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"Filia! Wait!" he shouts after me. But I don't stop, I march out the front door, the bell jingling behind me.
The bright sunlight blinds me for a moment as I step out onto the street. I can feel my chest heaving with anger and hurt as I take deep breaths, trying to calm myself down. How could Marco be so insensitive? Did he really think I was unaware of my own financial situation?
As I stand there, lost in thought and anger, I feel a gentle hand on my shoulder. I turn around to see Marco, looking contrite, holding out a crepe to me. "I'm sorry," he says softly. "I didn't mean to hurt you. Please, take the crepe. I promise I won't bring up money again."
I'm still angry, but the smell of the crepe in his hand is too much to resist. I take it from him and take a tentative bite, closing my eyes as the flavors explode in my mouth. It's delicious. "Okay," I say, my voice softer now. "I'll eat it. But only because I don't want it to go to waste."
He smiles slightly at my pouting bravado. "Of course. Wasting food is a sin."
I shrug and follow Marco back inside the shop. We sit back at the same table as before and I glance out the window, at the way the sunlight is catching on the spire of a nearby cathedral.
"It's beautiful. The architecture, the food, the people." Waiting a beat, I sigh. "I'm having a good time with you. I have to stop pretending this isn't a problem, though. Can I really lean on your generosity for a week until flight prices come down?"
"Of course. I already said as much." He licks Nutella off his thumb. I watch, wishing it was me he was caressing with his tongue. He snaps his eyes to me. Hope he doesn't read my mind. "You know, I wonder why you haven't asked me to buy you a ticket home. I'd do it, if you preferred."
I screw my face up. "I considered it, but it felt worse than just crashing in the room you already paid for. Here's the thing, Marco. I might not have a job or cash but I do have pride." I take a huge bite of my crepe, talking through a full mouth. "Iff waff to payyff youff baff."
"You what?"
Swallowing, I wipe my lips. "I want to pay you back. Every cent you spend, I've been tracking. What I can, anyway. Gelato, crepes, those were easy. I have no idea what you spent to buy me these." I gesture at my outfit.
Marco perks up. "That reminds me." Finishing his crepe, he stands, tossing he wrapper in a garbage can. I copy him, wondering what's gotten into his head. "Come on. This way."
"Where are we off to now?"
"You'll see," he chuckles, enjoying his secret.
I step inside the classy boutique; music is playing softly in the background, and the air is heavy with a perfumed scent. The room is filled with racks upon racks of long, flowing dresses, loose pants, classy blouses, and more shoes than I can count.
My eyes widen in awe as I take in the beautiful pieces of clothing around me.
"Wow," I breathe out. "This is amazing." I would never have expected this abundance of gorgeous apparel from the modest entryway.
"I thought you might like it," Marco says, a smile on his lips. "You need more clothing if you're going to be here with me for a week."
I glance at the nearest dress, run my hands down the soft fabric, untilI find the tag dangling from the bottom of a billowy sleeve. My eyes bulge at the price. "544 euros? Isn't that almost 600 dollars?"
"Correct. You're learning lots about Italy already, Filia."
"Marco! Don't joke, these prices are insane! I can't own a dress that costs more than half my rent!"
"Of course not," he agrees solemnly. I let out a relieved breath. "You'll need four or five."
The wind is pulled out of me. I slump on the spot. There's a clicking sound––tall heels, and I see a beautiful, model-esque woman weave her way towards us through the racks.
"Ciao!" she gushes. "What are we buying today?"
"Nothing," I say.
"Whatever she wants," he says over me.
The woman smiles brightly, her eyes scanning me up and down. "Well, we have some beautiful pieces in the new collection. Let me show you." She takes my arm and leads me to a rack filled with flowy summer dresses in pastel colors. I can feel Marco's eyes on me as the woman pulls out a dress and holds it up to me.
"This would look stunning on you," she says, her eyes glinting with excitement.
I hesitate, looking at the price tag. I can't let Marco spend so much money on me. "I don't know," I say, my voice wavering.
"It's settled," Marco says firmly. "She'll take it."
