Venice was an extraordinarily beautiful city, its lavishness nigh overwhelming. It seems as if at each step you will encounter some aspect of the city worth admiring. It provided a perfect romantic backdrop for the many couples populating the city. A striking woman with a cloud of dark curls and bright, happy eyes, birdlike hand shielded her radiant visage from the scorching sun. Her long white gown bunched carefully in her hands, skimmed over her curvaceous figure metamorphosing her into an elegant, divine creature, a paragon of grace and beauty. An ear to ear smile blinded those who surrounded her, a fetching flush dotted her tan apple cheeks as she stepped clumsily, left heel forwards into the water taxi, three bridesmaids in matching peach dresses and wide brimmed straw hats followed her, while passersby snapped away with their disposable cameras.
Serena's stomach flip-flopped, the woman, unknown to her made the most beautiful bride she had ever seen; she couldn't prevent the jealous, twisting snake in her stomach. She had no idea when she was going to be in possession of the purest, most wonderful happiness there was. She wanted to be married, a picture of Nate formed in her mind, a yellow rose in his hand as he smiled at her slipping his hand in hers, admiring her tasteful yet glittering engagement ring. I love you. Never going to happen, of course she would ruin her chances with the one guy who seemed to put her first or at least joint first.
Blair looked up from her hardback as if she could sense the nature of her thoughts. Her brunette locks fluttering about her shoulders, her bangs had been cut and natural golden streaks glimmered in the sun, she looked perfectly at home in the Italian street, suntanned skin and turquoise eyes meant she received plenty of friendly glances. Serena, on the other hand stuck out like a sore thumb, although still in exquisite form, her fair bountiful hair, bronzed lengthy limbs and unembarrassed trilling laugh meant the spotlight this time was forced upon her. Instead of her usual uncaring attitude, she felt uncommonly abashed in the presence of natives; her entire demeanour screamed tourist and she was treated like a child because of it. Not her idea of fun.
Perhaps this had been a bad idea. She had wanted to explore the world, in its nitty gritty state, not this careful, planned, controlled way. She wanted the excitement of not knowing what was going to happen next, just feeling alive. So far the steady stream of five star hotels strategized scenic walks, dinner at renowned restaurants and endless shopping felt too in her comfort zone. She wanted to go backpacking, climb a mountain, pet a dangerous wild animal, kiss a stranger, be a confidant to a non English speaking housewife, and perfect her French accent.
"S, what are you troubling yourself about?" Blair smiled displaying pristine white teeth, Serena may be unhappy, but she for one was in her element. The serene landscape, historical buildings, priceless sculptures and gorgeous residents was a second home to her; for once she had nothing to grumble about. Nate was finally, finally a part of her past and she had indulged in a hot stones massage this morning that worked wonders for her aura.
"Nothing," Serena swallowed, trying not to look bored.
Blair raised her sleek eyebrows, "Ri-ight," she said sarcastically, "You look like your pet armadillo died".
"My what?" a ghost of a smile tugged at her unglossed lips, "And I do not," she protested definitively.
"It's a reptile and yeah you kind of do. Come on," she shook her best friend's shoulders trying to invigorate some cheer into her, The sun is shining, the grass is green, the water's clear and that hot bus boy is totally checking you out. Why so serious?"
"I don't know, I think I'm just feeling. . . tired," she bit her bottom lip at the lame excuse, "I might go to the hotel and have a little rest," she tentatively suggested not wanting to spoil Blair's high spirited mood.
"Fine," she snapped her large, smoky shades over her eyes, looking glamorous as she turned back to her book, "I advise that you get a massage, it does wonders for your outlook on life," she stretched her bare, tanned legs, admiring the curves of her calves, the silly grin still stuck on her face. This was a whole new chapter in her life, one she couldn't wait to begin. She was sick and tired of the former life she led, the stress and planning it took to maintain her position in the high school hierarchy, to prevent Nate's wondering eye and cultivate her prestigious career. College was done, law school was next, her life had seemed weighed down with tedious adult responsibilities, she wanted to live a carefree life, flirt, swim, read, eat. There was no rush. With that thought in mind, she unwrapped a gold truffle, savouring the smooth milk chocolate.
Meanwhile, Serena went into the marble lobby of the imposing hotel where they were staying, her small heels clicking against the highly polished floor. The elevator was in use, so she skirted around a sheik and his Bollywood wife in order to reach the stairs. Three flights of them to get to her room, but lately she hadn't been getting much exercise, she peered down at her form, her legs seemed to her to be lacking definition. Oh well. She climbed the first two flights with ease feeling like an excited child racing with a sibling, before tripping over a humongous army print backpack, a giant rod protruding from it. "What the. . . ?" she managed to stop herself sprawling down the stairs as her gaze drew up to collide with a pair of large, round liquid brown eyes.
"I am so sorry," his slightly accented voice apologised sincerely, he hurried to get it out of the way smiled bashfully, the picture of adorability, "My name is Rico," he offered her a long fingered brown hand, an oddly shaped scar on the back of his left palm.
"Serena," she mumbled, intrigued by this stranger with beautiful eyes and a really gentle voice. His body was lean, tall and toned like an athlete's, his hair was in desperate need of cutting and was slightly greasy, but thick and rich in colour, the same shade of Oreo's.
"I'm so sorry; I stopped you in your tracks, especially when you were in such a hurry. Please, don't let me keep you."
"Oh, I'm not. . . I mean, I am not in a rush. I don't have to be anywhere," she felt dumb, standing there just staring so she smiled awkwardly and walked less boisterously up the remaining stairs.
"Wait! Err, if you are not busy, perhaps you could show me where the . . ." he rustled a sheath of crumpled scraps of teared paper, "La Scolita," his puzzled eyes were irresistible.
"You're not Italian," she stated faintly surprised, with his lovely, brown skin, elegant cheekbones and expressive eyes, he looked the epitome of Italian breeding.
"Well, yes, but not Venetian, if you understand"
"So you are from. . . ?" her blue eyes scoped his face looking for clues and partly because she wanted to drink him in. Of course he was Italian. Bueno. Bueno.
"Roma." His eyes were downcast and secretive, he took a packet of Polos from his pocket and popped a mint white circle into his mouth. The label was in German.
"Ah, well, when in Rome . . ." she smiled as he laughed. He had a nice laugh, pensive yet loud. Almost as unembarrassed as her own. "I'm afraid though I can't help you, you see I'm not all that familiar with the surroundings myself. I'm awfully sorry."
"Oh no, don't be. Thank you anyway, it's nice to meet you. There's nothing to boost your spirits quite like a pretty girl." he said, blushing a little.
She hid a grin at the compliment, keeping her blue eyes indifferent and watching him grow uncomfortable.
"At least that's what my Dad says, he's a prick, I mean not very nice. He cheated on my Mom, she's a glamour model, huge tits, no personality. Oh my God, I'm just," he ruffled his hair and turned his back on her, unusually flustered by the heavy silence. Why wouldn't she speak? He felt a tap on the back of his shoulder blade, he turned reluctantly.
"So you think I'm pretty?" she began casually before a wicked smile spread across her face. Maybe this break wouldn't be so bad after all.