AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I’m pretty sure I told you that I don’t share. So if you want to spend time with me, you’ll need to leave all your little girlfriends at home.”
Standing before him, I type into my phone:
Trattoria Ballaro. 7pm.
“If you’re interested, now you know where to find me.” I smirk as I send the text and continue walking down the street. Calling back to him over my shoulder, I tease, “I would prefer not to see you following me for the rest of the day.”
“Ciao,bella,” he calls, but I faintly hear the words as I turn the corner at the end of the block and pull open the door to Baci Boutique. No time like the present to buy something new for tonight.
Now… what screams you’re going to want to fuck me? But I’m going to kill you instead?
RICHARD
I’ve flown internationally before, but this one was brutal. I knew the airfare was too good to be true. I can’t blame the pilot or airline for the turbulence, the woman next to me with the crying child and the too small seats have made this the worst flight I’ve ever been on. Two layovers is too many, especially when it means you’ve taken a full day of travel. I’m fucking exhausted, yet at the same time I’m excited to be here.
I disembark, met with clouds of cigarette smoke that I’m not accustomed to living in California. Granted, there’s no smoking in the airport but it wafts off the clothes of passengers ready to board the next flight. The tobacco is sweeter than back home, making it a little more tolerable.
I take out my phone and pull up my language lessons application.
“Hello… Ciao. Where is the bathroom?... Dove sono i servizi… In Italian, there are multiple ways to ask for a toilet or restroom, depending on the company you’re with…”
Fuck. There’s more than one way to ask to take a piss. I didn’t think this through. Hopefully I don’t offend too many people here and am able to brush up on enough of the language to get around.
After an hour in customs—and seventy-eight phrases learned later—I make my way to the exit. Between the tourists bustling around me, families greeting one another, customs taking forever…Maybe I should’ve had Stephan join me for a week?It’s going to be lonely exploring another country without someone to enjoy it with.
I have a short walking tour as well as a winery tour scheduled for today. Drinking while dehydrated isn’t the best idea, so I move the wine tasting and tour out until tomorrow while waiting for a taxi. While they are in abundance, so are the eager travelers.
As I’m getting in the cab, my phone pings with a notification that I accidentally canceled my walking tour reservation. While reading the email, the driver says a few things in Italian that I don’t understand.
“Un momento per favore,” I manage.
He groans and I pull up my translation app, type in the location of the hotel. I’ll drop off my bag and walk to the infamous Juliet’s Balcony where my tour is supposed to begin. He shakes his head and begins driving. Unlike taxis back home, I’m not entirely sure if there’s a speed limithere as he weaves in and out of the narrow lanes, nearly hitting several cyclists.
After thirty minutes of praying for my life, we arrive, thankfully unscathed. I stumble out of the taxi, feeling a bit of motion sickness, and when I get my footing, walk through the small plaza to the hotel.
“Six nights?” the receptionist asks, and I’m pleased to find the hotel staff, or at least the front desk staff, speak English.
“Yes, thank you,” I reply, handing her my credit card.
“Not nearly enough time in Verona,” she teases, clicking away at her computer.
I shrug. “Probably not, but I’m in Italy for six weeks, and want to see all of it.”
“Well, if you needanythingwhile you’re here, let me know.” Her tone seems flirtatious, but it could just be the accent making me read into things.
“Great, I’m actually looking for the best place in town for pasta.”
“There isn’t an easy answer to that,” she laughs. “But I can give you mypersonalfavorite.” Her tongue lightly grazes her lip and there’s no mistake this woman is flirting with me. I’d flirt back for fun, but I don’t want to risk getting kicked out of the hotel for hitting on the staff. While she’s beautiful, she’s not exactly my type.
“That would be great”—I glanceat her name tag—“Andrea.”
She jots down something on a small piece of hotel stationary and passes it to me with my credit card. “Enjoy.”
I put my card away, fold the stationary in half, and stuff it in my pocket. I make my way to my room, drop off my luggage, and head out to see Juliet’s House.
So far, Verona is exactly how I imagined it. There’s cobblestone streets in the small plaza, tourists on every corner snapping photos, restaurants and cafes full of chattering guests, and even the faint smell of the canal that’s not too far away. I take in the sights and sounds, expecting a great reveal when I reach the balcony of all balconies. I’m met with an old thirteenth century building that, while beautiful, feels… underwhelming. I’m not sure what I expected, but it wasn’t this. It could be the movies and plays that portrayed it as something more grandiose, this is just like any other balcony I’ve seen.
With a disappointed sigh, there’s still a chance I can catch the walking tour. I check to see where they might be meeting up, finding nothing resembling a tour group. The closest match is seven older women who’ve had one too many glasses of wine. If this is it, it’s a blessing I accidentally canceled.
