by Kitty Parker
I noted the evil glint in his eye as he directed that last statement at me.
"Sounds good to me," agreed Matt.
"Ditto," Eden chimed in.
"Any objections?" Bryce inquired.
There were none.
He grinned. "Great. In that case, we should start off, but I think that first we should come up with a system to make sure that we don't get separated."
I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, why don't we just handcuff ourselves together?" I suggested sarcastically.
Bryce chose to ignore my snarky remark. "Let's count off. We all have a number, and then we just randomly count off every once in a while to make sure that everyone's there."
I thought that this idea was completely stupid, but I went along with it simply because no one else seemed to have a problem.
"Alright then." Bryce pointed at each of us in turn. "I'll be one, Eden, you're two, Matt's three, Lotte's four, five is Kurt, six is Adam, seven's Jane, Luke's eight, Brigid's nine, and Elliot's ten."
"Let's have a group name!" Brigid giggled, thinking the entire situation completely hilarious.
"Team Emu!" exclaimed Bryce.
Nine pairs of eyes turned to stare at him as though he were clinically insane.
"What?" he questioned, indignant. "Emus are cool!"
"We're just going to pretend that we never heard that," Jane deadpanned.
"You guys are no fun!" Brigid whined.
"No," Elliot objected. "We're definitely fun. We're just not dorks."
Bryce gave him an are-you-completely-insane look. "Yes we are. Elliot, you still sleep on sheets with little astronauts and aliens all over them."
That shut Elliot up. It also made him turn a lovely shade of crimson.
Matt cleared his throat, saving his friend from further embarrassment. "Right then. Off we go." Linking his arm with Eden's, he led the way down the street, the rest of us straggling along behind him.
"Let's count off!" Bryce exclaimed.
"Bryce, we're not even a block away from the restaurant," I pointed out. "I'm pretty sure that we haven't lost anyone yet."
"I know," he admitted. "I just want to practice. ONE!"
"Two," Eden replied good-naturedly.
Matt kissed the top of his girlfriend's head. "Three."
I rolled my eyes. "Four."
"Five," Kurt added unenthusiastically.
There was a moment of silence.
"ADAM!" snapped Bryce.
"What?" he asked, having zoned out. "Oh, six."
"Seven," sighed Jane.
"Eight," Luke mumbled.
"Nine," chirped Brigid with more enthusiasm than the rest of us combined.
"Ten," Elliot grumbled.
"And Team Emu is all here!" Bryce proudly proclaimed.
Kurt and I shared an eye-roll as we turned onto Via Claudia.
We passed by the Coliseum on our left, and I thought back to the random ninja move that Kurt had pulled inside. Could that really be blamed on testosterone, or was Kurt starting to get loopy? Perhaps he'd merely had too much caffeine that morning.
Lost in my own thoughts, I was hardly paying attention to where I was walking. It was no surprise, then, that as our little group turned onto Via dei Fori Imperiali, I crashed right into a vendor pushing a cart selling Italian sausage. I apologized profusely, of course, but the little man apparently didn't speak any English, judging by his drawn-out rant in Italian (complete with fist-shaking and finger-wagging). My supposed friends looked on and laughed themselves silly, and Kurt wound up buying a piece of sausage just to calm the still-fuming vendor down. Satisfied with his two euros, the man shot me one last nasty glare, then continued pushing his cart toward the plaza outside of the Coliseum.
Relieved, I turned to Kurt and smiled. "Thanks."
"No problem," he replied, pausing to take a bite of his sausage. He chewed for a moment, then swallowed. "This is actually pretty good. Just try not to be such a spaz next time, okay?"
"I am not a spaz!" I gasped, shoving him.
He shoved me back. "Are too!"
"Am not!"
"Are too!"
Jane stepped between us, shoving us apart. "How old are you guys again? Seriously, you're starting to remind me of how you were in second grade. That's just sad."
"We were just messing around, Jane," I insisted.
