CAPO

7. Giovanni

Arabella had probably read his letter ten times over.

It was lunch now, and she was sat at her usual spot in the garden, on the grass. She sat on the little bench, hunched forward as she reread the letter, memorising every stroke of the letters.

"I see you found my letter,"

The girl yelped, muttering a few curse words. Giovanni stood next to her, his hands behind his back as he smiled at her. The sun burned against their skin, making both of them glow with an orange hue.

"Seeing as that it was the first one, yes. By the way, you must stop calling me boring,"

"If you payed attention whilst you wrote, Miss Jones, you would've seen I infact, did no such thing,"

She laughed softly, motioning for him to sit. He unbuttoned the button of his suit jacket, taking his place next to the girl on the bench. She looked at him and he looked at her, smiling.

"How's your boyfriend?"

She stayed quiet, looking away from him. Then, she mustered up the courage to give him a response, "He didn't come home last night," She whispered, her chest aching with ever word.

"The reason?"

"I have yet to speak to him," She whispered again. The man nodded, "I see. Forgive me for asking but, are you truly happy with him? Because from what I've seen-"

"No, I'm not," She blurted.

The man looked away, hiding his smirk. The girl sighed, "I don't know why I'm even telling you this, you're a complete stranger. But no, I'm not. And I don't think he loves me anymore mainly because I rarely see him and when I do, it's like he doesn't see me,"

"A fool wouldn't see you, doll."

She sighed again, smiling softly, "It's just easy with him and I don't think I have the strength in me to start over with someone else,"

"Understandable. But if you lack attention and happiness, I would assume you would leave them to move onto something that is more to your liking, no?"

"Perhaps," She said, searching his eyes. She noticed how his eyes were a dark grey then, and not a blue.

"I expect a letter back," He said gently. The girl hummed in response, nodding softly. "Do you have any classes left? He asked, tilting his head. She nodded, "Italian for one class and then I'm done. Why?"

"I was wondering about another coffee, perhaps this time we won't be at eachother's throats"

"Well, if you don't agrivate me this time, it won't happen,"

He laughed then, softly and gently and genuinely. She looked at him as he did, noticing how the corners of his eyes crinkled and his straight white teeth beamed. She found him almost painfully attractive. From the way he walked to the way he spoke and wrote and thought. She almost felt bad for thinking of a stranger in such a way, but she couldn't help herself.

"Am I allowed to wait for you in your class?"

"Sure, if you won't laugh at my lack of the proper Italian accent,"

"Non posso ridere di qualcosa di perfetto come te, Arabella,"
[I cannot laugh at something as perfect as you]

She rolled her eyes, "You speak Italian? Now you definitely cannot sit in my class," The man laughed, "I promise I won't laugh, all right? I'll merely interject where I find a fault,"