Rome, September 2005
Lunch had gone incredibly well. Not just the food but him too. They fell back into the rhythm of their youth. The back and forth. It was fun. She didn't know she'd miss it. Intellectually, he matched her and she hadn't been bored for a second.
She yawned.
She wasn't bored.
"You're getting very sleepy," he said slowly, like a hypnotist.
"Shut up. But yeah, I am, can we take a taxi back?"
He tsked. She gasped in a mocking fashion. He only frowned.
"It's a five minute walk, Rhonda. We're not taking a taxi. Our hotel is literally around the corner."
"I might just sleep on the sidewalk."
"I promise not to let that happen."
She waited for the bill to come but noticed that he was already putting on his jacket.
"Wait, aren't we going to pay?" she asked, grabbing her purse.
He looked pained. "Can I tell you a secret? I left my wallet at the hotel. We're gonna have to make a run for it."
"Thaddeus!" she hissed.
He laughed. "Relax, I paid when you went to the bathroom."
She pouted. She wanted it to be her treat so that they could be even. He drove her back to her hotel (saved her from getting lost, really) and she pays for lunch. A done deal. This just means she owe him more now.
"You can get the bill next time," he said smoothly.
"Next time, I'm not even going to think of going to the toilet. You're such a hustler."
"You love it."
"Keep telling yourself that," she muttered. The corners of her mouth itching to be pulled up into a smile but she didn't want to give him the satisfaction.
He offered her elbow to him. This time, she took it.
"Come on, I'll take you back to the hotel. Make sure you don't nap in the streets of Rome."
"My hero," she deadpanned.
Rhonda tried to stick his loud laughter and the feel of his arm to memory.
…
She slept for eighteen hours. It had been three in the afternoon when they got back. At the hotel lobby, she removed her heels and walked barefoot. There were a couple of strange looks from the other guests. Something Thaddeus found hilarious because it seemed so uncivilised for an heiress to do that but she didn't care. Her feet hurt and her eyes were droopy. She muttered a grouchy goodbye to him as they reached her floor and didn't bother to listen to his reply.
As much as she wanted to jump into bed, she had to shower first. After she cleaned up though, she made short work of putting on her clothes and combing her hair. She didn't bother with a hairdryer. Instead, she snuggled under the cold comforter and went out very quickly.
The next day, a rude knock woke her up.
"Breakfast will be over in an hour!" a voice boomed from the other side.
"Go away," she muttered into her pillow.
He continued to press the door bell.
"Argh!" she screamed. "I'm coming!"
She pulled off the lovely covers and followed the carpet trail to the door. It didn't occur to her she was only in her extremely short pink satin shorts and white camisole top until she answered the door. After he stared at her legs then her chest. Another important thing she forgot was that she slept without a bra. Her face heat up.
When he looked back up at her face, he had a smile on. "Good morning!"
"Perv," she muttered but stepped aside to let him in. "What time is it?"
"Time for you to put on a bra and join me for breakfast," he quipped.
"Don't be an idiot. It's too early for that," she said. She checked the phone by her bedside. 9:13 in the morning. Perfect.
"I'm just going to wait here to until you get dressed."
He sat on her bed as if he belonged there.
She scowled at him, both hands on her hips. "Did I invite you here yesterday? I don't recall having a conversation about," she gestured to the whole room, "all of this."
"You were going to miss a free breakfast," he said, grabbing her remote and flipping through the channels on tv.
"In case you missed the memo, I'm rich. I can buy my own breakfast."
He rolled his eyes. "Do tell us more about your vast wealth, Miss Rhonda Wellington-Lloyd."
When she yelled and threw her hands up in surrender, he knew he'd won.
"I'll wait here," he chirped.
"You do that," she growled before grabbing clothes from her suitcase and slamming the door of the toilet. She could hear his laugh once she was inside.
…
It had been a blessing in disguise.
She knew that if she didn't come down to breakfast with him they had to hunt down a café outside of the hotel and she simply didn't have the energy for it. Not yet. It was such a shame because it was a gorgeous day. Their table, which was situated near the glass windows, was lit up by the early morning Italian sun.
She speared her chunks of fruit and stared at it. The cantaloupe and melon were lovely to gaze at with their pastel colours.
"I'm sooooo tired. Is this normal?"
Rhonda hated the whine in her voice but it can't be helped.
"The jet lag? Yeah, you'll get over it in a few days, sugar."
