El learned one thing very quickly: Mike was a gentleman.
He visibly gulped at the hotel attendant's words and replied without pause, "Oh, that's a mistake. We're not together. She needs her own room."
"Hmm…" the hotel attendant replied. Her brow furrowed as she looked over the spreadsheet in front of her. She held up a finger and pulled her papers together, muttering a quick, "Let me see what I can do," before she turned and disappeared through the door behind her.
"I - I'm so sorry," Mike said the instant that the door swung shut, spinning on his heel in El's direction, "I - I don't know how this happened."
El looked up at him curiously, "Why are you apologizing?"
"I uh… I - " words escaped him for a quick second. His fingers ran a jagged pattern through his hair. He looked at her directly, dark eyes filled with pleading, "I just need you to know that I didn't do this on purpose."
"- Oh - "
"- I'm not a creep. I promise you! I didn't mean for this to happen. I'm really really sorry. I - "
"- Mike - "
"- She was talking so fast back at the airport. I - "
"Mike. I don't think you did this on purpose," El said with a clear tone in an attempt to get a word in edgewise. He finally stopped talking then, but she could still see his cheeks flaming scarlet.
She could see why he would be worried, of course. The situation did look sketchy as hell from her vantage point: Standing in a foreign hotel with a near stranger learning that somehow his conversation on her behalf had resulted in a single hotel room for the both of them? Yikes. Yet it was absolutely clear from the panic that he couldn't seem to quell: Mike had no ability to pull such a trick.
She found herself giving him a reassuring smile, "They're figuring it out. I'm sure it will be fine."
He didn't seem to know how to reply, but slowly the red receded from his cheeks and the stark line in his forehead relaxed, even if just a little bit. After a moment he returned the tiniest grateful smile, nodded, and turned back to the desk, his eyes gluing to the door where the hotel attendant had disappeared.
Throughout the intervening moments the hubbub of fellow passengers faded away. One by one they each received their keys from the other attendant on duty and disappeared down a nondescript hallway, until it was only Mike and El left alone in the lobby.
Sleet was now pounding loudly against the windowpanes behind them. It was the only thing that kept them company as they stood silently side by side while the minutes continued to creep by. Throughout the time El found her old familiar awkwardness attempting to slip back up her spine. A hesitation on what to say next. An awareness of her faded sweatpants. Even a worry that maybe she was breathing too loud. Yet, every time she looked over in Mike's direction the uncomfortable edge seemed to dissipate back into nothing. Despite the stress of the situation, she couldn't help but notice the odd calm that drifted over her while at his side. It was a jarring sensation to have after going months without it, yet she couldn't shake the odd sense of… familiarity maybe?
She wasn't sure what to call it, but it definitely felt nice.
Very nice.
He didn't seem to feel the same, however. To the contrary, he still looked riddled with anxiety.
She watched him from the corner of her eye as he stared with unyielding attention at the door behind the counter, as though he was attempting to will the attendant's return with his mind. El tried not to stare at him, tried to pull her eyes away, but they simply kept drifting back.
She grew braver as the minutes passed. There was an elegance to his features, even in his tense state. Little things jumped out, calling her attention here and there, like how his almost black hair fell across his forehead. It was just a little messy, sweeping down and on the shaggy side, as though he hadn't had a cut since he'd left The States. She noted the specific way that he seemed to chew on his lip just a bit too hard, to the point where it left tiny indentations on the right side, that particular spot just a little redder than the rest. She couldn't help but notice his lashes, longer than hers, fanning as he blinked with an instant flourish.
She probably shouldn't have been thinking it at this point. It was really not the right topic, especially considering the circumstances, but she had to amend her previous statement:
Mike wasn't just cute. He was beautiful.
It was almost as though Mike had sensed her thoughts, for at that very moment he finally looked back in her direction. Biting the inside of her cheek to quell any guiltiness that could have given her away, she smiled at him tentatively.
He tried to smile back, but it came in more of a grimace.
At that moment the door swung back open. The attendant gave them both a tight smile. "I spoke with the airline. They agree that this was a mistake."
"See, I told you it'd be fine," El said with a reassuring lilt in Mike's direction.
"Unfortunately, though," the attendant continued, "We have no more rooms."
Now that was an unexpected statement.
"Excuse me?"
"The airline has booked the remainder of our hotel and there are no rooms left," The woman said with a maddeningly casual shrug.
Mike visibly gulped and stepped forward, placing his hands on the desk, "There's nothing you can do?"
The agent looked at Mike with something akin to pity, "You're free to call around to any other hotels in the area or speak with the airline," her eyes skirted past the sleet stricken windowpanes as she continued, "On account of the storm, however, most of the planes have been grounded. I expect that any rooms near the airport are booked out."
Mike cursed under his breath and spun to El in an instant, his expression resolute, "I can get a hotel in the city or I can go back and sleep at the airport - I - "
"The management has offered dinner at our restaurant to help manage your inconvenience, in case you're unable to find other arrangements."
El's attention snapped to the desk, "Did you say free dinner?" she asked, her eyes widening like saucers.
For the first time the attendant showed a crack in her veneer, "Yes. We understand that this situation is less than… adequate. So please, if you're unable to make other arrangements, have dinner on us. We have a full service restaurant on the other end of the building. Simply add it to your room number at the restaurant and we will write it off as a courtesy for your trouble."
El did some frantic calculation:
Hours since she'd had a full meal: 24. Hours until she'd get a full meal for free on the plane: 16. Amount of money in her pocket: …unsure but only pocket change left…
El's stomach seemed to answer for her, its growl loud enough that she was sure both Mike and the attendant could hear it.
