Preaching to the Choir

by Kitty Parker

  "You know," Eden commented thoughtfully. "I never thought that particular stereotype was true before I came here."

  "What stereotype?" I asked.

  "That Italian men are ridiculously horny," Jane clarified.

  "Oh, that one."

  I shivered a bit, mentally berating myself for not taking along my jacket as Mutti had suggested. Someone once told me, and I quote, "Rome in the summertime is a punishment." Whoever said that obviously had shit for brains. That was how I felt at the moment, at least. Instead of the sweltering heat I'd expected, the day was chilly, cloudy, and windy, the threat of precipitation lingering ominously in the air.

  Waiting in line to get into the Coliseum wasn't exactly the best activity for keeping warm, either. Our large group probably would have been inside already if it hadn't been for those idiotic underclassmen who'd wandered off over in the forum. We'd been forced to stand around for half an hour while they found their way back.

  A particularly strong gust of wind sent a chill throughout my body. "It should NOT be this cold," I protested.

  "Here, I'll loan you my body heat." Jane attached herself to my side.

  I smirked. "Do I have to pay interest on it?"

  "GROUP HUDDLE!" Bryce exclaimed, bouncing over and engulfing us in his arms, yanking Eden and Brigid in with him.

  Although being squashed in the middle of a friendly pile-up (which happened to be gaining more people as the minutes ticked by) wasn't the most comfortable position in the world, it did help to insulate me against the wind. It didn't really matter to me that I could see nothing but the fabric of a couple of different sweatshirts.

  "Dude, why are we doing this?" questioned an Elliot-like voice.

  "For warmth, now shut up!" snapped Jane.

  The chest I was pressed against vibrated as Bryce chuckled. "We probably look incredibly stupid."

  "We are attracting a lot of tourist attention," someone who sounded rather like Adam confirmed.

  "Screw them," spat Brigid.

  "It'll probably warm up a bit when the sun comes out."

  Well, that was easy for Eden to say. Not all of us were blessed with her optimism. For all we knew, it might have started sleeting instead.

  * * *

  It didn't sleet. It hailed.

  We had finally gotten inside the Coliseum and were standing out on a ledge looking down into the erstwhile arena when hailstones the size of marbles began to rain down on us. It felt as though God, for some bizarre practical joke, had taken to pelting us with rocks.

  "Ow!" I yelped as a particularly large little bugger hit me smack in the middle of my forehead. I threw my arms up over my head, trying in vain to ward off the onslaught of ice pellets.

  My female companions began to shriek along with me. The boys simply blurted out various profanities - some of them completely made up (schneikifriggum, a lovely creation of Matt's, for instance) and others all too familiar (these require no further explanation) - instead. I supposed that they were attempting to be "manly."

  "TAKE COVER!" Bryce bellowed dramatically, chucking the entire concept of "macho" behavior out the window. He bolted for the shelter of the corridor that ringed the arena.

  In an effort to be gallant, Matt whipped off his jacket and held it over Eden's head as he ushered her in the direction that Bryce had gone.

  I barely had time to contemplate how adorable this gesture was due to the fact that something large and powerful had collided with my left side, knocking me to the ground.

  I had been sacked.

  "Kurt, what the hell…?" I began, confused and incredibly startled, as Kurt shifted around on top of me until his body had completely covered mine. When he failed to answer me, I asked in a more direct way. "Kurt, what are you doing?"

  As he finally met my gaze, his hazel eyes widened and a vivid blush adorned his cheeks. It was as though he had only just realized that he had suddenly tackled me for no apparent reason.

  "I was, uh…protecting you from the hail?" he supplied weakly, sounding as if he were explaining his rationale to himself as much as to me.

  "So you…jumped on top of me," I deadpanned.

  He offered me a sheepish smile. "Too much testosterone, I guess."

  "Oh, sure, blame it on the hormones." I rolled my eyes.

  "Well, that's what you do every four weeks when I ask why you're acting sulky and bitching people out at random."

  "Oh, you did not…" I gasped.

  He smirked. "Oh, but I did."

  "I've never talked about...that with you!" I insisted.

  "Maybe not, but that doesn't mean I can't tell when it's going on."

