"Jay, what do you want?" I ask him. He looks down at his calloused hands. "You." He answers, earnestly. I turn to Leo now, "what do you want, Leo?" His answer is identical. "You." I fumble with my red-painted fingernails. Jay's hand is rough and war...
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Update, I'm now four weeks in and no bell'uomo. Nothing. I haven't even tripped. It's warm today and my dress is sticking to my skin like white on rice. There's sweat on my entire face...my cheeks are pink from the heat and my skin is darkening by the second. I may look sun kissed from a ways away, but up close, I'm quite sure I look like a whore in a South Georgia church.
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I fan myself frantically before walking into a small little caffè. It's crowded and in an attempt to avoid all human contact, I keep my head down and wait in the long line. I'd rather not have strangers see the film of perspiration forming just above my lip, and on the sides of my nose...my eyelids, for goodness sake.
"Cosa posso fare per te (what can I get for you)?" I had no idea what the baristo was saying. Shit.
"Um..." I began, "Tea? Iced tea?" He shrugs, clearly as confused as I am.
"Che cosa (what)?"
"Um," Lifting my hand up, I pretend to drink, which obviously doesn't help. I'm in a damned coffee shop. Everything is to drink. "Tea..." This is all I can come up with. How had Nonna and I not gone over something as simple as tea?
"Non capisco, signora (I don't understand, ma'am)." Out of nowhere, just as I'm about to give up, a man's voice grabs my attention.
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"Solo un tè freddo, amico...su di me (just an iced tea, dude...on me)." Ladies and gentleman...this could be the moment I've all been waiting for. The baristo nods at him, understanding now. Handsome hero man hands him a couple of Euros and then turns to me, smiling.
"Please tell me you at least know coffee in Italian." Ha-ha. He's an American, but my goodness, what a gorgeous American he is. I laugh, but now I'm more than aware of the moisture on my face. Shit.
"You know, I do know coffee...but I like tea so much—I have no idea why I didn't think about that beforehand." He chuckles and leans against the pick-up counter.
"I just don't know how he didn't catch on when you played out the whole drinking motion." His harmless teasing had me smiling brightly.
"Very funny." I counter, in weak defense. I hold my hand out to him and he takes it, but not like a normal handshake. He's holding my hand. "Isabela."
"Leo." He says back, "Isabela...you are the prettiest American I've ever seen." Suddenly, my blush spreads like wildfire, adding onto my already pink sun-tinted cheeks.
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He turns to his friend, who is—to my surprise—equally incredible looking. He smiles at both of us, but it's not a vivid smile, like his friend's. It's hard. Not in a bad way, just...there's not as much happiness behind it. Maybe his eyesight is better and he sees the wall of sweat beads all over my body. The baristo places my icy beverage on the countertop and I pick it up, immediately doing anything I can to quench the thirst that's crept up during the past few minutes. Leo smiles, totally entertained. "That good, huh?" I nod, beginning to grin a little myself.
"It's so warm out, I thought I was going to pass out."
"Just think," He points to my plastic cup, "Had you known the Italian word for tea, you would've had that a few minutes sooner."
"You make a valid point." Hard Smile walks over and places his empty glass on the counter, where mine had just been.
"But then you wouldn't have been able to swoop in and save the day." I'm pretty sure Hard Smile is being sarcastic. Either way, Leo doesn't seem the least bit bothered. He smiles at his friend and then back at me.
"What are you doing right now?" He asks me, curiously. Cue my I've-seen-all-three-Taken-movies attitude change.
"Actually, I'm supposed to get home. My grandparents are making lunch." I begin to back away. As the feelings of instantaneous regret start to battle with my precaution, I simply tell myself that if I run into Leo and/or Hard Smile again, then it's fate. It has to be. Verona isn't that small. "Thanks so much, you know, for translating." Leo's smile was fading quickly, but instead of annoyance or anger, he just looked a little bit defeated. My muscles twinged as every nerve held onto the hope that I would, in fact, see them again.
