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"You know, you look remarkably soft and innocent when you smile like this," Rosetta claimed, pointing the fork in her hand at the photograph she'd taken of Ollie on her laptop screen.
His lips looked so tender in the picture; plush and pink, stretching sweetly across his soft features.
"You think so?"
"Yeah," she hushed out lackadaisically, "it's quite deceiving, really."
With a sly smile etched upon her face, Rosetta went to pierce another polpetta al sugo from one of the many bowls they were sharing and lifted it into her mouth. The burst of flavour exploded on Rosetta's tongue as if it was a burst of summer captured in a single bite, the taste of sun-ripened tomatoes and warm summer evenings enveloping her senses.
After their sunset photo-hunting session at the Belvedere di Gianicolo, Ollie had dragged her into a nearby trattoria to treat her, and himself some authentic Italian polpette for dinner.
Before she knew it, Rosetta had found herself squeezed against Ollie's side in a secluded nook in the small restaurant. Its white-painted walls created a pristine backdrop, while the furniture, dressed in analogous tones of nature's own palette, added a touch of warmth. The interior was adorned with graceful archways whilst, at the centre of the trattoria, a bar stood with high wooden chairs neatly arranged along the span of it.
It was a captivating fusion of rustic elegance and modern charm.
Rosetta pretended not to notice what Ollie was doing, but since they had sat down, his knee seemed to have become a daring summer sprite, bashfully bumping against her own beneath the table from time to time.
"What do you mean deceiving?" the English questioned, stealing her attention with the odd timbre carried in his offended tone.
His eyebrows knitted together, forming a sharp cliff of playful irritation on his forehead as he stared at her through his squinted gaze as he backed away from her. His lips formed a taunting pout that seemed to mirror the sulking moon hiding behind a passing cloud.
"Well..." Rosetta teased, "for as far as I've known you within the couple of days we'd spent together, I'd gathered that you're not exactly innocent."
"And soft?"
"I don't suppose that you are." She nonchalantly took a sip of her red wine, her eyes locking straight into his brown ones. "No?"
Rosetta's eyes twinkled with mischief, trapping him within the cage of her demanding stare. She arched a single brow in a suggestive motion, the amusement tugging her lips at the edges as she watched the amber of his eyes being eclipsed by the flabbergasted shadow of his blown-wide pupils.
