Chapter 5

Day five, andI'm still waiting for something magical to happen. Don't get me wrong, my butt has become accustomed to the hard seat, and my muscles are getting used to the daily grind. The landscape is beautiful, and the Italian people are incredibly kind and charming, but…

I don't know what I expected to happen on this tour. Scratch that—I was hoping to find a tall, dark, handsome stranger to sweep me off my feet as we biked through the beautiful countryside. I look over at my two companions sprawled out in the grass and snort. Lynnette is guzzling a split bottle of chianti which came with our picnic lunch. She's as red as a steamed lobster, even with her 70SPF sunscreen slathered all over her. Her Be Happy blue visor glitters in the sun as she mops the back of her neck with a wet paper towel. Harrison hunches his bony shoulders over his picnic basket, searching for something dairy-free, which will be challenging since it's a bread and cheese basket. I hand him my grapes, and he smiles gratefully, quickly munching them.

"Slow down, Harrison. I'm not going to ask for them back."

I may not have found my Prince Charming on this tour, but at least I met these two. I wouldn't survive this without them.

Lynnette gathers our empty lunch boxes and chucks them in the trash for us. Harrison gulps the rest of his mini bottle of wine. Lynnette raises her eyebrows as she glances at me, and I shrug. He usually passes the lunch bottle to Lynnette or me because he's a lightweight and doesn't enjoy wine.

"Wow, Harrison, special occasion?" I ask.

"No." He brushes the back of his hand across his mouth. "My muscles ache. I figured this is better than ibuprofen." He chucks the bottle in the waste bin before we walk over to our bikes. My butt screams in protest as I saddle up. Okay, maybe it hasn't quite adapted to the seat yet.

"Oh, holy mother of God, I can't do this," Lynnette grumbles, straddling her bike. "Did y'all say we have a hilly route today? I swear Janice signed us up for the advanced tour. I told her I wanted the beginners' tour, but she never listens to me."

Smiling, I buckle my chin strap. "Only four more days, Lynnette. If I can do this, so can you."

"That's the spirit, cara mia!" Romeo passes by me and holds up his hand for a high-five, which I lamely slap. "It's a beautiful day!"

"I swear if I hear him say that one more time, I'm going to show him where he can stick that sunshine," Harrison grumbles.

I giggle and wait for him to get situated. "Wow, H, I didn't know you had it in you."

"I can be fierce when I need to be," he says smugly.

"Uh-huh." I watch his spindly legs try to push his bike in a forward motion, but the lack of movement causes it to wobble. At the last possible second, he pushes off the ground with his toes and lurches ahead. It's like watching a kid learn how to ride a bike for the first time.

I follow suit and instantly feel relief from the cool breeze that glides over my back. That's probably the only redeeming part of biking—the constant current of cool air over your skin. The front pack starts an annoying cheer while Romeo points out a village in the distance. A car speeds by, honking its horn because some moron in the B-team enthusiastically waved. Harrison swerves and slams on his brakes. My shoe slips out of my pedal, and in the split-second I look down to fix it, I smash right into him, taking his bike down with me. We sprawl out on the side of the road in a tangle of limbs and bikes. I groan, trying to sit up.

"Summer, Harrison, are you okay? Don't sit up." Romeo blows three shrill whistles, alerting Milo leading the front of the group of our demise. "Harrison, you have a nasty gash on your leg. It might need sutures." He unzips his red fanny pack and takes out a bottle of antiseptic while Milo rushes toward us.

"My thumb feels funny." I gingerly lift my hand and almost pass out when I see it hanging at an odd angle.

"Oh Lordy, that ain't good." Lynnette gulps, crouching down next to Romeo.

"No, it isn't." Romeo's grim expression tells me everything I need to know. I cradle my hand against my chest and look over at Harrison.

"Are you okay?"

"Awesome," he groans.

"Why did you slam on your brakes?" Romeo asks.

"Sorry, the car horn made me jump, and I reflexively pulled the brake grip at the same time I hit gravel."

"We need to get you two to the closest hospital," Milo surmises after he has a silent conversation with Romeo. Romeo nods and turns, walking a few paces to make a phone call. Milo surveys the bikes with his hands on his waist and says something rapid in Italian. I'm guessing it's something close to this: These fucking idiots. How do they not know how to ride a bike? Stupido C-team.

The other cyclists hop off their bikes and form a claustrophobic circle around us. They murmur their condolences before walking away.

I turn to Romeo, who has ended his call. "What do we do now?"

"We wait."