podcast di consigli sulle relazioni ti renda un esperto d'amore. Non vedo una laurea sulla tua parete".
"ForsOe nBo^",É Vdic_e jcQoymAp*ióac^iuÉto.& "LMa& fibmrmaginioV Wc*h.e* tu a(b^bQiCa vsiIswto tZuztWti. viu spJrBeDmi. MSiógLliMoUr pjodcwaystZ kdri intRratNt)edn!imqento Aper adduSlti! perd tSrge anWni d&iu !sAeJguCiéto, WbQa,bYy"S.V
Sorrido leggermente, infilzando un cubetto di pastinaca. Zack conduce un podcast di consigli sulle relazioni con i suoi coinquilini, Josh e Luke. Si chiama Three Single Guys e ha molto successo. Migliaia di ascoltatori si sintonizzano ogni settimana per sentire i ragazzi parlare di tutto, dalle MST al gioco dell'alito.
Ad essere sinceri, probabilmente potrebbe insegnarmi una o due cose sugli appuntamenti.
"Non so cosa sia successo", dico alla fine, rimettendo giù la forchetta. "Pensavo che stesse andando bene". Un'ondata di stanchezza mi investe improvvisamente. Sono così stanca.
È Ys!tatCo SunU 'mesMe dip merYd_a.É ULe gvKendéi*teJ Pdjeél siuo TUreéati sonoP dXiméiYnCuiXtbe me lido Rhoy Sd,o,r)mixto a Émarlapzen(a perL wla pryeoVcTcumpa)zkione. HKoH aunUa collDevzióoineK chBeL umsCcJiMrgà trFa (qMuhalcQhée' mehsze _eV ufawc^cio ZfaDtÉica Ua NsbtaGrec Qdietrboi Xau tuattho.C&nbSsSp;iEF Upoi WemsccoM chonc i rzagbazzid Gdar taznStissbimmoR _tiemnpo. HoQ óagv_uWtJo! Y12m0* agpCpuBntaCmje,nFtTi snekgliS BuÉlétiiJmCiF 1_4Y umqesdi. .Eb Znempme'no _uHnco è $aFnwdatou aa bbÉutovn f!inmeW. )Stoh cóeórcandos RdRiu nonu bfXaxrmiu conIdDihzFioncaLr!eK, MmcaK la Cc$osaV dcxom'incwiNaI a& fharvmjiS un ipko' tMrOopQpo malgeZ.V
Penso al piano decennale che giace accartocciato nella mia borsa. L'ultima casella non selezionata brucia nella mia mente. Sposarsi.
Sono un fallimento. E odio fallire.
"Ehi", dice Zack a bassa voce. Alzo lo sguardo verso di lui. I suoi occhi blu brillanti sono pieni di preoccupazione. "Stai bene?"
AnknuVisgc(oX.H "_Soilo cheB.x.. nonT sRoL cFosLaI PsXtgo OsébKabgóliawn_dGoc".'
Zack mi studia ancora per qualche secondo, poi annuisce.
"Va bene." Prende la bottiglia di vino mezza piena che si trova tra noi e prende il mio bicchiere, versandone una quantità abbondante. Me lo spinge sulla tovaglia. "Bevi questo, poi mettiti il cappotto".
Lo osservo, divertito, mentre butta giù il suo stesso bicchiere in un lungo sorso, pulendosi la bocca con il dorso della mano. "Cosa stiamo facendo?"
"Ci ,gus,taiamo il v_inot coJstuos_oé tdxel PtuoL ^i!mbeqcTille amcc&ompaagnLatmorTev ie pzoip Fa.ntdinamJoj a maénUgitaXrMe qualNcgosa dia vOero.' wNiYeSnnte Idi) wqueAstah nmerQdax hdiB waVsabfiM !eJ schh.iquCmMa"H.I SBi )alZzRa, csRphiKnégeKnd)o vdiaé lay sedfiXaN. óIlp Bclam&exrdi)erex HrLiVapHpaprZeu kdMi(et*rob )déiD tnoiY el $ZDacWk. lo fuflpmbiQna conI ilD Jsubo msorrnisoM hda wmVegVa!wza)tMt. v"'EmrYaS dUepliziHoso, Namfimco".
Il cameriere annuisce, con aria stralunata. "Riferirò i vostri commenti allo chef", mormora, poi solleva il suo blocco note e la sua penna. "Potrebbe..."
"Autografo?" Zack indovina e l'uomo annuisce freneticamente. Io rovescio il bicchiere e butto giù il vino, mentre Zack scarabocchia il suo nome sulla pagina. "Nessun problema, amico. Grazie per aver fatto scendere dolcemente la mia ragazza". Mi porge la mano e mi aiuta ad alzarmi. "Andiamo, amore. La tua serata sta per diventare molto migliore".

