Italy is a wonderful place. You love it there, your family loves it there — obviously, since they have their summer vacation home in the Northern countryside. It’s nice to visit and experience the wonders of the country while your father continues with his studies, and your mother throws parties at which you meet some of the most interesting people in the world.

This summer, however, is quite different. Your father has invited an exchange student to live with your family as he studies philosophy, archaeology, and anthropology under the guidance of your father, a professor. You dreaded this idea — and, in fact, still do — not wanting to share your annual summer getaway with anyone you didn’t already have a relationship with.

But the man who joins you on your property is a kind, handsome man called Hugh. And after the first few awkward weeks, the tension drawn between the two of you was unmistakable. Soon you were slipping notes under each other’s doors, flirting shamefully, building something for the both of you.

It’s 1983. These kinds of things are not acceptable.

As you lie on the stone perimeter of the backyard pool, Hugh swims from edge to edge, his strokes long and lazy. He’s so incredibly athletic and lean… strong and built tough — everything you’re not. The sun beats mercilessly down on the two of you.

Hugh’s head pops up out of the water and he looks at you, relaxed, your swim trunks from boyhood and your sunglasses concealing half of your expression. He swims up to the edge of the pool.

“Are you wearing sunscreen?” He asks you, crossing his arms on top of the surface you’re lying on. His first job is to look after you like he swore to your father that he would.