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↶*ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊ-
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With rapture buzzing in his whole body and a skip in his steps, Ollie marched out of the tour bus him and his family was riding on. He woke up that morning with a feeling pure of elation. Anticipation welled within him—a fervent effervescent—as the thought of seeing her again filled his insides with a surge of fervour.
Rosetta.
There was something about her carefree nature that drew him to her; the way she held herself up with such unwavering confidence, the playful glint in the enigmatic verdant depth of her eyes, her effortless charm and bold presence. It was a breath of fresh air to him and Ollie found himself lost in admiration.
He lacked the strength to hold back that urge to get to know her within himself. It got the better of him, thoughtlessly rolling an invitation off his tongue.
And there he was, head buried in his phone while he manoeuvred through the teeming mass of people outside the Colosseum. His fingers tapped deftly against the screen, composing a quick message to Rosetta to notify her that they'd arrived while his eyes flicked between the screen and the crowd to check his surroundings and adjust his path to avoid collisions, all while keeping his attention on the messages he was sending.
"She's not going anywhere, Ollie," his dad's jovial voice rippled through the air, halting Ollie in his tracks. He turned, waiting patiently for his family to catch up with him, his cheeks flushing slightly as he caught their knowing looks. His father raised his eyebrows, "is she here?"
"Yeah, she said she's waiting by the uh... the Arco di Costantino," Ollie read her message out loud. Looking around, he pointed at a lofty monument standing not far from them, "which is that Arch, I think."
His gaze instinctively shifted towards Matteo—their sagacious tour guide—seeking the subtlest hint of affirmation, whether it was a small nod or any slight gesture of approval.
"Yes, that is indeed the Arco di Costantino," Matteo corroborated, a proud grin on his face, "It was built in AD 315 to commemorate the victory of Emperor Constantine I over his rival Maxentius in the Battle of Milvian Bridge."
"Shall we, then?" his dad suggested.
With an enthusiastic nod of his head, Matteo led the family towards the grand Arch, his words pouring forth in a stream of facts and anecdotes. Yet, for Ollie, it was all a blur. His eyes were fixed on the group of people milling around in front of him, scanning for a glimpse of a certain brunette.
He was lost in his own world, stuck in anticipation, until he felt his mum elbowing his side.
"She respects time," she cooed, giving the eighteen-year-old one of her warm, motherly smiles, "I like her already."