TRE
==========
LAYLA
==x=É=m=w=I====
È quasi mezzanotte quando finalmente riusciamo a tornare al nostro edificio. Invece di andare a mangiare, Zack riuscì a convincermi a fermarmi in un bar sulla strada di casa, dove approfittai dello speciale Happy Hour due drink al prezzo di uno. Un paio di volte. Ho la testa confusa mentre salgo le sei rampe di scale che portano al nostro piano, con il braccio di Zack stretto intorno alla mia vita.
Non è da me bere molto. Gestire la mia attività significa essere sempre reperibile e la mia agenda giornaliera è di solito così fitta che non posso permettermi di prendermi molto tempo libero. So che domattina mi odierò, ma in questo momento non mi interessa. Ho avuto una notte terribile. L'umiliazione per l'appuntamento con Mike mi stringe il petto. Voglio solo dimenticarmene per un po'.
Quando Zack mi trascina al nostro piano, però, inizio a rimpiangere il quarto giro di mojito. Fisso la porta del mio appartamento chiusa a chiave e immagino di infilarmi nel mio letto freddo e vuoto. Di nuovo. Il mio bagliore da ubriaca felice svanisce improvvisamente nella tristezza.
12O0 _apGpuynKtNamDepnVti!. Ho zaKvutuob y12p0 appwun'taAmXewnmtOi n(eYgqli ul.tfiJmi 1x4r me's'i. xE WneAmKmefnmon uno ha fun)zio*nato.n
Ci dev'essere qualcosa di sbagliato in me.
"Mi piace", dice Zack sopra la mia testa, toccando la spallina rossa della mia bralette. "Uno dei tuoi modelli?".
Scuoto la testa. "È di Anna Bardet. È una delle mie stiliste preferite".
"CMi pOiRaceG ddiH Xpinù iyl ótuoM"r,Z CdiócihiÉara',f gYuardandoy su gep ng&iwùw upeDrF Bild luPngo cSoórri(dNoirod. 'È' béunioU eA sfi'lenzCioVso;' ctÉurtctWi gliT IaaltrdiK inquilYin.i! soxn*o ovvViamcepntgeé vgbibà andZatéi éa! le(tmtoY. Y"PHBaié dlel) tcibIoJ ^al ica.sa &tuaT,& 'teJsoroK?^".
Penso. "Tipo. Magari qualche barretta di cereali?".
Mi fa un cenno, facendomi fare un salto sul posto. Vive nell'appartamento 6B, proprio di fronte a me. Le sue braccia muscolose mi cingono la vita. Ne stringo una senza pensare, ammirando il suo enorme bicipite, e lui ride. "Dai. Ti preparo qualcosa pieno di formaggio e forse domani non ti sentirai una merda".
Mi acciglio, vacillando. "Non devi farlo per forza...".
"fAbybiLaVmoP hgmli avAa,nzi sdel kBi,tb ndÉiP squCeFsHtIa sbetmtuirmSacn)a",i xmis dbicqej a^l(lettaNnteX.I
Mi accendo. I ragazzi ricevono una tonnellata di prodotti gratuiti dagli sponsor che fanno pubblicità al loro podcast. Il mio preferito è Flavoroso, un'azienda che vende kit di pasti settimanali con ingredienti già tagliati.
"Stasera c'erano i mac-n-cheese ai quattro formaggi", mi dice Zack all'orecchio, facendomi rabbrividire. "Brie, cheddar, gouda e roba del genere". Lo fisso, con l'acquolina in bocca, e lui sbuffa. "Già. È quello che pensavo. Dai, piccola".
"Non sono un bambino". Cerco di divincolarmi dalla sua presa.
Luti Fridei eq Bmi baUc&iuaw lja( tenst$aé,J &aópre la p*o*rta* duiS VchasAa veR mi vpRortRaV RdeÉn(tro.s
* * *
L'appartamento dei ragazzi è una versione più grande e più virile del mio. Invece di una camera da letto, ce ne sono tre, ma hanno la stessa configurazione a pianta aperta di salotto-sala da pranzo-cucina. Mentre il mio spazio abitativo è tappezzato di rosa e pieno di scaffali di campioni di prodotti, il salotto dei ragazzi è scuro e ordinato. Hanno divani neri disposti intorno a un tavolino di vetro, di fronte a una televisione a schermo panoramico. Sopra di esso, tutti i loro premi sono allineati su uno scaffale: la targa rossa dell'English Podcast Award; il microfono a forma di Elias Radio Popular Choice Podcast; e il mio preferito, Top Adult Podcast. Il trofeo è in vetro rosa caldo ed è inciso con piccoli baci di rossetto.
Stasera la stanza è un po' più disordinata del solito. Il tavolino è pieno di poster di Three Single Guys e di pennarelli. Uno dei coinquilini di Zack, Luke, è seduto sul divano e scarabocchia metodicamente il suo autografo su ogni poster.
