Otto took a sip of the shake. "Yeah, that is good. So, we're going to
the coffee shop next, right?"
"Yeah," Sunny nodded. They finished the shake and went over to the Rivoire café.
They ordered two mocha lattees and sat down. They listened to different people read poetry over an open mic. Most of the poems were in Italian, but there were a few English ones, which were translated over to Italian by someone back stage.
"Oh, I have a good poem. I memorized it. You'll see what it's about when I get up there." Sunny stood and walked up to a guy standing beside the stage. He nodded and she went back stage.
"È vicino Morgan di Savana, con 'Perfetto,'" announced the person back stage. Sunny came out from the curtains and walked up to the mic.
She stated her poem beautifully. "The wind blows through your hair, the salty sea air gritty and warm. I see you enjoy the way it feels; it's a special thing to you. You wait for the perfect set, then you rise for the perfect stance. And when you don't make it, you bite your bottom lip in frustration. Your green eyes piercing, you hair making a halo around your face look aflame. Then you smile wickedly, and start all over again; how perfect you are. You grin, half-heartedly, ready again. Amongst others, you are lonely and misunderstood, your perfection is your shield. It hides you from the rest of the world, a weapon, but sometimes it is held against you. You finally get what you want, your obstinance gets you there. You have the determination, yet, you will never be perfect. Thanks." She sat walked off stage and sat back down as people clapped. (A/N: I had to do this.dunno why.here is the poem in Italian: Il vento soffia attraverso il suoi capelli, il salty aereo arenoso e caldo. Vedo che lei piace la maniera che sente; esso's una cosa speciale a lei. Lei aspetta la serie perfetta, poi lei sorge per la posizione perfetta. E quando lei indossa't lo fa, lei morde il sua labbro inferiore nella frustrazione. Il suo piercing di occhi verde, lei i capelli che fando un alone intorno la sua faccia guardano infiammato. Poi lei sorride malvagiamente, e comincia ancora una volta; come perfetto lei sono. Lei sogghigna, tiepido, pronto ancora. Tra gli altri, lei sono solitario e frainteso, la sua perfezione è la sua protezione. Lo nasconde dal riposo del mondo, un'arma, ma qualche volta è tenuto contro lei. Lei prende finalmente che lei vuole, il suo obstinance lo prende lí. Lei ha la determinazione, ancora, lei non sarà mai perfetto.)
"You did great, meraviglioso!" Otto hugged her and handed her her mocha lattee. He looked at his watch. "Man, it's already five. We've been here for about two hours. Let's head to the Jazz Club, stay there for about an hour and a half, then go to Piazza Santo Spirito."
They stayed at the Jazz Club for about an hour and a half, then headed for Piazza Santo Spirito. It was getting cold out, since it was already quite dark. Sunny forgot to bring her jacket, unaware of Italy's cold nights. Otto let her wear his coat, being generous as he was. (A/N: Doesn't sound like the Otto you know, now does it? lol)
They finally arrived at Piazza Santo Spirito. There were very few people there, mostly older people anyway. Most of them were on their way out, since it was getting so cold.
Otto and Sunny found a seat on a bench. "This is the perfect place under the stars. It's not as good as the rooftop, but it's close."
Sunny shivered, even with Otto's coat on. "I'm f-f-f-freezing." She chattered her teeth.
Otto encircled his arms around her, making her feel more comfortable. They could hear distant accordians and guitars playing Italian tunes late into the night. It made the moment seem even more romantic.
Sunny sighed, feeling overwhelmed by everything she had experienced in the past two days.
"Something wrong?" Otto's face became worried.
"Nothing at all." Sunny smiled up at him. "You know, when I first met you a few months ago, I never thought I'd be here with you. When you first crashed into me, I had this funny feeling, and I immediately liked you. The serious 'like' began when you walked my to my aunt's. Then I started to love you when you took me surfing."
He didn't know what to say. "I was really mad when I crashed into you, because I thought you were a shoobie. Then when I looked up at you, I had a funny feeling too. Before I met you, I would have said girls 'aren't my thing.' I would have thought all this kissin' business was gross, too. You've changed me so much, but in a good way."
"Well, enough with the sap talk, it's making me sick. No, just kidding. You're a pretty good kisser for not having kissed anyone before."
He blushed and rolled his eyes. "Nah, I'm not that good, but you are. But thanks. You made my first one real speciale."
Sunny laughed. "Hey, know what I heard? How come they call it French kissing when Italians do it best? I never thought I'd experience that one day." They both laughed.
"Well you can't experience one good thing too much," Otto said. His hands stroked her shoulders, then smoothed along her back, pulling her closer to him.
Sunny looked gravely into his sonorous green eyes and he she. She twined her arms around his neck. The exhilarant sensation of the night before, on the rooftop, came back. Except this time, she wasn't worried; she was looking forward to it.
Otto leaned over, kissing her casually at first, then began to kiss her ardently. His tongue slid languorously beside hers.
They kissed for a long time. They stopped, then Otto looked at his watch. It was almost 9:30. "Well, we better go. It's getting late. Come on." He put his arm around her and walked her back to the scooter.