She rolled her eyes. "Whatever you say, Lotte."
Finished with our little drama, we continued onward past the ruins of the forum and the senate.
"It's pretty cool to think that, once upon a time, Socrates was standing over there giving speeches," Eden commented.
"And that Caesar was stabbed there," added Matt.
Eden raised an eyebrow at him. "Why are men always so intrigued by violence?"
"Cause…it's interesting?" he replied.
She frowned. "It's horrible!"
"Trouble in paradise?" I muttered.
Kurt chuckled. "Just a playful lovers' quarrel. It's part of a healthy relationship."
"You think so?" I inquired, turning to him. "Not that I disagree or anything."
He nodded. "I do think so. Besides, it adds some spice to romance, doesn't it?" He gave me a nudge.
I wrinkled up my nose in distaste. "I hate fighting."
"But you fight with me all the time," he pointed out.
He had a point. "Uh…" I hesitated, trying to come up with an explanation. "Well, that's, er…different."
He cocked his head to the side. "How so?"
I really had no idea how to phrase what I was thinking. "Well, it's…us," I began. "And we're not…you know…"
"Oh," he sighed with what I could have sworn was a note of dejection in his voice. "Right."
I turned my gaze to the ground. "Yeah."
There was an uncomfortable pause.
"We're not fighting as much as we used to, though," I pointed out, attempting to bring a note of optimism into the discussion.
"I guess," he conceded. "But it's not like we don't have…you know…problems…"
He didn't need to elaborate. We both knew exactly what he was talking about.
Eden and Matt had apparently reached some sort of understanding, for as we turned onto Via del Corso, one of the main drags through Rome, he had looped his arm around her waist.
"You have to admit that it would be creepy if a couple agreed on everything all the time, though," Kurt commented, reverting back to our earlier topic of conversation.
"Oh, definitely," I agreed, grateful for the subject change. "I didn't mean that they should share a brain. I just think that arguing strains a relationship. They could just agree to disagree."
Kurt raised an eyebrow at me. "But where's the fun in that?"
"COUNT OFF!" Bryce bellowed.
I groaned. It was going to be a long walk.
* * *
"Team Emu! Assemble!"
Eden's eyes darted from side to side "Bryce, people are staring…"
"Don't care!" he sang, yanking her over to where he stood at the base of the Spanish Steps.
The rest of our group shuffled grudgingly toward him.
"Bryce, we're sorry, but not all of us are as physically fit as you are," Jane pointed out. "I'm sure that walking halfway across Rome is nothing for a football star like you, but the rest of us are going to need a break."
As I looked around at my friends, I silently agreed with Jane. We were all pretty winded from our trek. Aside from Bryce, the only exceptions were Luke, a soccer forward, and Kurt, due to the stamina he'd built up from rowing.
"C'mon, guys," Bryce whined. "There aren't that many steps."
I shook my head. "Sorry, sweetie, but I need to sit down."
Eden plunked herself down on the bottom step. "Ditto."
The rest of our friends followed suit.
"Fine," Bryce groaned. "We can have a five-minute break."
"Who died and made you dictator?" Brigid snapped.
"Mussolini?" he suggested.
Elliot's head practically spun off his shoulders as he looked around frantically. "Dude, we're in freaking Italy," he whispered harshly. "Don't talk about him here! Are you trying to get shot or something?"
I rolled my eyes, highly doubting that anyone who might overhear us would actually care if Bryce mentioned Mussolini. Elliot was just paranoid.
"Alright then," Bryce replied. "How about Castro?"
"Still alive and kicking," Adam pointed out.
"Hitler?"
Eden cleared her throat and jerked her head in my direction, though I didn't really care. Bryce wasn't exactly being malicious.
"Khrushchev?"
No one could come up with any objections to the notorious shoe-banger in the name of political correctness, so we left it at that.
Luke stood up. "Alright, now that we've settled on a dictator, let's head up the steps."
There was a collective groan as my friends reluctantly began to stand up.