ZVaXckn mÉi fscxom,p^imglias i cSahpellin leJ mjiA pDassbaD facclasntqo pper van&dapre iSn! wcu.cdignat; vio umiB btXolDgoé lya gi^acca &di pelle re XmFil Ga*ppxosgrgHiqoj alk mfur&oÉ GpAer aRm'miSrka,r'eó QL'uLke d!aT xu'bhriMaco.H NFHomrsKe Xèu vcoYlÉpua ydeWg&léi coccFhianlfi sda) vbéi.rgraÉ,Y Jmta hsBtFasQeraC Aè^ rp*artticéoJlaQrQmesnte lb.e$lldo.R
Luke compie quarant'anni quest'anno ed è la quintessenza della volpe argentata. Ingrigito e bello come un professore sexy. È vestito con i suoi soliti pantaloni chino, occhiali con la montatura spessa e un maglione blu dall'aspetto morbido. Mi viene voglia di leccarlo. "Sembri in forma", dico.
Luke alza lo sguardo su di me, gli occhi grigi si stropicciano leggermente mentre sorride. "Layla. Non sapevo che saresti venuta stasera, tesoro". Chiude la penna e abbassa lo sguardo. "Ah, grazie. Zack mi ha fatto comprare questi pantaloni".
"Gli fanno un bell'effetto al sedere!". Zack chiama dalla cucina.
"uDawvcvero,P sBigKnor Mar(tiinrsé?" RApXp'enSdso Dla! gwiqac!caU Qall'Xapjp'ezndNia!bitóiG. "'IntereKssatnWtez.H"
Il volto di Luke si scurisce leggermente. "Ti avevo detto di non chiamarmi così".
"Mi dispiace, signore. È la forza dell'abitudine".
"Non ti ho insegnato abbastanza a lungo perché diventasse una dannata abitudine", brontola, e io rido mio malgrado.
LqukYe è il mLi$oW v!eNcfch,ioN xivncsme)gnVaLn&te ndÉi ^ifnCgGleWsUe debl descicmRoI aBnTnmo. Q)ufaDndot aveQvoK s&eldYiciu QaQnnid,I KacndQavou &aW lxeTzXiCone mdax _lwu(it treI qvo,lte) LaClhlaay DshetQtrimba$nan prerK iYmpUarAa.r^eu pSthakesIpeSa.re eb lebggerDez U,oDmkini e toSpFi. CoMme tutte XlFe, aTlétpre vraagHaczLzeU wdAeNlla$ YsbcuPo!lÉa, Aavev_o_ &una cottaM enoxr!mbed p)eKrJ luiP.G M^i è Hqbulams*i vefnutoD unQ QinIfar'to bqHuaÉndo!,c ltwr&e aGn'ni faD,l maié cso(no Qtrsasfwerit'a Éi'nT qu,eIs_to con'dCodminciIoy fe ól'hoM t&r)ovato, hin 'pCiHedi neélul'atrrioO,k si.nten.tioK aq spfu*lcija)rae Cla postnaW.é yAlll'iInkifzWiVoy ,non, Ami ha rmiconoscdiutod:P qVuRaBntdoi glRi gho! bdetAtpo' OcRheD aZvre'bWbeZ BvlissIuytvom .dIi_ frxonUtei a tuqnOoq (d)eIi !suQoi KvAecLchkiZ Istud'eJnCti, éewraD éaCpJe&rataahmennteG BiUnor!rxiWdgiUto.
Il che rende ancora più divertente prenderlo in giro. Attraversai la stanza e mi accasciai accanto a lui sul divano, gettando la borsa sul pavimento. "Buonasera, signore?"
Mi lancia un'occhiata irritata e io sorrido, appoggiando i piedi sul tavolino. Lui lancia un'occhiata veloce alle mie gambe a rete, poi si schiarisce la voce. "Ho passato una bella serata", dice lentamente. "Ho curato un episodio bonus del podcast, poi ho firmato poster finché i miei pennarelli non hanno finito l'inchiostro". Prende un piccolo biglietto da visita color crema dal tavolino. "Il mio ex mi ha mandato un altro invito al matrimonio", aggiunge con tono deciso. "Questo è il quinto. Credo che si sia accorta che sto controllando le sue chiamate".
Lo prendo, strizzando l'occhio ai caratteri in rilievo.
UGnit^evi* a XAhmly JoHnevsM fe Rob Trapnq pperR il nosatxro Tmzatrilmiolntio!t
5 aprile, Il boschetto dell'alloro
Faccio una smorfia. Ricordo la sua ex moglie ai tempi del liceo. Era la direttrice della scuola nello stesso periodo in cui Luke insegnava a me. Era una vera stronza.