Within several minutes, we're at the front of the line. I assume we're going to keep walking, but the young English couple in front of us has me take their picture, and then they offer to take ours. I open my mouth to decline, but Bruno bursts out with a "
" and unhooks the camera from my neck, handing it to the woman.
He leads me to the bench and we sit, the sides of our legs touching. My stomach clenches. This is the bench. Not a single couple before us has smiled for the camera. They for the camera.
My eyes lock on the lens like a deer in the headlights. I force a smile, a big one, with teeth. My head nearly vibrates with the strain. This is fine. We're going to break the trend and smile. Absolutely no kissing.
The woman lifts my camera to her face. "One, two--"
On two, Bruno reaches behind me and cups the back of my head in his hand, turning me to face him. His other hand is on my cheek. His lips press onto mine. The camera clicks.
"WOOOOOO!" echoes around us. One person claps. Bruno pulls away but stares into my eyes for a moment before hopping up and getting my camera back for me.
My head is spinning. I remain seated, stupefied, until a couple shoos me away for their turn, and soon we're walking the next section of the path along with the English couple. Bruno chats with them--heavy accent enforced--but their words turn to garble. All I hear is And it was short. Too short. No. Too long. Shouldn't have happened. Chiara will kill us if she finds out. But she won't find out. I'll hide the picture from her. I'll delete the picture! No, I have to show Morgan. And I want proof for myself. I'll just make sure Chiara doesn't see it. It only happened because it's what you at the kissing bench when you're sitting next to the hottest Italian boy you've ever seen.
I just have to stay away from that bench.
" and unhooks the camera from my neck, handing it to the woman.
He leads me to the bench and we sit, the sides of our legs touching. My stomach clenches. This is the bench. Not a single couple before us has smiled for the camera. They for the camera.
My eyes lock on the lens like a deer in the headlights. I force a smile, a big one, with teeth. My head nearly vibrates with the strain. This is fine. We're going to break the trend and smile. Absolutely no kissing.
The woman lifts my camera to her face. "One, two--"
On two, Bruno reaches behind me and cups the back of my head in his hand, turning me to face him. His other hand is on my cheek. His lips press onto mine. The camera clicks.
"WOOOOOO!" echoes around us. One person claps. Bruno pulls away but stares into my eyes for a moment before hopping up and getting my camera back for me.
My head is spinning. I remain seated, stupefied, until a couple shoos me away for their turn, and soon we're walking the next section of the path along with the English couple. Bruno chats with them--heavy accent enforced--but their words turn to garble. All I hear is And it was short. Too short. No. Too long. Shouldn't have happened. Chiara will kill us if she finds out. But she won't find out. I'll hide the picture from her. I'll delete the picture! No, I have to show Morgan. And I want proof for myself. I'll just make sure Chiara doesn't see it. It only happened because it's what you at the kissing bench when you're sitting next to the hottest Italian boy you've ever seen.
I just have to stay away from that bench.
( Kristin Rae )
[ Wish You Were Italian ]
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