"We can make this work," El said immediately, her hand shooting forward to snatch the room keys from the counter.
"What?!"
She turned to find Mike staring at her, mouth agape.
Her stomach growled again.
"Really, its okay." El waved of her hand in the common sign of 'no big deal'. "I've been sleeping in coed dorms most of my trip, anyway. Cheapest way to travel. Plus," she lowered her voice and bent closer to him, her jaw locked as she whispered the words, "Free dinner."
Mike stood frozen, seemingly unable to process what she had just said.
"Is it possible - if a room opens up can you contact us?" El asked the attendant.
"I can do that," the attendant said kindly. She lifted a piece of paper and began making a note.
El turned back to Mike to find that her attempt to placate the situation had not made him feel better. Tentatively, she offered him one of the keys. He took it numbly, his eyes stitched wide upon her, his expression smacking of disbelief. El hoisted her backpack higher upon her back and took a step toward the hallway, no longer wasting any more time. Her stomach seemed to do the leading. She found her way to a staircase and began the climb, unsure of where to find the elevator. Mike was absolutely silent in her wake.
It was only at the landing of the third floor that she realized what she had done.
With a guilty gasp, she turned to face him. "Hey, I'm sorry."
"What?"
"I got so focused on food that I got a bit blinded. Is this okay with you?"
He stepped up the final step and stopped in front of her, his expression indiscernible. He was quiet for a moment, seeming to weigh his words.
A hint of guilt laced through her at the pregnant silence. How could she have just made this decision for him and then walked away? He clearly wouldn't have done that to her.
"I just - is this really okay with you?" Mike finally asked, "I don't want you to be in a situation you don't feel comfortable with."
El considered his question, mulling it over one last time.
It was the oddest thing, the strength of her intuition's answer. She nodded, "Yes, I'm okay with this. Are you okay with this?"
Mike took a deep breath and ultimately nodded back, "If you're comfortable then… then yes, I'm comfortable."
"I mean," El shrugged as a tiny smirk crept to her lips, "This is what travel is supposed to be right? A crazy adventure? I can't really think of anything crazier than the fact that an airline booked two strangers in the same room."
A soft laugh flowed from Mike as he shook his head and rolled his eyes, "Yeah. This is a very crazy story."
"And look," El continued, catching his eye to make sure he understood, "I know I don't know you… well… at all, so I can't why I feel this way but… I trust you."
The change in his expression was like watching a storm front leave the sky. Tight tension flowed away from his gaze in an instant and something else took it's place. Something new. Something soft and radiant and -
El had to look away.
"Yes. You can trust me. I promise," Mike said, his voice so very earnest.
El nodded, rooted to her spot. She ventured to look him in the eye again, something within her awakening in his gaze. She smiled, "I know."
"Cool," he said, holding her gaze almost longer than she could handle it, before looking away and pointing down the hall to their room. "Well, um -" he intimated, gesturing his body in that direction. Only upon the loss of his eye contact did El realize that she hadn't been breathing. She pulled in a deep silent breath as he led the way. Stopping at Room 353 he pulled out the key and held the door open for her to pass through first. El took a step in, and stopped dead in her tracks.
"Um…"
"Oh my God…"
"I take it you also expected that there would be two beds?"
Her attention snapped up to Mike and then back to the room as all of Mike's tension seemed to cut through him in a barking laugh.
The room was so small. A single queen sized bed sat in the center… if you could call it the center. The room truly looked as though it had been constructed around the bed, only allowing enough space on each side to shuffle past. A single sad armchair was shoved in the far cover on the far side of the bed in lieu of a table.
The view of it all made something in El simply crack open. Laughter broke through her, punching at her ribs and tickling her brain. Before she knew it she had dropped her bag on the ground and had buckled halfway over, hiccuping for air, her hand cradling her forehead. "This is ridiculous!"
"Do you want to go back and talk to them?" Mike asked, his voice laced with amused surrender.
"I'll just sleep on the floor," El offered, pointing to the thin strip of floor on the far side of the bed, "There's enough space for me here."
"What? No!"
"No?"
He shook his head resolutely, "I can't do that. You're taking the bed."
El scoffed, "Where will you sleep?"
"The floor? The… the chair?"
She shot him an incredulous look, "You're a foot taller than me and you paid for my cab fair. You take the bed."
"What? No!" He shot back, his hair bouncing as he shook his head with even more fervor, "You've been traveling longer and you haven't eaten and you probably need more rest then me. I've been in a nice bed for months. You take the bed."
El smiled helplessly and held up her hand in a truce, "I'm really going to need to eat something to keep up this fight about who can be more chivalrous."
Mike let out a defeated chuckle, "Okay. Just… Oh my god, this is crazy!" His hands raked through his hair as his body pulled into a stretch, his eyes wide with disbelief. His long torso arched, riding up his soft dark blue sweater to reveal the slightest sliver of his abdomen above his cinched belt and very nice jeans.
Suddenly self conscious, El looked down upon her own ratty sweatpants, decimated hiking boots, and her mismatched sweatshirt, "I'm going to get changed and then go down and find food," she said instantly, grabbing her bag from the ground and heaving it through the bathroom door by the entryway, "I'll be just a minute."
"Yeah, sure," Mike said. He dropped to the bed as she ducked through the bathroom door, shutting it firmly.