"Don't call me sugar," she said, reaching for her white coffee cup. Rhonda was not ready for that kind of endearment.
He snickered. "No, I mean sugar? Do you want some? You're drinking extremely bitter coffee right now. If I wanted to give you a pet name, it would be something more unique."
She noticed the sugar canister in his hand and felt like a dumbass. She grabbed it and poured some in her cup. "Thanks, pumpkin," she replied. It'll be a great sport to play. She was in a sparring mood. He always put her in such a mood. They've always treated such conversations as games. A chance to better each other.
"Pumpkin? I was thinking more on the lines of smoochy bear or cuppycakes."
"Banana muffin or honey bunch is where it's at."
"Booboo," he said, not even glancing up from his newspaper. Of course, he could read Italian too. What an asshole.
"Kitten whiskers," she snapped back without missing a beat.
"Lollipop."
"Babydoll,"
"Gumdrop," he looked up.
"Cuddle bunch," she fired back, placing her fists on the table.
"Cuddle bunch? Aren't you just my wittle cutie patootie?" he said, making a face that was meant for babies.
The last one made her laugh but she wasn't quitting. "Aw, stop it, baby cakes."
He made a swipe for another pancake on their shared platter and doused it with a ton of maple syrup.
"Angel bun, you're so sweet you might get diabetes," she said in a warning tone.
He put a hand on his heart. "Your concern for me is touching, baby butt."
"Baby butt? Now you're just making shit up," she said, buttering a scone. She had completely given up on the fruit since she was beginning to feel quite hungry.
"Weren't they all made up?" he asked, stuffing a bit of pancake in his mouth.
"Nah, I've actually heard couples call each other some of those names before.
"That's disgusting," he said, taking another maple syrup-drenched bite of his pancake.
"Says the guy eating pure sugar. But hey, who are we to judge?"
He nodded. "Of course. You're right, horse face."
She patted his arm, "I always am, jiggle butt."
…
Rhonda had changed. Of course, she could still be a pain in the ass and was still slightly conceited but there was something different about her. Maybe it was the city that was making her feel freer or it was the year in college.
There was an air of independence and certainty about her. As if she didn't need anyone's approval anymore. It was such a stark contrast to what she was in high school. A social chameleon who wanted to be loved by everyone. But this, this woman who was laughing so loudly others were looking, who was fighting him with her words with such sass was the Rhonda that he knew laid inside. The way she made him laugh aroused the shit out of him. It scared him too.
Scared how, in a only a short time, he'd grown to love her company so much that he felt a little empty at the end of the day, when he had to spend his night alone in his hotel room. It had been three days since he came crashing into her life and from then on, since the lunch on the first day, they had spent all their meals together.
Not that they were together all the time. She would sneak off to art museums and then call him to meet for gelato. He would hang out at the restaurant and talk to Alfredo about things that he needed to settle. That was why he was in Italy anyway. To work out issues. To take a breather.
To deal with grief.
He didn't want to reveal that to her. She kept poking around in his business but he's terrified one day he might blab it all out. Then, how would she look at him? With pity? He didn't want that. So he distracted her and took her to cafés. The other night they went to the opera and decided afterwards that although they liked it, they didn't exactly get it and that was alright.
In the day, they lounged by the pool. Her in her red bikini, red was her colour, and him in his navy trunks. He was sitting by the edge, his legs splashing in the water. She was lying down on a recliner, sunglasses perched on her cute nose, a magazine at hand. Rhonda had never been busty, he never minded, but she did have killer legs.
He looked away to stop his disgusting thoughts. They were finally friends. Friends don't ogle each other.
Instead, he focused on the water droplets that clung to the side of her iced drink. It was an incredibly hot day. He was beginning to get a little thirsty.
Not just for drinks.
He groaned. She pulled her glasses down from her eyes.
"I'm sorry, what?" she hollered from where she sat.
"Nothing," he said glumly. He kicked up more water to see how big the ripples could get.
He heard her get up from her chair. A pair of legs appeared beside his, dipping into the pool.
"I know you're bored," she sing-songed.
"Really? Am I that transparent?" he said in a Valley girl accent.
She sighed. "We have to go somewhere today. You're dying in this hotel."
"We've been going out everyday. I'm starting to run out of money."
Rhonda waved a hand. "Bullshit. You're extremely stingy. I have been paying for half of everything. Not that I'm complaining. I think you're just trying to get rid of me."
