"One down, twenty more to go."
Camila pulled the cool white sheets up around her neck, lying back in the darkness of their hotel room.
"Don't sound so enthusiastic," Lauren murmured. Camila could tell she was smiling even though sleep was clear in her voice.
"Thanks for today," she whispered back as she rolled over to face her, the dim moonlight from the window illuminating her features. "I had fun."
There was a long silence before Lauren answered, Camila listening to the even breathing coming from the bed beside her.
"Goodnight."
The brunette rolled back over and faced the wall, trying to get comfortable. Seconds stretched into minutes, and minutes into hours, but she couldn't get her mind to shut off. She could hear Lauren snoring softly next to her, her heart clenching at the calming sound. How was it possible that she had fallen for this girl in less than two days; the premise defied logic, which was something Camila wasn't short of. And she knew the more time she spent with Lauren, the worse it would get.
It was everything.
Her hair.
Her eyes.
Her voice.
Her passion.
The way her face would light up when she knew she was sharing something special with Camila, opening her eyes to something that was once unknown.
The way she would smile and laugh when the brunette was out of her depth, or said something endearing.
Or the way she would be so confident when it came to others, yet shy away from a compliment, almost surprised to hear it directed at her.
All this and it had only been forty-three hours.
And the worst part was that after the three weeks were over, she wasn't sure she'd ever see her again.
No good would come of this.
None.
————————————-
The sun reflected off the expanse of concrete that stretched out before her. The heat rising up from the ground caused sweat to bead on her forehead, and her thin singlet to stick to her uncomfortably. There was no escaping it.
"It's so fucking hot," Camila whined in exasperation.
"That's what the gelato is for," Lauren pointed out unhelpfully, passing her the small cup of cold ice cream, before turning back to the counter and paying the woman.
Camila had stepped off the boat that had taxied them from the mainland to be confronted with the overwhelming sight that was Piazza San Marco. There really were no words to describe the sheer size and wealth of the centre of Venice, with its endless stone arches and thousands of glass windows that bordered the expanse of open area filled with tourist stalls, and restaurants, and local wares.
It was truly awe-inspiring.
Camila attacked her already melting gelato with the small plastic spoon, relishing the cooling effect it had on her tongue and throat. The subtle creamy flavour of the strawberries was heaven for her taste buds.
Oh. My. God.
Why does everything taste so much better in Europe?
She looked over at Lauren, watching her carefully as she took her first bite of cookies and cream, a childish grin gracing her pink lips. Her tongue darted out and wiped a stray drip from the corner of her mouth. Camila diverted her eyes, trying to think about anything but how that tongue would taste. She looked out over the thousands of tourist milling about just outside the gelateria, trying not to be caught once again staring at the girl's teasing perfection.