Her body fell against the closed door and she looked up to find herself facing her own reflection. Now safe and alone, she let every emotion from the last hour flood her expression.
"WHAT. THE. HELL?!" She mouthed in a silent scream, her eyes wide and twinkling, her cheeks tugging upward into a crazed open-mouthed smile. This was INSANE. Had the fates aligned to throw ALL of the ridiculousness of her trip into one single night?! It sure seemed like it, for after almost two quiet serene months on the road, seeking adventure and finding nothing more than quiet countryside and silence, El had officially been thrust into one of the most ridiculous situations of her entire life.
And here, in this otherwise forgettable hotel, she found herself awash in such bizarre chaos that she was sure that she must have been dreaming. In fact, she realized, she should probably check that. For the guy in the other room? The tall, dark-eyed, respectable, sweet guy in the other room? He was definitely something that her overactive imagination would have created in a dream.
Her hand came up and lightly slapped against her own cheek.
She winced.
Nope, she was definitely awake. She was definitely here, living this, stuck on this insane ride for the next many many hours alone with… Mike.
El forced a deep breath, and upon her exhale she practically dove for her bag. Fighting with the enclosures, she wrenched it open and shoved her hand blindly down into its unseen depths, searching for the right tactile material to brush against her fingers. A single dress, left unused throughout her entire trip. It was nothing too special, just a simple knee length burgundy wrap dress with long sleeves. She'd packed just in case a nice occasion arose: a fancy dinner or a cocktail bar, a night at the theatre… A date, maybe?
She pulled her lip between her teeth as her attention darted to the paper thin wall that separated her from… from him.
Maybe she was overplaying how absolutely attractive she found him. Maybe she was just insanely lonely. Maybe the fact that she'd succeeded at having a simple conversation for more than three minutes of the first time in weeks felt so good that she'd had an aneurysm. Or maybe he was just really nice and thoughtful and friendly and tall and handsome and…
"El!" she mouthed to herself in the mirror, "Pull it together!"
This was just a voucher dinner in some nondescript hotel in the middle of nowhere suburbs of Rome. Dinner with a stranger who was forcibly stuck with her for the night. Nothing more.
Her heart whined.
"El, no. This is not a date," she whispered sternly to herself. And she would do best to remember that.
This was not the night for the dress.
But, then again… what could it hurt? It was just a simple dress, after all! Modest yet classy… It could mean nothing! He didn't know her at all. Maybe it was just the way she dressed! Normal people dressed in dresses for a casual dinner.
She was clearly overthinking this.
Her hand stopped in her bag as the slick synthetic material finally wrapped through her fingers…
Before she knew it she had kicked off her sweats and boots and had tugged on the dress. She adjusted the tightness of the wrap in the mirror, checking it out from all possible angles. Moving closer, she adjusted the neckline, ensuring that the v-neck covered anything that wouldn't be considered modest. Neckline set, her eyes carded up her own reflection and frowned. A few minutes later her braids were gone. In their place, soft curls dropped against her shoulders, a bonus from the fact that she had allowed her hair to dry within the loose braids. She then quickly fished out her toiletry bag and her flat slippers, topping herself off with a quick brush of mascara and the slightest hint of lipgloss as she toed her way into less utilitarian shoes.
Taking a step back, she raked her reflection with hesitation.
The tiniest squeaking noise escaped her lips.
Her heartbeat was racing, and it was only then that she fully allowed herself to feel it. It had been coming on since she'd first laid eyes on him but now, here in the relative privacy of the bathroom, only accompanied by her own reflection, she finally gave into it. It was a bubbling sensation, starting deep within her, and it percolated like steam directly behind her sternum. It made her feel delightfully shaky, and it forced her lips into a giddy and perennial smile.
She took a final look at herself in the mirror. Then, with a little goodbye to her own self she turned, placed her hand on the doorknob, forced a final deep breath, and took a step out into the hotel room.
OoOoOoO
A thick fog of panicked awkwardness had grown around him so heavy that he could have almost choked upon it. He stared at the bathroom door, it's soft green hue unyielding as the minutes passed by and the girl that he only knew as El remained on the other side. Sleet sounded off on the windows behind him. The sharp staccatos felt like shellack encasing him within this tiny room… with no one but her.
It was too kind of her, the easy grace with which she was handling his massive mistake. He could see his mistake plain as day now: The mistranslations at the airport had been so very slight, but they had been absolutely damning. Yet, even after what he'd done, she had been the one to ask him if he was okay with all of this?
How could he not be okay with this? How could this girl ever think that this would be anything other than a bizarre dream come true? Moreover, that she'd forced him into this?
Quite the contrary, and he tried to avoid the thought, but something inside of him wanted this too much. Wanted to know her. Wanted to laugh at her jokes and relish in her travels and her smiles and anything and everything about her that she was willing to share… He shook his head frantically in an effort to dislodge the less than gentlemanly path that his thoughts were about to take.
He caught his reflection in the TV, then. He looked haggard. Messy hair and slumped shoulders. Creases at his eyes from the shock of the situation. Taking a step toward it to get a better look, he dragged his fingers through his hair in a furious manner, attempting against common sense to tame his unruly mop.
He jumped at the sound of her footsteps and turned in her direction as she re-entered the room.
"Oh -"
His voice halted before he finished his sentence.
El stood in the doorway, utterly transformed.
The simmering heat and nerves within Mike spiked to a fever pitch as he took her in. She was draped in a soft maroon dress. It followed the center of her body like a silhouette, belling out softly at the hip to drape down perfectly, stopping right above her knees. She'd discarded her messy braids, leaving her soft brown hair to lay in decadent waves against her shoulders. Her eyes seemed to sparkle a little more than before.
