I enjoyed his sense of humor—it was clever. “Agreed. I guess you wouldn’t consider The Art of the Deal a true self-help, then?”

He burst out in laughter. “Damn, you’re funny. Are you sure you’re still in high school? Or did you skip a grade?”

I tried not to blush. I never thought of myself as witty before, but a guy had never brought out that particular part of my personality. “Nah, I just like joking around. Are you looking forward to Capri?”

“Yeah, heard it’s beautiful, especially the Blue Grotto. Not looking forward to the death-cliff drive, though. I’m a bit afraid of heights.”

“I’ll try to distract you.”

“Thanks, but I already brought my rosary beads. Figured I’d go straight to the source for comfort.”

I shifted in my seat and gave in to my curiosity. “You’re really religious, huh? I mean, I’m just asking, not judging. I saw you in church praying, and the comments you’ve made and stuff.” I hoped my tongue wasn’t tangling over itself in ignorance, but he seemed chill and smiled at me.

“No, you can ask me anything you want. It’s a part of my life, but some people get weirded out by religion.”

I shrugged. “Not me. I think it’s nice. My grandmother’s Catholic, but Mom didn’t raise me to be any religion. She said she wanted me to find my own path. When I took a few yoga classes, they talked a lot about spirituality, and finding your center and your breath, and I thought I’d like to know more about that.”

He nodded. “Buddhism, like the Dalai Lama. Many yoga practitioners follow various yogis who they believe have been enlightened. I think belief in something better is necessary to lead a life worth living.”

I’d never thought of it like that. I mulled over his words. “Are your parents Christian too?”

“I’m Roman Catholic, and yes. My parents grew up attending church every Sunday and I was in religious school for years to get my sacraments, like communion and confirmation. There are many denominations, like Protestant, Methodist, but many fall under the umbrella of Christianity. Catholic is a bit different—more strict, and we fall under the guidance of the Vatican. We follow the pope.”

“I guess visiting St. Peter’s was a big deal for you this week.”

His blue eyes lit up. “It was a dream come true,” he said simply. “Being in St. Peter’s was like going home.”

He spoke passionately but without judgment. I enjoyed being able to open up and be myself with him. “Maybe you can convert me,” I joked. “There’s plenty more churches coming up on the tour.”

“Is it wrong that I’m just as excited for the mozzarella demonstration? I’m obsessed with the pizza here. What they call pizza in Ireland is a tragedy.”