  I was too dumbfounded to come up with an intelligent retort. Instead, I gazed over to my right and noticed Eden watching the interaction between Kurt and I with the utmost curiosity. It was only then that I remembered what a compromising position we were in. I wasn't particularly uncomfortable (Kurt was nice and warm), so it simply hadn't occurred to me.

  I turned my head back to Kurt and cleared my throat. "Well, now that we're done discussing my feminine problems and your failed attempt to join the Chivalry Club, perhaps we should get up. We've already got spectators."

  Kurt sprang to his feet as though I had burned him, taking his body heat with him and leaving me vulnerable to the cold. I shivered involuntarily.

  "You cold?" he asked, helping me to my feet.

  "A bit, yeah," I replied.

  Nodding, Kurt pulled off his "Sumner Varsity Crew" sweatshirt and handed it to me. "Here. I was getting hot, anyway."

  "No way, you'll freeze!" I protested, shoving it back at him. "Besides, it's still hailing and you're wearing short sleeves. You'll get all bruised."

  "No I won't!" He winced as a hailstone hit him in the neck.

  I gave him a skeptical look.

  "Oh, just take the damn thing!" Reaching forward, he pulled the sweatshirt down over my head.

  Stuck inside of the garment, I noticed how familiar it smelled. I inhaled deeply. It was the same scent that lingered on the shirt of his that I still hadn't given back and that I knew he was too embarrassed to ask for. As thoughts of "The Incident" invaded my mind, I hastily pulled the sweatshirt the rest of the way on. The two of us had been doing a fairly good job so far of acting normal (minus the whole tackling bit), and I wanted nothing to compromise that.

  Attempting to dispel the feeling of awkwardness that was beginning to come over me, I made light of the situation. I looked at Kurt, stroking my chin thoughtfully. "Perhaps you can join the Chivalry Club after all," I joked. "I'll have to give the matter a bit of thought."

  He gave me a mock bow. "Why, thank you, m'lady. I'm honored. Now let's get out of this hail."

  Grabbing my hand, he dragged me into the corridor. As I passed Eden, she raised an eyebrow at me. I shrugged, feigning nonchalance.

  Huddling together and looking out over the Coliseum, our little group watched as the hail continued to fall from the steely gray sky.

  "This is whack…" Brigid trailed off, shaking her head incredulously.

  Adam nodded as Elliot murmured his assent.

  They had a point. I mean, hail in Rome? What the hell?

  "So when the weather finishes up being crappy, do you guys want to go for some lunch?" Eden suggested.

  Bryce's stomach growled loudly in response.

  "Lunch it is, then!" Jane chuckled.

  We waited patiently as the clouds overhead hailed themselves out. About fifteen minutes later, when the storm had all but stopped, we headed out of the Coliseum and down a nearby street in search of food. It was still fairly windy and cold, and I wrapped my arms around myself as I walked, incredibly thankful for the dark green, familiar-smelling, cozy sweatshirt that a certain someone had lent me.

  Speaking of certain someones…

  "Lotte, I'm cold. Can I share your body heat?" Kurt draped an arm over my shoulder and pulled me into his side.

  "Kurt," I warned, giving him a look. It wasn't that I was unc
omfortable or anything. Quite the contrary, actually. I rather thought that I molded into him quite nicely. The whole situation was just sort of awkward.

  He gazed at me innocently. "You wouldn't just let me freeze, would you? Especially after I gave you my sweatshirt and all…"

  Okay, this was just getting weird. After what had happened, Kurt being all touchy-feely was the last thing I had expected.

  Interpreting the message I was attempting to send him with my eyes correctly, he leaned closer into me. "What happens in Berlin stays in Berlin, right?" he whispered.

  "Er…" I replied, mentally berating myself for my lack of eloquence.

  "We're acting normal, right?"

  "Er…right."

  "Good." He straightened up to his full height of 6'2" (I seriously looked like a midget next to him with my meager 5'4" stature).

  I felt someone poke me in the side. As I turned around, my eyes locked with Eden's. We'd been best friends for eleven years, and somewhere along the way, we'd developed (maybe) the ability (sort of) to communicate telepathically (ish). Although our silent messaging was often fuzzy and confusing, this time I was able to read her loud and clear. She was sending me the strongest and most pointed "EXPLAIN" vibes that were humanly possible.

  I attempted to send "It's a long story and I promise I'll tell you about it later" vibes back to her. They must have been pretty weak, though, as she just contorted her face in a rather confused manner.

