Far from Over

by April Lindner

Genres: YA Contemporary Romance

Synopsis

A captivating digital original companion novella to April Lindner's Love, Lucy. Jesse Palladino is used to moving on. As a street musician backpacking through Europe, he's never in one place for long. Which is why it's so surprising he can't seem to move on from Lucy, the girl he fell for in Florence. They parted ways when Lucy returned home to start college, but every crowded piazza and winding cobblestone street reminds Jesse of the time they spent together. Now staying with a friend in Naples, he can't help wondering if it's time to pack up and move on again. But just when his mind is made up, something--or someone-- might give him a reason to stay.

Release date: April 12, 2016

Publisher: Poppy

Print pages: 42

Sample

A hotshot in an Armani suit yells into his cell phone, drops something paper in my guitar case, and keeps on walking. So far, it’s been my worst day ever as a street musician, with only a handful of coins to show for the four and a half hours I’ve been playing. I’d just been starting to wonder if maybe I should pack up and call it a day, but now it seems my luck is picking up. I hurry through the rest of the song and take a peek into my case. Did Armani drop in a mere five-euro note or, by some miracle, a twenty?

The answer is neither. I fish out his offering—a napkin smeared with chocolate gelato—and that settles it. I’m going home.

I count up my earnings: a depressing two euros and fifty-nine cents. I can’t help wondering: Have I been playing the wrong songs? I thought a handful of Italian pop songs might go over better than my usual American music, but they didn’t seem to help. Even my lucky song—the Nico Rathburn cover I was playing the day Lucy turned up in my crowd of listeners—didn’t attract a single soul.

Or maybe I just picked the wrong place to set up shop. With all the stores and restaurants in this part of town, you’d think Piazza Carita would be the best place to busk in all of Naples. Today the street is crowded with shoppers and the occasional tourist, but nobody has slowed down to listen for more than five seconds. They just keep averting their eyes like I’m some kind of beggar, and that bothers me even more than the pittance I’ve taken in—not even enough to cover my share of gas for the ride into town.

I’ve just started packing up my gear when I see a familiar face coming my way. It’s a girl I’ve seen somewhere before. I stop what I’m doing and think hard, trying to remember where I know her from. Something about the way she walks—stopping to glance in a store window, smiling to herself about something she’s noticed there—reminds me just a little bit of Lucy, the girl I met in Florence and spent a few pretty intense days with. But then lately, everything reminds me of Lucy—even this girl who, apart from being pretty, looks nothing like her.

I can tell at a glance the girl’s not Italian, and not just because she’s very blond. Her clothes—shorts and a lacy white camisole—make her stand out from the Neapolitan girls, who tend to wear darker colors and show a lot less skin. When she’s a few storefronts away, she catches me watching her. Instead of averting her gaze, as most people would, she smiles as though I’m an old friend she’s happy to see. Then she heads straight for me. She’s slender, with long legs and hair that glistens in the sun. I let go of my guitar case and it drops hard to the sidewalk.

“I know you,” she says in English, surprising me again. From looking at me, most people guess I’m Italian, instead of Italian American from New Jersey, but she’s guessed right. “But from where?” Her accent is German, maybe, or Scandinavian.

“I’m not sure,” I answer.

We gape at each other for a minute, and then she snaps her fingers. “I know. I’ve seen you on the CV.”

“Oh, yeah, right,” I say. “That’s it.” CV is short for the Circumvesuviana, the train that runs between Naples and Torre Annunziata, the town where I’ve been staying with my friend Nello and his family.

“I’ve seen you carrying your guitar case, and figured you must be a musician.” She sounds pleased with herself for being correct. “But you’re done playing for the day?”

“No! Not if you want to hear a song or two. I even take requests.” Feeli. . .