CRAVING U (The Rook Café) Read Online Free PDF Page B

which in a show of fortuitousness was a lovely late summer day: the
sun was still high in the clear blue sky and warmed the earth happily.  The
mistral was blowing gently.
    It would be her first time inside a
world-class stadium with not one, but two upper decks.  It was La Scala of soccer, and the idea of sitting in the area reserved for the most avid fans,
the legendary “lions’ den” of old, gave her a simultaneous rush of reverence
and pure adrenaline.  Matteo had told her that their seats were in the blue
section of the second deck, in the Curva Sud : how he had managed to get
tickets for section 210, where almost everyone was a season-ticket holder, was
a mystery.
    Even Carlotta had decided to come along,
though reluctantly, seeing as how Valerio said he had no interest in wasting an
entire Saturday evening at the stadium, where, as he put it, “it’s all just a
bunch of guys.”
    Until meeting Matteo, Marika had been what
you might call a soccer agnostic; the Vendramini household was interested only
in cycling and the fortunes of the Vicenza soccer team, the Lanerossi . 
But Matteo’s influence quickly had an effect on her.  She knew the rules, the
teams (at least at the top of the rankings), and even the sports commentators. 
After enough time, she had learned how to hold her own in a conversation about
soccer with anyone, experts included.  Matteo bragged about his teaching
prowess every time he heard her launch into a debate about the quality of the
referees or a manager’s lineup choices.
    As a way to pass the final gut-wrenching
hours before their scheduled departure, she jumped on the back of her scooter
with a black helmet on her head and peeled away toward Mulino Tessari, the old
watermill.  It had been ages since she went there, even though in years past it
had been the favorite (and cheapest) “playground” for her and Carlotta.
    She drove leisurely through town, a series
of hills pregnant with the smells of cut grass and endless varieties of trees:
oak, beech, hornbeam, maple, hackberry, acacia, chestnuts hiding their prickly
fruit behind dark leaves, silvery olive trees, and Judas trees with their
crimson berries still clinging to the branches.
    As she neared the spot, she turned off the
engine and listened to the slow-moving waters that flowed down the valley in a
wide canal from the Liona river and propelled the large water wheel.  The mill
that stood at the center of the courtyard was a two-story house: the ground
floor had a kitchen and a fireplace, while the second floor, accessible by a
steep set of wooden steps, hosted the bedroom.  Above it all was a granary. 
The stone walls, held together by mortar made of lime and sand, gave the building
its rustic flavor, as did the wooden beams and terracotta tiles on the roof.
    Leaving her scooter behind, she passed the
surrounding wall and walked toward the iron wheel that had once been used to
crush wheat and corn, planning to sit down on the wooden steps next to it.  But
as she neared it, she noticed the outline of a man’s back leaning against the
knotty wooden railing.  He was reading.
    Marika advanced cautiously, with careful
steps, trying to identify the intruder.  She was unhappy to find an unwelcome
visitor here, since she had chosen the old watermill as the perfect silent and
out-of-the-way place to lose herself in the first chapters of Eclipse ,
the third book in the Twilight saga.
    Despite her best efforts to be quiet, dry
branches cracked beneath her tennis shoes and alerted the man to her presence. 
He jerked around.
    “Matteo!” she exclaimed, surprised and a
bit thrown off.  “What are you doing here?”
    “I come here all the time,” he said, his
warm, clear voice sounding slightly embarrassed, giving off a hint of his
northeastern accent.  “What are you doing here?”
    “Me?” she mumbled.  “I didn’t know you
ever came here.”  She was disappointed to discover that he had secrets from
her.
    “I like