  "This place looks alright," Luke announced, stopping suddenly in front of a small restaurant.

  Shrugging and mumbling indifferently, we followed him inside. After a moment of us simply standing around awkwardly, a waitress meandered over casually and began babbling at us in Italian. She looked at us expectantly, waiting for a reply.

  Realizing that no one in our group wanted to be the first to look like a clichéd American tourist by asking her to speak English, I took the initiative. "Er…table for ten, please?"

  She glared at me as though I had somehow sullied her restaurant with my foreign tongue. "Oh, right," she muttered unenthusiastically, grabbing a stack of menus and heading over to a group of tables off to the left side of the front door. She shoved a bunch of them together to accommodate us, the plopped the menus carelessly in the middle.

  Adam raised an eyebrow as we arranged ourselves around the pseudo-long table. "What was that all about?" he asked quietly as the waitress sauntered away, giving me a rather scathing look over her shoulder.

  Matt chuckled. "I don't think she likes Lotte."

  "What did Ido?" I whined.

  Nobody had an answer for that one.

  "She's probably just a bitch with an extra-long piece of Italian sausage shoved up her-"

  "Jane," Eden cut her off quickly, noticing the waitress returning with a pad and a pen.

  "You want something to drink?" she asked - okay, more like demanded - in a thick Italian accent.

  Going around the table, we placed our beverage orders. I settled for water, requesting some lime to squeeze into it as well. As the waitress - who did not have a nametag and whom I therefore referred to as Bitcha Bellagio - headed off toward what I assumed was the kitchen, the front door of the restaurant suddenly blew open, letting in a gust of chilly air. I shivered as Bryce leapt up to shut it.

  "What're you going to get?" asked Eden, who was seated on my left.

  "I'm not sure," I answered, perusing the menu. "I'm thinking about the caprese salad, though. You know how I love mozzarella."

  She giggled. "Yeah, and that's the only kind of cheese you'll eat unless it's in something else!"

  I pouted. "Not true! I eat cream cheese on bagels all the time!"

  "That so doesn't count." Jane chimed in from her seat across the table.

  "Does too!" I argued.

  "Does not!" she countered.

  "Does too!"

  "Does not!" This time, Jane was joined by both Eden and Kurt (who was seated on my right) in refuting my point.

  I sent them each an individual glare.

  "Dude," laughed Brigid. "Why do you care so much? It's freaking cheese, for crying out loud!"

  She had a point, I had to admit. There was nothing I could really say to justify myself.

  "Let's just drop it," Kurt suggested. "Besides, it's a lovable quirk." He gave me a nudge in the ribs.

  Act normal, Lotte, I reminded myself as the bizarre squirmy feelings that accompanied awkwardness made themselves manifest in my stomach. Just stay cool.

  "Um, er…thanks," I stuttered, absolutely certain that I didn't sound "normal"in any way whatsoever. "So what're you getting, Ede?" I hastily changed the subject.

  "Matt and I are splitting a mushroom pizza," she replied, fondly patting the knee of the boy sitting on her left. He beamed at her, pressing a kiss to her temple. They really did make such an adorable couple.

  "Alright, guys," Bryce suddenly announced, attempting to get the attention of the whole table. "I think we should come up with a game plan for what we're going to do after we eat. Does anyone have a map?"

  Elliot dug a small one that he'd gotten in our hotel lobby out of his pocket. "Here."

  "Awesome." Bryce grabbed a crayon from the bunch that had been set aside in a cup for children and began to mark locations. "We were here…" he muttered. "Then we came down this street…and now we're here…I think. Right." He looked up at the rest of us. "Now where do you all want to go?"

  Before we could make suggestions, Bitcha Bellagio came back with our drinks to take our orders. I noted that she went out of her way to take mine last, and that she had conveniently "forgotten" to put limes in my water. I decided not to press the matter, though. It really wasn't worth my time and energy.

  "Back to the plan," Bryce began when Bitcha Bellagio had retreated to the kitchen. He was interrupted again, however, as the front door blew open for the second time.

  "Stupid door," Elliot grumbled, getting up to shut it.

  "Maybe the latch is broken," Eden suggested.

  "Back to the plan," Bryce repeated. Though he could be a bit of a spaz (loveable, of course) on a regular basis, when he was a man with a mission, there was no stopping him. "So, suggestions for where we should go?"