"Yes. Please go away," he made a shooing motion. "You know, I'm starting to think I'm just a replacement tour guide. I feel a bit unappreciated."
She laughed. "What a baby. And of course you are. My little tour guide. You have to take me to see everything or else I'm not getting my money's worth out of Rome."
"Now who's stingy? Penny pinching heiress. Hire another tour guide. I quit."
She wrapped an arm around him. Oh boy. He gulped.
"On what basis?" she whispered in his ear.
The hairs on the back of his neck stood in attention.
"Conflict of interest," he shot back.
"Conflict of bullshit," she retorted.
He gave her his best threatening glare. She only smirked. "Am I going to get paid if I take you around?"
"Name your price. And your rate. By the day or by the hour?" she said, removing her arm. He immediately missed it but he felt relieved. She still hold such sway over him. Him and his messed up childhood obsessions.
"By the hour. Ten euros."
"Deal."
He couldn't tell if she was serious. Then, he noticed her smile. "You're not really going to pay me, right?"
"And you're not really going to charge me, right?"
"A man could hope, Rhonda. A man could hope to earn 80 euros a day just by tagging an adolescent along." He made a grand gesture with his arms as though he was dramatically upset at the injustice.
She smacked his shoulder. "Hey! Look who's talking. Adolescent my ass. I'm a grown woman."
He did look at her, start seeing her for what she actually was. She wasn't a girl anymore. She's right. She was all woman with her humble and perky breasts and protruding hips. Her milky skin that he itched to caress and the pert bottom he had been quietly observing rising from the pool just yesterday. He felt ambushed by her attractiveness. His nose filled with her fruity scent. His throat clogged with lust.
"Yeah, you are," he said huskily.
Her eyes widened. A soft gasp escaped her lips.
He had shocked her with his reply. Good.
So it was only fitting that he should have expected a face full of water after she pushed him into the pool.
…
He stared at her as if he wanted to devour her. It shot a shocking dose of desire deep in her belly. She had been so taken aback she did the only thing she could think of in a moment of pure panic.
She pushed him. Hard. Into the pool. Well, she had to do something physical to him the alternative would have made matters extremely awkward. Furthermore, she didn't want to spend anymore time thinking about what would happen if their lips touched.
He spent a long time under the surface, just enough to make her worried, before coming up with a wide grin on his face. His dark hair wet and matted to his forehead. It had been longer than when they were in school and the strands framed his eyes seductively. Their brown orbs twinkled from the sunlight refracted by the pool water.
Seductively?
What was going on? Why was she feeling this way? It's so bizarre.
"Can I get that 80 euros now? Cash would be fine," he said like what just happened only existed in her imagination. She didn't imagine that tension, did she?
If she didn't push him, she was so sure she would have grabbed his face and kissed him. Show him how grown up she was.
No. No. Stop thinking about that.
It seemed so unreal. This is Curly. Her manic stalker from childhood. But as she gave a glance at the smiling, handsome, young man in the pool, with a defined torso half-submerged in the water she thought, "So what?"
It was Curly but he was all grown up. Just like her.
She was so spooked she couldn't come up with a witty reply.
"Is ending up in a pool an occupational hazard for all your tour guides?" he asked.
"Only the mouthy and demanding ones," she said, trying to calm herself down. He swam towards her and her panic returned.
He gave her an odd look. "Will you please relax? I just need help getting out of the pool."
"You could just use the ladder," she pointed it out.
"It's on the other side of the pool."
She sighed and stood up. He reached out his hands, she grabbed them. She was going to pull but as soon as they made contact, she felt a hard tug and down she went.
Conniving son of a bitch!
She let out a pathetic yell as she dove in. "Ahhh!"
Her sunglasses flew. There was a large splash. Water ended up in her mouth. As soon as Rhonda sank in the surprisingly cold water, she became disoriented while her eyes adjusted to the chlorine. It burned. Suddenly though, his strong grip pulled her back to the surface.
"You bastard!" she screamed at him as soon as she broke through. She took huge gulps of air, kicking violently to keep herself afloat.
He was laughing at her. She snatched her hands back and scanned the area. They were the only two people in the pool. The young family splashing around earlier had left. Where the hell was the lifeguard? Why wasn't he around?
"I'm going to kill you," she growled. "I swear, Thaddeus. You're a fucking dead man."
He laughed some more but quickly swam away.
"Do you still want to go out now?" he called out.
She did her best to splash his eyes.