She looked absolutely gorgeous.
Her feet shuffled against scratchy carpet as she spoke, "Um… I was going to cash in on that free dinner. Would… um… do you want to join me? Are you hungry?"
"Y-yeah!" Mike almost yelped, stepping forward with such eagerness that he came close to tripping over himself.
If she'd noticed, she was kind enough to hide it. "Might as well make the most of it and eat everything on their menu, right?" She said with a joking shrug, "they didn't specify a limit."
"I mean, I think they owe up that much," Mike replied, "Should I change, though? Because you uh - you look…" he tried to stop himself from raking his eyes up her body, but he wasn't sure if he succeeded, "You look really nice."
El ducked her chin in reply, and a closed mouthed smile showcasing a dimple in her cheek materialized upon her, "Thank you. But no, you don't need to change. You already look nice. It was me. I was literally wearing pajamas before."
Mike felt his back straighten and his shoulders square at her words, "Okay, cool. Thanks. Um… Do you uh - do you want to go now?"
"Please," she said adamantly, "I'm so hungry I could eat my backpack."
"Well, we don't want that," Mike replied with a laugh as he gestured to the door.
The hotel was a bit of a labyrinth. They finally found their way back to the elevator that had they missed before, yet they definitely weren't alone in arriving to it. A large group had accumulated in their wake, a small stream of hungry travelers likely headed to the same location as them. So, when the ding of the elevator doors opened, Mike followed El in with about eight other people. The space filled up fast around them. Too fast, in fact, for before he knew it two older ladies had trapped him against the wall, El sandwiched directly in front of him.
"Sorry," El said with a guilty expression as she shuffled closer to accommodate the incoming throng. He tried to pull himself back further against the wall, but it was no use. Before he knew it she was directly up against him, her hip brushing up against the back of his hand, her surprisingly soft scent drifting around him.
"Um…" he breathed, leaning down, hardly needing to do more than whisper for how close she was to him, "I really think this elevator has reached its weight limit."
"Well," she replied, considering the others pressed in around them, "I guess if we have to die in an elevator, at least it'll be another story to tell."
Mike laughed, "I - I don't think we'd be able to tell the story of how we died in an elevator. We'd be… dead."
She looked up with lively surprise, "You don't believe in an afterlife?"
"Um…"
"I mean, I bet that's the best time to tell stories. You truly have nothing else to do, for all of eternity."
Mike nodded thoughtfully, "Good point. Death by elevator via bad translator would be a good story to tell forever. Well, maybe for you."
Her eyes darted up to his for the quickest moment as she smirked at his words, biting back a laugh. She was so close that he could almost feel the energy of her expression radiating from the golden flecks in her eyes. Something in him stirred at that split second before she abruptly looked away. A fullness in his chest. An aching awareness of the lack of space between them…
He didn't get long to ponder, though. Instead, the elevator doors dinged and slid open just like any normal ride.
"Well, I guess we weren't destined to die here," she said this a teasing lilt as she stepped out and followed the throng of people toward a simple sign that just said 'RESTAURANT'.
The second they stepped into the doors of the restaurant they stopped in their tracks. To be fair, Mike wasn't sure exactly what he had expected from a mid-grade hotel's on-premise restaurant, but it definitely wasn't this.
They found themselves in a small ballroom. Outdated but surprisingly classy. The lighting was soft and diffused, with candles dotting each table, White table clothes and full glassware adorned each table, and, despite the room filling up with diners, the voices remained hushed by the plush walls and thick curtains, making for an oddly intimate sensation within the almost grand space."
"What is this place?" El asked, wide eyed.
"I have no idea," Mike replied quietly, "but I can't help but feel… we're not in The Shining, are we?"
El stifled a laugh, brushing her shoulder into his arm with a slight push as not just one, but two waiters approached them. They each wore white sleeves and a black vest.
"Numero di Camera?" the taller of the two asked.
El looked up to Mike helplessly.
"Oh right!" Mike stuttered, "Trecentocinquantatré."
The shorter of the two waiters nodded and pointed toward the far end of the room to a table against the wall. He led them through the room, pulled a chair for El, and handed them their menus, disappearing without another word.
"This place is so oddly fancy," Mike said as he picked up his menu.
"Yes!" she agreed, looking around with wide eyes, "I'm so glad I changed."
"I'm kind of wishing I'd changed now."
"You're fine," she said with a dismissive wave, "You look great."
Once again her eyes darted up to meet his, only to run away the instant that she spoke. She seemed supremely interested in the menu at that, which was nice because at least it gave Mike the space to let his true expression of baffled flattery rise to his face.
…She'd complimented him twice in ten minutes. That fact was not going unnoticed.
"Thank you," he found himself whispering under his breath as his eyes glued his own eyes back to the menu. The truth was, though, he could hardly read it. Not due to a lack of acumen this time, but rather from the pulse of his nerves. They danced around his brain, begging him to look back up at her, refusing to translate, stamped in shock that any of this was happening at all.
The waiter's return caught Mike by surprise. He almost jumped as he heard the man's voice at his right. Completely unprepared, Mike pointed to two quick things on second page of the menu with a shaky finger, nodding yes at any of the questions that the waiter seemed to ask. Handing his menu back, he looked up to El as she simply said 'spaghetti' and practically tossed her menu to the man, her eyes no longer on him, or the menu, or the waiter.
