The secretary narrows her eyes at you, the clacking on her ancient writing device stopping, snapping her head up from your dry cough.
"Si?" She looks like the stereotypical Italian- curly dark hair, impatient brown eyes, and a mouth set into a tight, firm line. Which wouldn't be ironic at all, since you are in Italy.
"Ah, yes." You search deep into your messenger bag, rapidly retrieving your wallet and passport. All your papers fall to the floor. You smile weakly at her, ignoring her unimpressed stare, scrounging to the floor to pick them up. "I am... visiting, from (y/c), and, I need a room for this... five star hotel, but no one is giving me a key or help." Your eyes wander around the cobwebbed, antique stained hotel lobby, scrunching up your nose. This is not how Craigslist described it on the Internet. You give a breathy laugh to break the tension, but it's as thick as this woman's skull. She blinks.
"LOVINO!" she suddenly shouts, and you almost jump. A handsome man appears at the doorway that could fall apart at any time, clearly annoyed.
"Whaaat?" he asks, rubbing his hazel eyes with balled up fists. His hair is a thick mass of chestnut, a curl sticking out adorably, skin tone olive and smooth, attire described as a tanned jumpsuit with a maroon, crisp Italian shirt underneath, complete with a signature tie. Suddenly you don't mind being at the crappy hotel. You flash him a white grin, but he does no gesture to return it.
"Questa ragazza vuole restare qui," she tells him. You run into your mind, remembering the Italian classes you took. This girl wants to stay here. The man shakes his head.
"Tu sai che questo non è nemmeno un vero hotel, Antoinetta. È impossibile." You know this isn't even a real hotel, Antonietta. It's impossible. Your left eye twitches.
"What?! This isn't even a real hotel?"
You drop your baggage, counting to ten before you become a twitching disaster. "Then I want my money back!"
Lovino sighs, and you take back what you said about how attractive he was. "We can't do that."
You unclench, then clench, then unclench your fists. "Why?"
"Abbiamo speso essa," Antoinetta answers plainly.
"WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU SPENT IT? ON WHAT?"
She points to the typewriter, a happy smile on her face, like spending your money was the greatest investment ever. You reach over the ratty old desk, attempting to strangle her. Lovino comes from behind you quickly, dragging you away from Antoinetta and her, "DEMONE! DEMONE!" screams. He picks you up, swinging you across his back. You punch his shoulders, trying to get lose, but his grip is strong. He walks through traffic, still carrying you, as the cars stop just for him. A man cranes his neck out the window, yelling horrible things at your new friend.
"Andare all'inferno!" Lovino replies back at him, smirking.
"Why did you tell him to go to hell?"
"Because." And that is that.
He seems to be walking for hours, even though the reality is twenty minutes. Finally, he stops at a yellow clapboarded house, bright and cheery.
"My brother and I live here... you can stay until you go back to wherever you came from."
You squint your eyes at him suspiciously, then to the house, then back to him. "What's the catch?"
He rolls his pretty orbs. "Niente. I'm just being nice." You wonder if being nice involves sleeping with him. Hastily, you pick up your luggage, opening the door to his cozy little home. It has a natural smell of pasta. You scan the room, looking for his sibling.
"My brother's not here," Lovino explains, and you get more suspicious. Lazily, he walks to the couch, hopping onto it with a yawn. You put your hands on your hips.
"How do I know you're not a murderer?" you question, trying to look intimidating. He just chuckles.
"Because I'm not."
"But I don't know that. You could kill me in my sleep for all I know."
He glances at you, annoyed, flipping on the TV. "I won't," he answers calmly.
You won't give it a rest. "What if you do something you make me wonder if I'm safe here?"
He lets out a low huff, springing up from the green couch. "Does this make you feel unsafe?" he asks, and before you know it, his lips wrap around yours. It happens so quickly, you almost don't understand what's going on. His kiss is kind, sweet... and completely out of the blue. Any normal and/or sane woman would slap his face so hard, it'd leave a permanent mark. Needless to say, you came to Italy as an open-minded girl, looking for adventure, and you've found it. Bravely, you let his tongue in your mouth, wrestling with yours. In the end, he wins, and pushes you away after a good four minutes, breathing heavily.
You know your face is red, so you scamper up his furnished stairs, dropping your luggage onto the creaky bed of a pale blue room. You softly feel the wallpaper, tiny angels dancing with golden harps, and feel safe.