  "The Circus Maximus," suggested Luke.

  "Dude, I've seen that thing," Brigid replied. "It's just a big, empty field with a ring of gravel around it. How about the Trevi Fountain?"

  "I think we're going to see that as a group on Thursday or something," Adam pointed out. "I, personally, would like to see St. Peter's Basilica. You know, the Vatican."

  I felt Eden tense beside me. As an Episcopalian, she'd always sort of kept her distance from the Catholic Church. Besides, I was sure that she had a mild case of papaphobia. Translation: the Pope freaked her out.

  Wanting to protect my best friend from Benedict XVI, I spoke up. "I don't know, that place makes me sort of nervous. The guards are pretty intimidating. My brother went once on a spring break trip, and he told me that one of them basically gave him a death-ray glare when he sneezed."

  My friends all chuckled appreciatively at my little anecdote.

  "The only part of the Vatican I'd be interested in is the Sistine Chapel," Kurt added. "And I'm pretty sure that we're all going to see that on Monday."

  "I'd like to see the Piazza Navona." Eden reached over her boyfriend to point to a place on the map. Bryce circled it.

  "So would I," I agreed.

  "I came here once with my parents when I was twelve," Matt began. "And I remember that there's a really fantastic view from this street up near the top of the Spanish Steps." He squinted at the map for a minute. "Here it is!" he proclaimed triumphantly. "Viale Trinità dei Monti."

  Bryce circled that as well.

  "That sounds good," Elliot chimed in. "I'd like to see the Spanish Steps anyway."

  The front door suddenly blew open again.

  "What the hell is wrong with this thing?" Brigid exclaimed as she jumped up to shut it. "Seriously, it's gettin
g freezing in here because this stupid door won't stay the hell shut!" With a dramatic sigh of frustration, she sat back down.

  At that moment, Bitcha Bellagio sauntered out of the kitchen, two large, round trays balanced on each of her palms. As much as I thought she was a bitch, I had to hand it to her: she had great balancing skills.

  "Pizza Margherita," she listed, setting a large cheese pizza down between Jane and Brigid. "Pizza Funghi," she went on, placing Eden and Matt's meal in front of them.

  I resisted the urge to make a wisecrack about the name of their pizza sounding so similar to "fungi." I knew that my joke would not be appreciated at mealtime.

  The rest of my tablemates received their food: an individual-sized Pizza Quattro Formaggi (four cheese pizza) for Bryce, a large Pizza Viennese (basically pizza with German sausage) for Luke and Elliot, some weird sort of pasta dish for Adam, and an individual Pizza Capricciosa (capricious pizza…literally) for Kurt. I thought that the last was all too appropriate, considering the manner in which Kurt had been acting lately: completely unpredictable and bizarre.

  My friends politely waited for me to receive my caprese salad (which, when I thought about it, really should have been ready before anything else, considering that it didn't need to be cooked) before eating. We all sort of knew that Bitcha Bellagio had served me last on purpose, though we had no idea why.

  "Alright, she's getting the smallest tip that it's possible to leave while still being reasonably polite," Bryce announced as soon as our waitress had left and was out of earshot.

  "Hear, hear," Jane agreed, lifting her glass in a toast-like manner.

  Kurt put his arm around my shoulders and gave me a squeeze. "No one's rude to our Lotte and gets away with it."

  "How do you say 'bitch' in German, Lotte?" asked Bryce. "Like, scholoem or something?"

  I snorted with laughter. Leave it to Bryce to make bitchy waitresses seem comical.

  * * *

  "So," Bryce began matter-of-factly as our group of ten exited the restaurant. "Here's the deal: we're going to wind up making a loop around the northern end of the city." He opened up the map, upon which he had drawn various little blue lines, circles, and squiggles. "We're down here by the Coliseum -" he pointed to a spot on Via dei Santi Quattro "- so we can walk up this street -" he traced his finger north along Via Claudia "- then keep going up on this street past all the old ruins -" he moved along Via dei Fori Imperiali "- and go up this street -" his finger continued up Via del Corso "- all the way up to Via Condotti, then we take a right and the Spanish steps should be about a block away. Then if we go up them, we'll get to that street that Matt was talking about. It'll be a great photo opportunity."