Doll Eyes (Not Continued)

10: Pure Exotic French Food

A/N:

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~•~

"Rise and shine, V-bird."

A familiar sweet and calm voice woke me up from my addictive deep sleep. Dad.
But sweet and calm wouldn't be the words to describe how he suddenly pulled the curtains apart, letting in the blinding sunshine.

I rubbed my sleepy eyes as they adjust in the brightness, and sat up from the bed.

Last night must have been pretty well, for as soon as I crashed onto my enticing bed, I was shut asleep.

Last night. The Eiffel Tower. The Lights. Christian.

I smiled, in an endeavor to remember the moment last night. I put a hand to my chest, heavy in breathing.

A warm, fuzzy feeling swirled gently around my system.

"We didn't see you come home last night," My dad remarked as he pulled out a suitcase or two.

"Yeah, I was pretty tired from the fair and sightseeing last night," I replied, maintaining the exhaust in my voice, "and probably jetlag."

"No fear, my darling," Dad then singsongs like a hummingbird that choked in its food, "Hey, it's a new day. Better start packing coz we're spending the day together. In Italy!"

"Together? Really." I was never someone to doubt, but they just have been pretty busy since they were with the Louises.

Dad sat on my bed, and patted my head, "Yes, I promise. But we can't be with you the whole day, since you have to spend a little alone time with Christian."

I pouted like a 4 year-old. I'm totally fine with Christian- don't get me wrong. But I wanted the whole day with my parents.

"Meh." I simply complained.

"Meh to you, too. So go and get packing. Your 'meh' wouldn't save us from missing our plane."

"But it's our own plane."

"Pretend like it's not."

~•~

For the second time during the week, I stumbled out of the plane first- only this time I was feeling like I was made of jelly and quite dizzy. Why? Too much turbulence and air pressure. In daytime ( I think that it's rare to have turbulence in the morning).

"Hello, Italy." I greeted the warm and fuzzy air-filled city in front of me, while stretching my arms. The taller italian buildings and towers had hoodwinked everything messy that lay behind them.

I waited as my fellow passengers- My parents and the Louises- trotted down the plane, with stewards carrying our luggages.

I felt sympathy for them, knowing how heavy our bags must be. But they signed up for it- they get paid that way.

As my mom walked closer, I asked- containing excitement within, "So, where to first? Do we get to see the coliseum?"

I have always daydreamed about the amazing ancient coliseum- whenever i'm bored. I assumed that heaps of blood had spilled in its very grounds. And horses with armored men, clashing and clanging each other down.

I was waiting for a reply from Mom when, "This isn't where the Coliseum is, Violet," Christian followed beside me.

I frowned. So much for amazing ancient coliseum with blood-covered grounds. "But, we are in Italy. It's in Italy... right?"

He laughed, "Yeah. But have you heard of cities? Or states? We're in Venice."

I mentally facepalmed. How stupid could I be? Total 100% stupidity, Violet.

I was surprised when suddenly Mr. Louis jumped in,"You know, with the boat-thingies and the river."

I blinked at him, replying. "Oh... Oh! You mean, Gondolas and the Grand Canal."

"I thought you didn't know."

"But I do."

"But we will go to Rome, right? To the coliseum?" I asked Christian.

Please say yes. Please say yes.

"Of course we will," he smiled at me, and my knees slightly shook, "Anywhere you'd like."

~•~

This day was the destined "Family Day".

And guess what? I was stuck NOT with my family.

They kept telling us that we were a 'future family'. But jeez, it's FUTURE- not PRESENT.

But my parents also told me that was going to be the first and last time I was going to be stuck alone with Christian for the day.

Phew.

"Where the heck do you find American food here?" I was getting hungry- but wherever I looked, it was Croissants, Bolognaise, Eclair, Baguette, and soup with rose petals?
PURE EXOTIC FRENCH FOOD. IN ITALY.

Ironic.

I've been eating PEFF's for the past few days, and I'm telling you, I suck at getting used to eating PEFF's.

"Fettucine Alfredo must be good enough. It's pasta and you have that in America," Christian suggested, scanning through a bunch of squeezed-in restaurants.

"Bona Fide Delicatesse." I stated the tall, brown restaurant's name. "It has French-American Burger, Italian-American Bolognaise, and... yeah, everything's something-American."

"Sounds pretty good. I'm dying from famine, you know." Christian remarked dramatically, expressing his desperation to eat food.

"Cool. Let's gooo."

I pushed the heavy door, brown open. A cold, but relaxing aura had replacedd the heat we had from outside. Christian must have noticed it, too, because he let out a breath.

I laughed at him, seeing that he was hungrier than me. But instead of complaining, he pointed, "Hey. What an uncanny piece of display."

I looked at him skeptically, but followed his finger silently. I turned my head around.

I gasped.

What I did made me wish that I didn't.

I wished that I never turned around.

That I never even went in here.

That I could just eat French/Italian Food instead.

Because right then and there, in front of me, you'll never guess it.

Green eyes, curly hair, painted lips.