She only had eyes for the bread that the waiter had placed on the table.
Only then did Mike remember that she'd mentioned how broke she was all the way back at the airport. He couldn't help but wonder the last time that she'd had a real meal, and he chided himself for not realizing earlier that he should've tried to do something about that. Offering to get her a sandwich from the airport or something. Anything. For the way that she tore into the bread was ravenous, sopping it quickly in the olive oil that the waiter had set down and closing her eyes with an intense sense of delight as she chewed.
It took her a minute before she seemed to remember that she wasn't alone.
"I'm sorry," she said through a slightly full mouth, "I'm starving."
"No, it's okay," Mike said with a laugh, reaching for a piece himself.
"It's really good bread," she said as she reached for another piece, bumping into his hand as she snatched the piece right next to the one that he chose. "I'm going to miss bread in Europe so much. I wish bread was this good in America."
"Honestly, the food has been the absolute best part about living in Italy," Mike said in agreement, "No matter how bad class got each day, I at least knew I'd enjoy dinner. "
El looked up at him again, a little more light in her eyes now that'd gotten something in her stomach, "What'd you order?"
The waiter sidled up beside the table with what Mike expected to be water, but he hardly noticed, his attention on El.
"Oh, I don't even know what I ordered, honestly. I've never had it before. Whatever it is it'll be good so - "
It was then that he realized that the liquid being poured in front of him was not clear. Instead, it was a deep deep red.
"Did you order wine?" Mike asked, his brow knitting toward El in confusion.
"Nope," she said, looking up in surprise as the waiter moved to pour her a glass.
Mike held up his hand for the waiter to stop, "Um sorry? I didn't order this."
"Scusa, parlo solo Italiano." The waiter replied, pulling away after both of their glasses were filled.
"Oh, right," Mike shook his head and tried to pull his Italian back up to the front of his mind, "Non ho ordinato vino?"
The waiter regarded him curiously before he shook his head as though Mike was wrong. He placed the bottle down and stepped away, returning with a menu. He opened to a page and circled the menu items that Mike had ordered.
There it was, plain as day, that it was in fact he who had ordered them wine.
Mike dropped his head. "Shit.."
"Non lo vuoi?" the waiter asked.
He looked up to El with helpless surrender, "El, do you want to help me drink this bottle of wine that I absolutely did not mean to order?"
El giggled in reply and nodded, something almost pitying in her expression. "Maybe it's for the best," El said as the waiter walked away, "Honestly, you look like you could probably use a glass of wine."
Mike smirked sardonically and looked back down at his glass, "Yeah, you're probably right."
"Hey," she offered kindly, lifting her glass in the air, "Cheers to one of the weirdest nights ever."
Mike had no other choice but to laugh, "To one of the weirdest nights ever," he agreed as he clinked his glass against hers and took a deep drink. The wine was full bodied and jammy. It offered an intensely comforting sensation as it slid down his throat. He let himself enjoy it, his eyes slipping shut for just a quickest moment.
El's voice brought him back to the table, "So, can I ask you a question?"
"Um… Sure."
She regarded him with more of what was becoming her patent look of curiosity. She spoke slowly, seeming to choose her words carefully. "How does a person with… I hope you don't take this rudely. You're infinitely better than me at it, but… how does a person who is less than fluent in the language come to find themselves at school in Italy? I mean, it's one of the only countries in Europe where English isn't readily spoken?"
The dark chuckle that came from Mike was resigned. He took another deep gulp of his wine, tore into a new piece of bread, and popped it in his mouth before he answered. "I'll tell you but it's embarrassing."
"It can't be that bad!"
Mike grimaced and dropped his chin to his hand, elbow on the table. "I was overly confident."
"How so?"
"Well, for starters I had no idea that English wasn't as common here in Italy. Everyone always told me that everyone in Europe spoke English so I just… took them at their word I guess? But um.. I started taking Italian as an elective in Sophomore year of college because… damn this sounds nerdy, but I was reading a lot of Umberto Eco at the time and I was curious what it would be like to read him in his native language."
"That doesn't sound nerdy!" she said with a debating tone, "That sounds awesome."
"Well, thank you. Anyway, so I started studying Italian because I had elective hours in my schedule and well, I thought I'd gotten good at it. I can read Italian pretty well, or so I thought. But then, um, during my senior year my dad got in my head telling me all this stuff about how my English major wouldn't amount to anything, you know, job-wise? Anyway, he thought I should supplement with something else and I just… well, I thought I'd try to kill two birds with one stone and travel here to do it. So I came here to try my hand at this kind of transitional program that would prep me to apply for graduate school for applied science."
Her expression was sympathetic, "Not what you expected it to be, I take it?"
"I don't even know, if I'm honest. Turns out reading Italian well does not translate to speaking or hearing Italian well. At least not for me. I got so hung up on trying to piece out the language in each of my lectures that I almost flunked the program."
The admission fell from his lips with an ease that was alarming. He hadn't told anyone… not his parents or his friends or… or anyone… about the results. Honestly, he didn't even want to tell himself. Yet they fell out easily to El.
Maybe it was the fact that she was a stranger, someone who was likely drifting through his life like a ship passing in the night. But it felt like such an infinite relief to say it out loud to someone that he… he trusted.
"That… sucks," she said simply, her tone so deeply understanding, "I'm sorry."
"Yeah… I uh…" he let out a deep breath, "I don't know why I told you all that but - but yeah. That's how I ended up here and I guess that's also why I'm heading home. It's been a, um, a humbling few months, to say the least."
