The Ache / Damiano David / (Translation)

8.

"Close your books for a while and look me in the eye," Damiano two told her later on Friday night as they sat side by side at the usual bar.
"You know how much I care about good grades." She had told him as he continued to keep her gaze fixed on the philosophy book.

Her hair was still ruffled by the late November wind and she was wearing one of her extra large sweaters, her face was devoid of any layer of makeup and between her lips she had a pencil that she nibbled from time to time when the noises were too high to allow her to study and Damiano's body a distractor for her concentration.

"Charlotte is Friday night, people go to pubs, dance and have fun.
How long have you not enjoyed yourself? "
She had asked Damiano, quickly closing the brunette's book and then placing it on her legs perfectly wrapped in a pair of leather jeans.
Charlotte had snorted and tried to get the book back, misleading the uncomfortable question she had been asked, with little success.

"Answer me" Damiano had teased her, fixing her eyes in those of the girl, assuming an air of defiance.

"There is no answer, there are different conceptions of fun and maybe mine is different from yours." he had said Charlotte leaving him speechless and accentuating her difference from the rest of the girls Damiano knew.

"For me, fun is a night at the disco, a few beers and lots of music." and some girl would have liked to add Damiano, but he did not, they had known each other for a few weeks now and had understood the reserve of Charlotte who lived in a world of her own, consisting of red cheeks when he got too close to her, shivering when the cold and shyness hit her and sweet eyes that from time to time seemed to get lost and to be covered by clouds as nostalgic as the sun during a rainy day.

"For me, fun is staying home, eating a pizza and watching a movie." And to write about you, she would have been inclined to add but she found herself approaching in a corner of her heart - for a few festive days - her idea of ​​him.

It was since they met that she wrote about him, she was her inspiration, every verse she transcribed took the shape of her face.

She wrote of her black eyes, which seemed to hide stories of sailors who had learned to tame unstoppable storms with their humble boats,
she wrote about his apparently sweet voice which, in the company of any noise, turned into a scratchy and sensual sound,
wrote of her hands always holding the same pack of cigarettes he had learned to share with her,
she wrote about that personality so different in her uniqueness, never getting tired and always looking for surprises.

"Well then tonight I'll come to you, I'll bring the pizzas and let's watch a movie, just send me the address, we'll have fun your way but tomorrow, I'll show you how Damiano David has fun."
He had told her Damiano giving her no chance to back off as she left the bar and put her hat on her head.

So, a few hours later Charlotte found herself opening the door of the house with trembling hands, happy for the absence of her mother, to allow Damiano to enter her house.
"Hi amo, you saw that I brought you the pizzas." She had told him Damiano smiling slyly as she entered the house making the Roman accent stand out slightly that she so persisted in hiding her presence in her.

Charlotte had placed the pizzas on the sofa and showed her house to Damiano who in the meantime had placed her fur coat in her room and looked around her bewildered.

It was the first Friday night that Damiano was at home but he was happy to be there with her, because he didn't care what kind of relationship they had, or where they were, he just needed to know that he could familiarize himself with that pair of blue eyes he was in. learning in small steps to get used to it.