I, however, did not budge. My shoe had been rubbing against the side of my foot all day, making the area sting.
"I don't want to move," I protested. "I've got a blister. You all go ahead. I'll just stay here."
Kurt looked at me incredulously. "Like hell we're leaving you alone in the middle of a city!"
I rolled my eyes. "I'm a big girl, Kurt."
"That you are, but you're not going to get raped on my watch." So saying, he calmly made his way over to me and bent down. "Get on."
I gave him a confused look. "Kurt, what are you doing?"
"Giving you a piggy-back ride," he answered.
"Oh. Thanks." Smiling gratefully, I climbed onto his back. I did want to see the view from the top of the hill, after all. I just didn't want to climb up there myself.
Kurt straightened up, his arms looped firmly under my thighs, sending a shiver up my spine.
"Alright then," Bryce began. "Let's go."
We started up the Spanish Steps. They began as one wide flight, stopped at a sort of large landing, then split in two, coming together again at the top in front of Trinità dei Monti, the famous church that sat atop the hill.
"Kurt, are you alright?" I asked. "I'm not hurting you, am I?"
He hitched me up further on his back. "Is that some sort of trick question to see whether or not I think you're fat?"
I laughed at the sheer absurdity of the question. "No, I'm serious."
"I'm fine," he answered. "And for the record, I don't think you're fat."
"Well, thanks," I chuckled, even though I didn't particularly care. I didn't think I was "fat" either.
When we finally reached the top of the steps and climbed a shorter set up to Viale Trinità dei Monti, the street that went along the crest of the hill behind the church, I asked Kurt to put me down.
"But I like giving you piggy-backs!" he protested with a pout.
"Then if you're a good boy," I teased. "I might just let you give me one later."
He beamed as Bryce led us all to the stone wall at the edge of the road. Here, there was an amazing view out over the city. Rays of sunshine burst through the steely gray clouds, shining on the rooftops of buildings and the spires of churches like glimmers of heaven, making them look as though they'd been kissed by angels. I hastily took out my camera to capture the ethereal landscape on film.
"Group picture time!" Bryce announced, squelching the feeling of divine inspiration that had arisen in my soul.
"Bryce!" I griped, rather put out. "I was having a moment!"
"Er, sorry," he apologized sheepishly.
I smiled despite myself. Bryce was just too cute to stay mad at. "It's fine. Don't worry about it." As if to prove my point, I moved compliantly over to where he was standing.
"Do you think we can recruit some random person to take our picture?" asked Matt as the rest of our group gathered around.
"How about we ask that guy there?" suggested Jane, indicating a man strolling along the road, young daughter in tow.
"Sure," Bryce agreed. "We can use my camera." He headed over to the man, whom I named Walk-Along Bob.
Bryce began talking, motioning elaborately with his hands as was his custom.
Walk-Along Bob smiled and nodded, clearly thinking that the teenager before him was a bit of an eccentric character (and let's face it, he was sort of right). Finally, he took the camera from Bryce, who jogged back over to the group. We arranged ourselves along the stone wall so that the cityscape was visible behind us.
Walk-Along Bob set himself up in front of us. "Alright," he began, some sort of Eastern European accent detectable in his voice. "Smile on the count of three. One, two, three." There was a flash as the camera went off.
"Thanks!" exclaimed Bryce brightly, jumping up to retrieve his camera.
"Now that we've got our picture, I'd like to go see the Piazza Navona," Eden decided. "I've heard that it's gorgeous, and that there are some great gelato places in it. There's also supposed to be a fruit and vegetable market in Piazza di Campo dei Fiori, which isn't that far away from it."
"Argh, not more walking!" Brigid moaned. "Isn't there a subway or something?"
Bryce consulted his map. "There are only two lines, and they don't go anywhere near the Piazza Navona. The Spagna stop's right down at the bottom of the steps, though."
"Two subway lines in the entirety of Rome?" asked Elliot incredulously. "What lousy city planning."