"Yeah," Sunny nodded. They finished the shake and went over to the Rivoire café.
They ordered two mocha lattees and sat down. They listened to different people read poetry over an open mic. Most of the poems were in Italian, but there were a few English ones, which were translated over to Italian by someone back stage.
"Oh, I have a good poem. I memorized it. You'll see what it's about when I get up there." Sunny stood and walked up to a guy standing beside the stage. He nodded and she went back stage.
"È vicino Morgan di Savana, con 'Perfetto,'" announced the person back stage. Sunny came out from the curtains and walked up to the mic.
She stated her poem beautifully. "The wind blows through your hair, the salty sea air gritty and warm. I see you enjoy the way it feels; it's a special thing to you. You wait for the perfect set, then you rise for the perfect stance. And when you don't make it, you bite your bottom lip in frustration. Your green eyes piercing, you hair making a halo around your face look aflame. Then you smile wickedly, and start all over again; how perfect you are. You grin, half-heartedly, ready again. Amongst others, you are lonely and misunderstood, your perfection is your shield. It hides you from the rest of the world, a weapon, but sometimes it is held against you. You finally get what you want, your obstinance gets you there. You have the determination, yet, you will never be perfect. Thanks." She sat walked off stage and sat back down as people clapped. (A/N: I had to do this.dunno why.here is the poem in Italian: Il vento soffia attraverso il suoi capelli, il salty aereo arenoso e caldo. Vedo che lei piace la maniera che sente; esso's una cosa speciale a lei. Lei aspetta la serie perfetta, poi lei sorge per la posizione perfetta. E quando lei indossa't lo fa, lei morde il sua labbro inferiore nella frustrazione. Il suo piercing di occhi verde, lei i capelli che fando un alone intorno la sua faccia guardano infiammato. Poi lei sorride malvagiamente, e comincia ancora una volta; come perfetto lei sono. Lei sogghigna, tiepido, pronto ancora. Tra gli altri, lei sono solitario e frainteso, la sua perfezione è la sua protezione. Lo nasconde dal riposo del mondo, un'arma, ma qualche volta è tenuto contro lei. Lei prende finalmente che lei vuole, il suo obstinance lo prende lí. Lei ha la determinazione, ancora, lei non sarà mai perfetto.)
"You did great, meraviglioso!" Otto hugged her and handed her her mocha lattee. He looked at his watch. "Man, it's already five. We've been here for about two hours. Let's head to the Jazz Club, stay there for about an hour and a half, then go to Piazza Santo Spirito."
They stayed at the Jazz Club for about an hour and a half, then headed for Piazza Santo Spirito. It was getting cold out, since it was already quite dark. Sunny forgot to bring her jacket, unaware of Italy's cold nights. Otto let her wear his coat, being generous as he was. (A/N: Doesn't sound like the Otto you know, now does it? lol)
They finally arrived at Piazza Santo Spirito. There were very few people there, mostly older people anyway. Most of them were on their way out, since it was getting so cold.
Otto and Sunny found a seat on a bench. "This is the perfect place under the stars. It's not as good as the rooftop, but it's close."
Sunny shivered, even with Otto's coat on. "I'm f-f-f-freezing." She chattered her teeth.
Otto encircled his arms around her, making her feel more comfortable. They could hear distant accordians and guitars playing Italian tunes late into the night. It made the moment seem even more romantic.
Sunny sighed, feeling overwhelmed by everything she had experienced in the past two days.
"Something wrong?" Otto's face became worried.
"Nothing at all." Sunny smiled up at him. "You know, when I first met you a few months ago, I never thought I'd be here with you. When you first crashed into me, I had this funny feeling, and I immediately liked you. The serious 'like' began when you walked my to my aunt's. Then I started to love you when you took me surfing."
He didn't know what to say. "I was really mad when I crashed into you, because I thought you were a shoobie. Then when I looked up at you, I had a funny feeling too. Before I met you, I would have said girls 'aren't my thing.' I would have thought all this kissin' business was gross, too. You've changed me so much, but in a good way."
"Well, enough with the sap talk, it's making me sick. No, just kidding. You're a pretty good kisser for not having kissed anyone before."
He blushed and rolled his eyes. "Nah, I'm not that good, but you are. But thanks. You made my first one real speciale."
Sunny laughed. "Hey, know what I heard? How come they call it French kissing when Italians do it best? I never thought I'd experience that one day." They both laughed.
"Well you can't experience one good thing too much," Otto said. His hands stroked her shoulders, then smoothed along her back, pulling her closer to him.
Sunny looked gravely into his sonorous green eyes and he she. She twined her arms around his neck. The exhilarant sensation of the night before, on the rooftop, came back. Except this time, she wasn't worried; she was looking forward to it.
Otto leaned over, kissing her casually at first, then began to kiss her ardently. His tongue slid languorously beside hers.
They kissed for a long time. They stopped, then Otto looked at his watch. It was almost 9:30. "Well, we better go. It's getting late. Come on." He put his arm around her and walked her back to the scooter.
