𝘐𝘯𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘵

𝘍𝘰𝘶𝘳.

𝘈𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘳𝘰'𝘴 𝘗.𝘖.𝘝.

I trailed after Massimo, being annoyed, tired and angry. 

"Look how cute this is."- he said smugly, taking a pink sticker-note off the bowl with strawberries before showing it to me.

Fragole/Strawberries. 2 simple words written down in cursive handwriting. I admit, it is exceedingly neat and beautiful handwriting, too gorgeous to believe that someone has such handwriting. 

"Ah, lo sposo e il damerino."- stated Raul, shaking our hands by turns. (Ah, the groom and the man of honour.)

"Piacere di vederti, Raul. Come sta andando il processo? Come va con la signorina Richards?"- said Massimo with a smile, shooting me annoying grin, spoiling my bad mood further. (Nice to see you, Raul. How is the process going? How are you getting along with Miss Richards?) 

They talked about the wedding preparations, discussing some shit, and I waltzed off, being bored and exhausted as it is. 

I leaned on the worktop, looking around, sighing heavily when her stupid purple pen, which is next to pink-yellow stick notes, popped up in my sight. Not countless fruit and berries scattered around worktops in bowls, not numerous stick notes in Italian and English, not oven with some shit baking in them. 

It just has to be that pen.

It's been 5 days since the last time I saw her and I cannot get her out of my fucking mind. I remember the stupidest, the smallest things about her, things that I shouldn't have noticed in the first place.

In span of those mere 5 days I fucked more than I ever have because I needed to get her out of my system and yet, I cannot seem to be able to do it because her name occupied my mind so much that it escaped from me more than a few times, images of her sinfully and annoyingly stunning self cloud my thoughts inspire of different naked women being in bed, getting fucked by me. 

She makes me feel weak, disoriented and so goddamn tired. 

"Admit that he is hot and you want him!"- stated loudly some woman, catching Massimo's and Raul's attention, but not mine. 

I couldn't care less what's that about.

"No, I don't. Please, I am trying to forget him, so should you. He is out of my league."- replied all too damn familiar voice, making me tense up. 

Who is out of her league? Why is she trying to forget someone? Who the fuck is on her mind?

"Vedi, ti ho detto che nessun uomo perderà una persona così perfetta."- whispered Massimo, my jaw and fists clenching. (See, I told you that no man will lose someone so perfect.) 

"Oh, you are here."- said some familiar woman, all of a sudden smiling as smugly as my brother did mere minutes ago. 

But cazzo, all I could see was her. 

Fuck, she seems like she got even more beautiful in those 5 days. 

She is aesthetically elegant and dainty. It is too addictive, alluring and tempting. You just look at her and you cannot look away for who the fuck knows what reason. I am that helpless case. 

Her long, silky, lustrous hair is as dark as the most enchanting night. It cascades down her dainty back in effortlessly lovely waves as a few small stands are pinned at the back. That dewy, clear, sun-kissed skin looks unrealistically sleek, but fuck, I bet it will feel heavenly to touch it. Her breathtaking face is perfect and absence of shitload of makeup only proves how damn gorgeous she is.