Damn The Day I Met You

Chapter Three

Chapter Three

I was running late in meeting Zach for breakfast. Might not seem like that big of a deal but ever since I had to ditch him that first day, he’s been on me about where I am. I walk fast across campus, trying not to trip like and I most likely going to do. I spot a group of guys up ahead who would check out each girl who walked by.

As I did myself, they continued with their whistles and comments in Italian. I stop in my tracks and turn around to face them, just in time to catch one of the guys in action. I direct my statement to him, “non è realmente quello impressionante trovare un gruppo di tipi che non hanno più meglio niente fare delle osservazioni maleducate alle ragazze. Ha potuto volere trovare un altro attività. (it’s really not that impressive to find a group of guys who have nothing better to do than make rude comments to girls. Might want to find another hobby.)”

The others in the group ‘oohed’ and laughed as the guy I was talking to looked slightly peeved. He glared at me and I noticed the same blue eyes as the guy I bumped into at the restaurant.  He mumbles ‘stupid Americans,’ under his breath, but loud enough for me to hear. I roll my eyes and continue my way to the

As I enter the first classroom I can’t help but feel like everyone’s eyes are on me. I knew my mom was world-wide famous, but why would these teenagers know about wedding bakers? And I wasn’t that famous, mostly people just knew the name.

But nonetheless, the classroom was staring at me, including the teacher. I glance at the clock to make sure I’m not and notice that there were still 5 minutes before class started. Once I notice that there’s only one seat left, I realize they’re looking at me because I’m the last student to enter the room.

“Codice categoria giusto, benvenuto all'introduzione sul mercato. La maggior parte del codice categoria saranno dedicati verso lavorare ad un progetto lungo quarto. Metterò voi tutto nei gruppi di quattro per completare il progetto e la I tranne ciascuno di voi per mettere lo sforzo in esso. (Okay class, welcome to Marketing. Most of the class will be dedicated towards working on a quarter long project. I will put you all into groups of four to complete the project, and I except each one of you to put effort into it.)” He continues to talk about the class and I kind of spaced out. It’s the same thing that teachers in the U.S. go over and I didn’t need to hear it again.  “Ora, leggerò fuori dai gruppi; Tristan, Katie, Peter e Charlie (Now, I’ll read off the groups; Tristan, Katie, Peter, and Charlie.)” I quietly groan, not wanting to be in a group of all guys. It was at about that moment that I look around the classroom and realize that I’m one of the few girls in the class.

I find my group when he has us go sit with them and do introductions. When I take a seat I notice the blue-eyed guy sitting across from me. “Oh la gioia, otteniamo l'americano (Oh joy, we get the American)” he states sarcastically.

The teacher passes out our assignments and I grab it first, curious about what it was. He explained most of the assignment beforehand, about how we’d have to create a marketing plan for a business here in Italy. A smirk appears on my face when I read the company, “Penso che troviate che siete fortunato averli nel gruppo (I think you’ll find that you’re lucky to have me in the group.)”

“For the rest of class I’d like you to introduce yourself and then discuss starting points for the project.” Our teacher says, taking a seat at his desk.

I open my mouth to start but the blue-eyed guy beats me to it. “My name is Tristan Bertina and I’m a  Marketing major.” He says, speaking perfect English and directly to me.

The guy sitting next to him began right after, “Hey, I’m Charles Beinvida, I’m studying International Business.”

The last guy, obviously Peter, smiles at me, “I’m Peter Ricci, a Business major, and totally s-”