PSEUMINO, VENTO AUREO.

R. NERO

═ ☆. AFTER FIVE MINUTES, YOU BEGAN to think you'd been stood up. It wasn't that big of a deal considering you were still in the front lobby of the dorm and heading back to your room would've taken five minutes. It was just that you hadn't pegged him as the type to make plans and then bounce.

He had said that the next time you ate together would just be the two of you. That had been accompanied with some dumb excuse about his friends being damn annoying.

You sighed soundlessly down at your shoes, turning to take the elevator. A minute later, you let out an ungodly screech as something tugged at your arm.

"You son of a bitch," you muttered, smiling sheepishly at the startled glances and eyebrows cast your way. You pinched at the seemingly empty space beside you, grimly satisfied when you heard a hiss of pain.

"I'd say I'm sorry, but that would be lying."

You squinted. You could barely see the outline of his body, made invisible by the particles of iron.

"You've been practicing, haven't you?"

In response, Risotto took your hand and led you out of the dorms. Infuriatingly, he didn't allow himself to come back into view until a couple of blocks later, where the street was quieter. You knew you looked ridiculous being led by an invisible arm. Maybe that was Risotto's plan.

Risotto was wearing grey jeans and white canvas shoes. An open short sleeve button up bared a close-fitting tee and the silver chain at his throat. You found yourself getting distracted by his well-built chest and forearms.

God, his forearms.

Risotto had the grace not to comment on your staring. Your hands still linked, he led you down a section of Naples you'd never been to before.

The restaurant was simple, seeming not to want to draw attention to itself or seem more important than it was. It was tucked among other family-run businesses and buildings lovingly weathered by people and the elements. The seating area was lit by soft fairy lights strung over the outdoor rafters and the glow of the restaurant's interior. A checkered red-and-white tablecloth patterned all of the outdoor tables, blending in with the dark wood of the chairs and centrepieces. The trimmed hedges and curling vines wrapped along the wooden beams made you feel like you were at a garden party, lulled by the scent of growing things and sweet air. Laughter and muted chatter floated up to the evening sky, a comforting ambience.

The owner of the restaurant was a small, bearded man with deep laugh lines and a round belly. He surprised you by sweeping Risotto into a bear hug, lifting his feet clear off the ground. The tips of Risotto's ears turned adorably red, but you didn't have time to tease before you were being squeezed into a hug too.

"Oh, sorry about that, sweetheart. I probably should've asked first," the man said, seeing your flustered expression.

You laughed lightly. "It's fine, signore. It's lovely to meet you."

Risotto readjusted his beanie gone askew. "This is my uncle. Zio, this is my friend."

You might have been imagining the slight emphasis Risotto put on the word "friend". Risotto's uncle didn't take the hint, pushing the two of you to the outdoor dining area. As was customary of adults in the presence of what they thought was "young love", there was plenty of eyebrow-wiggling and meaningful looks.

Risotto's mortification was hilarious. You wished he would bring you here all the time.

Risotto's uncle did the honours of serving your meal himself. He made you laugh with his relentless teasing, only backing away with his hands up when Risotto threatened to leave.