She didn't speak for a moment. She took a fresh piece of bread and moved it slowly through the olive oil as she considered her next words, "Well… even if it didn't turn out the way you though it would, at least you tried something you wanted to try. Most people wouldn't have taken the risk. It's really cool that you did."
Her words felt like a salve on his heart. His voice was hushed when he replied, "Thank you."
Her smile was soft in reply, her eyes kind upon him in a way that made it oddly easier to breathe, "And look at it this way," she continued, gesturing around her, "Your Italian skills not only got us a free place to stay but also free dinner and free wine. So, I'd say you're doing pretty good."
Mike rolled his eyes with a laugh, "Well, I'd have to admit that it was actually my lack of Italian skills that did that but… I'll take the compliment."
She shrugged playfully and reached for yet another piece of bread. "So, Applied science isn't for you, then? Did you like it, you know, the parts that weren't stuck behind a language barrier?"
He thought on her question for a moment and ultimately shook his head. "No, I mean, I don't know. It was interesting but it wasn't like… I guess I didn't find any passion in it? So I don't know if I'd want to do it my whole life, like for a career."
"What are you passionate about, then?"
The word passion popped off her lips like a tiny explosion. Mike swallowed against another rise in his chest.
"Sorry," she said, seeming to read something in his expression, "Am I being nosy?"
"No, not at all," he waved his hand to dispel her worry, "I mean I have my degree in English because I love to write."
Her eyes absolutely lit up in reply. "Really? What do you write?"
"Oh, I mean, um… well… " he felt it, that familiar flush of nervous shame that came with talking about his writing, but he tried to fight it down. "I've have a few short stories that have been published and - "
" - You've been published already?" she interjected, her eyes widening, "That's so cool!"
Mike was pretty sure that he grew three inches taller at her words. His lips fought to keep his expression even, but he lost, a huge smile breaking through, "Yeah, I mean not in anything too big just a couple of small magazines and such here and there, but yeah."
"Still, though!" she said excitedly, "What do you write about?"
"Lots of stuff. But um… I guess I think about weird circumstances a lot, you know?"
"Like strangers getting booked into the same hotel room?" she teased, an amused giggle bouncing out of her.
"More like alternate universes. Mind bendy fantasy sci-fi. Stuff like that."
Her eyes narrowed with curiosity, "Okay, like what?"
"Like…" okay Mike this is your chance to impress, "Okay, so I haven't written this yet but I've been batting around this idea that's like," Mike gestured at the room, to the waiters, the dinner patrons, and everyone around them. "So, say everyone in this room just *poof* gets dropped back in time. Together."
The most adorable quizzical wrinkle appeared between her eyebrows, "What?"
"It's like, okay," he took a quick breath and tried to reform his thought, he snapped his fingers, "like that, by some weird rip in the time-space continuum or something, all of a sudden every person inside these walls just finds themselves transported back to like, I don't know, 600 years in the past. But we're in the exact same geographical place."
El looked around the room and tried to make sense of his thought, "So, this whole group of people shows up out of nowhere in 1400s suburbs of Rome?" she laughed, backtracking, "I don't really think they had suburbs then, but you get what I mean."
"Exactly like that," he said with a nod, "So like, taking all of these people and sending us all back in time in a split second when no one is expecting it. That would be pretty insane, right?"
She nodded, "That would definitely be weird."
"We'd need to band together, right? Create a community to protect each other? To survive? And just like, what are the dynamics of that? How would everyone fare? Who would be the leader? Who would we sacrifice? How would we defend ourselves?"
El seemed to consider the topic as she dipped the final piece of bread into the olive oil. "In this room? I think I'd fare pretty well, at least."
"Ooh, confident," Mike found himself teasing, "Interesting."
El gave him a sly look, "You don't know my skills."
"Touché," he conceded.
"People would flock to you," she said, jutting her chin toward him.
"Me? Why?"
"Well, you're the tallest young man in here. That's a sign of strength. Virility."
The sardonic laugh cut from Mike's lips before he could stop it, "No one has ever once called me 'virile'. But okay, I appreciate that. I don't think I'd end up as the leader, though," he looked around, considered for a quick moment, and pointed to a single man at a table by the far wall, "That guy would be the leader."
El leaned forward and took a glance to where he pointed. "Why him?"
"Look at him. He's confident enough to drink a whole bottle of wine alone but he's still put together. He's older, but not too old. Strong, but seems to also have some wisdom."
El nodded in understanding, "He's seasoned."
"Exactly," Mike replied, accentuating with a strike of his finger, "He's probably well spoken. Intelligent. Like you said, seasoned. I'd follow him."
She nodded and pulled back to look at him. She pointed to him with the bread in between her fingers,"And considering I speak no Italian. I'd follow you - "
"-Oh!" Mike retorted, hands in the air, "No, I'm sure that after a while you'd find a much more effective translator than me. I would become completely useless to you."
"So down on yourself!" she joked through a mouthful of bread, "You have other qualities besides basic translation skills!"
"Oh, really?" he asked, getting braver, "And what are those?"
She looked at him for a moment, her gaze disarming. "You're excellent company." she finally said.
Mike bit his lip, hard, just to make sure that this moment was real.
"You - You think I'm excellent company?"
To his surprise, his question seemed to have the opposite of his intended effect. Because at that, El's expression dropped a bit. She reached for her wine and took a long pull. Eyes on the glass, she swirled it thoughtfully for a few seconds.
