“All right,” Neil said after the door jingled behind the last customer. He grabbed his shoulder bag from behind the checkout desk. “Let’s go.”

We made our way to Rigatteria, where there would be more space to spread out and have our lesson. Even walking next to him, I couldn’t bear to look at Neil. It was like God had neatly hidden a secret Ryan Reynolds lookalike in Italy, far away from the tabloids but right before my very hormonal eyes.

“Are you okay?” he asked. “You’re being awfully quiet.”

“Sorry,” I said. “I’m just tired from last night.”

“You’re telling me. I got maybe two hours of sleep,” Neil said.

I tried looking at Neil, but my eyes just leapt over him to the Tiber River. We were crossing the same same bridge over the Tiber River as the night before, the one where those Italian boys heckled us. “I appreciate you doing this,” I said.

“Oh! I wasn’t trying to make you feel bad,” he said. “Trust me, I’m happy to be sleep deprived. We haven’t had a night like that in a long time.”

“Really? I assumed you guys did that all the time.” I kept my eyes focused on the shimmering water. A bunch of food stands and white tents were setting up along the edge of the river.

Neil laughed. “We used to, but then everyone grew up. Became boring. Got boyfriends. I know Francesco and I look like we’re thirty, but trust me, we’re seventy on the inside. Don’t ever get a boyfriend, Amir.”

I rolled my eyes. “What, are you my dad now?”

“Maybe your daddy . . .”

Oh my God.

“Just kidding,” Neil said. “You probably don’t even know what that means.”

“Hey, just because I came out like five seconds ago doesn’t mean I don’t know what a daddy is!” I defended. “I’ve been on the internet. I know who Anderson Cooper is.”

Neil shook his head. Now that we were joking around, I was able to look at him. It was just like when I had cheated in that first un-staring contest with Jackson, when I snuck that first glance.

“Anyway,” Neil continued, “I think this summer will be different, actually. You know Jahan is leaving in a few weeks, that bastard. We’re all devastated. But I can already tell that our friends are more willing to come out, see him, do things, now that it’s our last summer together. Plus, we have Rigatteria. Italians love their rooftops when it’s warm out. You’re catching us at a good time.”

For a moment, I closed my eyes and let myself imagine an entire summer with these people. I drew the picture in my head, and it was a masterpiece.

We arrived at Rigatteria. Neil had a fresh notebook for me, which I felt stupid for not bringing myself. We said “ciao” to Francesco, who was cleaning the rooftop, and found a small cherry desk by the downstairs bar. It was old and lit only by the dim glow of a green desk lamp. Neil started the lesson by teaching me the alphabet and numbers, and eventually we moved on to some basic vocabulary.