"Well, I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm hopping on the next train and heading back to the hotel," Jane announced. "I'm bushed."
"I'm with you there," Brigid concurred.
Eden pouted. "Does anyone want to come with me?"
When no one answered in the affirmative, I decided to suck it up and go, blister be damned. We needed some Lotte-Eden time, anyway. "I'll go with you, Ede."
She smiled at me gratefully. "Awesome. Can we borrow your map, Bryce?"
"Sure," he replied, handing it to her.
"Thanks," she beamed. "I guess we'll see the rest of you back at the hotel, then."
Waving goodbye to our friends, Eden and I started off for the famed piazza, arm in arm. As always, we viewed our trek through Rome as an adventure, one that we'd tackle together.
* * *
"I am so ready for a nice, sweet gelato," Eden proclaimed as she plunked down in a chair at one of the tables outside of a gelato shop in the Piazza Navona.
I sat next to her. "Ditto."
The clouds from earlier in the day had all but dissipated, and the sun, in true Roman fashion, was beating down on the city and, more importantly, us. Getting hot, I pulled Kurt's sweatshirt over my head and held it in my lap instead.
"It was nice of Kurt to let you borrow that," Eden commented.
I shrugged. "Yeah, it was."
"Speaking of Kurt…"
I didn't like where the conversation was heading.
"…you never told me what was going on with you guys."
"What makes you think that there's anything going on?" I asked, deciding to play dumb.
She gave me an are-you-kidding-me look in return.
I sighed. "Fine, what do you want to know?"
"Everything," she answered. "What was up with you guys in Berlin? Why was he being all grouchy? Why did you guys disappear after the concert? Why did he jump on top of you in the Coliseum? Why were you being all weird with him when we were walking to lunch? And why did you have a hickey the other day?"
I blinked, taking in all of her questions. "Well…" I trailed off. "You see, it's a long story…"
"We're not exactly pressed for time," she pointed out.
I fidgeted in my seat. It was true that I'd planned on telling Eden the truth, but I was starting to get nervous about actually doing it. After all, how does one tell one's best friend that she got drunk and hooked up with a guy that they've both known since they were seven?
As though sensing my inner struggles, Eden reached out and gently placed her hand on top of mine. "Lotte, I'm your best friend. You can tell
me anything and I'll never judge you for it. You know that."
I sighed, offering her a small smile. "Yeah, I know. Alright, so here it goes…"
She gazed at me expectantly.
"So you know the other day when I got drunk after that thing in the graveyard?"
She nodded.
"Well, you guys weren't exactly the first to find me," I confessed. "You see, I went back to the hotel with some cognac and vodka, and I was just drinking in our room, and then Kurt came in. He said that he'd been looking for me and was going on about something or other - I was really too drunk at the time to remember what he was saying. I think that he was trying to get me sober, cause he put me in the bathtub and turned on the cold water. I think I took of my clothes as well, so I was just in my underwear. Anyway, one thing led to another, and…well…I sort of…made out with him…a bit." I flinched as the words passed by lips.
Before Eden could react to my story, a waiter came by to take our orders. No, scratch that. A really hot waiter who personified the phrase "tall, dark, and handsome" came by to take our orders. He couldn't have been more than twenty, and he was blessed with messy dark brown hair, tanned skin, and eyes the color of rich coffee. He began speaking to us in Italian, but quickly and almost seamlessly switched over to English upon request, though his deep voice was not without the slight lilt of an accent.
"Hello ladies," he greeted us. "I would say 'ciao, bella,' but you are probably already sick of that." He gave me a wink. "My name is Andreas. What can I get for you?"
"May I please have a glass of water and a small hazelnut gelato, please?" asked Eden sweetly.
Andreas scribbled this down on his pad, then turned to me, sexy grin in place. "And for you, mia cara?"
I blushed at the endearment, though I had no idea what it meant. "A glass of water and a small tartufo gelato, please."