"Yeah," she finally said, looking back up to him with a thread of something…vulnerable… in her gaze. "I mean… I don't know, " she shrugged, "I, ugh, I don't know why I'm saying this. It's embarrassing. But… sometimes I'm not like.. not the most socially adept person."
"Really?" he asked with the utmost surprise, "You might want to rethink that, because you totally could have fooled me."
"Yeah, so yeah, that's the thing!" she said, her expression growing adamant again, "I uh… I just, you know, I freeze up around strangers sometimes, well, usually. So, that's kinda the thing here. You're one of those super rare people who are easy to talk to from the jump. You're very welcoming. So yes, excellent company."
There was a gratefulness in her gaze that made him have a million questions, each of them playing on his heart. He didn't ask them though. Instead, he just smiled. "Thanks. You're excellent company, too, by the way."
"Yeah?" she asked with a shy laugh, "Well, I'm at least glad that you're not regretting helping my hopeless ass in the line back there."
"Not in the slightest," he replied, his voice plainly honest. She looked back up to him and returned his smile, holding his gaze for a little longer than she had before, "So," he continued, scrambling for something, anything to say to continue the conversation, "If we both think that we're excellent company, would you want to form an alliance?"
"An alliance?" she asked, her brow knitting sudden confusion.
"You know, if we ended up getting thrown back in the past? Excellent company is one of the top requirements for a situation like being sent back in time against our will. We could band together. At least we know that we can get along decently well."
She considered him playfully for a moment before holding out her hand to shake, "Okay, deal. We'll be in this crazy alternate reality together."
He took her hand over the table. It felt soft in his grip as he shook it, delicate yet firm. Warm and electric. He pulled hand away almost by force, ripping his attention back to his last train of thought.
"So, if we're forming an alliance in this alternate reality," he continued, his voice hiding almost all of his now stuttering pulse, "We have to know each other's skills. What can you contribute?"
She thought for a moment, swirling her wine once again, "I can kickbox."
"You can Kickbox?!" Mike exclaimed, "Holy shit! I made a good alliance. I um… I can run and swim fast, I guess."
"Useful!" she replied in agreement, "I'm trained in de-escalation and negotiation techniques?"
"Really?" he said, taken aback, "How'd you get those skills?"
"Oh, my degree is in social work. I've been trained to de-escalate between families and bitter exes. Useful skills."
"Very useful," he agreed, "So yeah, I guess I can… poorly translate your de-escalation pleas into broken Italian."
That got a laugh from El. She put her wine back on the table as she buckled over a bit, her eyes rolling as she looked back up at him. Mike laughed in reply and took another drink of his wine, emptying his glass. "No, but really, I can… I can tell stories. We can be stuck in the middle ages for every and I'll never run out of stories to tell."
El nodded in approval, "Always need a person like that around the fire in the 1400s, I'm told."
"That's what the ancient people I've met tell me," Mike teased.
"And imagine how blown away those ancient people will be by your wild future stories," she exclaimed, before she too drained the last of her first glass of wine. She gestured to the bottle, and Mike nodded, filling up her glass and then his own, the bottle emptying upon a heavy pour in each glass.
"And… oh! I did a lot of stick sword fighting as a kid," Mike added jovially as the waited for the final drops to fall into his glass, "That should come in handy."
"Ooh yes!" El exclaimed, "You can fight our enemies into submission with a stick and then they won't see me coming while I place a well aimed kick."
"You have a very good tactical mind, I see," Mike teased, impressed, "Another useful trait."
El brushed it off as she took a fresh drink of wine, "You don't get raised by a cop and not know make the best move in a fight."
"You were raised by a cop?" Mike exclaimed, "Oh man, you're going to end up protecting me by the end of this. You realize this, right? Are you sure you don't want to rethink this alliance?"
At that, El smiled, not holding back. She looked radiant. A little tipsy. Eyes shining and cheeks blushed.
How?
How was this girl looking at him like this?
It wasn't like Mike hadn't had his share of dates, short relationships, and flings here and there. Of course he had throughout the years. But not with someone like El. With her glowing smile and disarming honey eyes. With her soft brown hair that his fingers were itching to touch if he allowed himself to admit it. Girls like her did not smile at Mike like this.
Or maybe he'd never given them the chance.
Maybe he'd never allowed himself to believe that they would give him a chance.
Yet, now a chance had been handed to him, seemingly by the fates themselves, and he found that he couldn't look away from her.
Thank God he was interrupted by the waiter bringing their food.
"So you uh… you studied social work, huh?" He asked as his plate was laid down in front of him, "That's really important work."
"Yeah," she said with a shrug, "I'll admit I'm a little nervous about it as a career. That's one of the reasons I took this trip. Have a big grand experience before life got kind of crazy with a stressful job"
"No, that's cool though," he encouraged, "You're actually going to do something that matters."
"Thanks, I hope so." She said, ducking her head as she twirling her fork into her spaghetti, "I just… you know, childhood is such an important time and helping kids get a good start is super important to me."
"What got you into that?"
At that, El looked up, hesitant for a moment, "Personal experience," she finally said as she reached for her glass of wine, taking a deep pull.
"Oh," Mike said quick, "Sorry, I -"
"- Don't be," she waved his hesitation of with a brush of her hand, "I just had a couple hard years in the foster care system after my mom died and before my adopted Dad got me out of it. I want to make it easier for other people who end up in the system."
Everything about El suddenly seemed a little different as she spoke so plainly about her life. The air felt a little heavier and a little less like a dream. A little more like all of this around them was actually real.
"I'm sorry," Mike said soberly, "That's… really cool of you though, wanting to help others. So, is it just you and your dad now?"
"It was," El replied, biting her lip as she seemed to form a new thought, "My dad just got remarried a couple months ago so I guess I have brothers now. That's weird."
"Bad weird?"
"No, I don't think so. I haven't spent enough time with them to feel any like, familial bond or anything, but they're nice. I was supposed to stay with my step-brother for the night in Chicago but it doesn't look like that is happening anymore. Looks like my dad should be able to pick me up now with this layover. Oh," she blanched, "I need to let them know my flight was cancelled."
"Oh you're right," Mike said with a guilty laugh. Mike knew that Will would put up with a lot, but making Will go to the airport when Mike wasn't even going to fly in for a whole other day… that might be pushing it, "I completely forgot. I need to call my roommate when we get back to the room."
"Anyway," El continued, "I'll see my new brothers at Christmas in a couple of weeks, though, so ask me again after that."
"So, you don't live in Chicago?"
El shook her head, "I grew up in Indianapolis but - "
"Oh really?" Mike said, his eyebrows perking in surprise, "I'm from Indiana, too!"
"Really?" El asked, suddenly wide eyed.
"Yeah," he replied, shrugging dismissively, "I'm from the boonies, though, nothing like Indianapolis. I went straight to college in Chicago and never looked back. Where'd you go to school?"
"IU in Bloomington. You?"
"Valparasio."
"Oh, that's cool," El said, taking a sip of her wine, "So, do you like Chicago? Are you staying there now that you're on your way back?"
"Gosh, I haven't thought about it yet, really," Mike replied, almost surprised that he hadn't asked himself that question in the intervening weeks, "I mean, I still have my apartment there. I rented out my room for the semester but I thought maybe I'd have a better idea of what I wanted to do when I got back."
"Not so much?"
"It's like…" Mike sighed, "Even more confusing than before?"
"I get that," El said, "You should do what you love, though. I mean, no better time to do it."
"How do you mean?"
She shrugged and played with her food as she continued, "I don't know. It's something my mom always told me before she passed away. She um.. she always told me that when you're young that's the best time to do the stuff that other people think is crazy, because you have less holding you back. The older you get the more things pop up, responsibilities and stuff, to slow you down, so she always recommended the 'This might be your last day, live for today' approach."
"You mom sounds like she was really cool."
"She was the best," El replied wistfully, "I try to live by that advice. Not to get too caught up in the money and what the world says we're 'supposed to do'. So, you should write book, you know? What do you have to lose?"
He tried to find an answer, but "Nothing," was the answer that he found.
Her eyes lit up at his answer, "Well, you have nothing to lose, then definitely do it."
He found a nervous laugh crawling it's way from his chest. Heavy, overwhelmed, punch drunk. "Wait, you don't even know if I'm a good writer."
El's smile was demure and she avoided his eyes as she replied, "I'm sure you're a good writer."
Mike drained his glass, his skin heating.. Something was happening within him. Her words, so full of surety despite knowing nothing about him at all, had hit him in the chest like a bullseye, shaking his core in a way that released a sensation of inspiration so intense that he had a hard time keeping himself in the chair. His back had straightened in his chair. His lungs had filled. He let something inside of himself believe her. He felt her words strike like flint, lighting embers in his chest that had laid dormant for months.
"You're going to be a great social worker."
She looked up, surprised, "Why do you say that?"
"Because if you're anywhere near as good at talking to kids about their futures as you are talking to me, they'll all be in great hands."
El beamed, the fire dancing in the depths of her eyes, "Thank you. I'm um… I'm glad." Her fingers danced across the tabletop in quick succession, reaching for the stem of her wine glass and taking a large drink of the jammy red he'd erroneously ordered yet was so very glad they'd received.
They finished up shortly after. The table had been cleared of anything edible, and the dining room had emptied of people during their conversation. Mike had completely missed how much time had gone by, but by the time they got up to leave not even the waiters were clearly visible.
They made their way out of the door before El stopped in her tracks, held up her finger to get him to wait for a second, and bounded gleefully back through the restaurant door. When she retuned, he noticed that her sweater was wrapped around her arm, pulled to her chest. Only when he had re-entered the hotel room did she present what she'd been hiding.
She looked guiltily delightful as she showed him a stolen half-bottle of wine. "I noticed it on the table next to us. They'd abandoned it," she admitted.
"You're a thief!" Mike cried, dumbfounded and wonderfully tipsy, "I thought your dad was a cop!"
"I'm not a thief!" she retorted, slapping him playfully on the arm, "This was going to go to waste! I'm just… recycling it!" She shot him a sly smile before bringing the bottle straight to her lips and taking a swig, then handing him the bottle.
Mike stared at the bottle, the invitation glorious and exciting. She looked so comfortable and giddy as she handed him the bottle, her dress matching the wine stain that now painted her lips. Her eyes watched him expectantly, and when he met her gaze, this time he did not look away. Something within him, something absolutely insane, was dancing with anticipation. Futile he was sure, but just the mere sensation of spending dinner with her… it had been the most fun he'd had on his entire trip.
And it wasn't over yet. Not by a long shot.
Mike's nerves danced like fire as his fingers brushed against hers and he took the bottle from her grasp. He laid his lips to it, directly where her's had been just seconds prior, and took a drink.
Oh man this fic is fun to write. Would love to hear your thoughts! Drop a review or hit me up on IG at el - borealis or Tumblr at el_borealis!