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"I want to drink the water," Rosetta blurted out lowly.
Ollie's face immediately contorted into a humorous mask of bewilderment. His eyebrows furrowed, amber eyes widening like two comically startled beach balls as they stared questioningly at her
"What?" he laughed.
"Look at that and tell me that doesn't call for you to just take a sip," she stated in a serious tone, "or a gulp. And a half."
Before them, the water at the Faraglioni di Scopello glistened like a thousand diamonds scattered across a turquoise canvas. Its crystalline depths were alluring—or dare she say, appetising—inviting Rosetta to immerse herself in its cool, refreshing embrace. Each gentle crash of the waves was a brushstroke of aquamarine, and the sunlight played upon the surface like a masterful painter's palette.
It was absolutely worth getting up early to drive from her house in Palermo down to Scopello.
Rosetta and Ollie had previously found themselves in a sunny prelude of strolling through Scopello's rural village centre where cobbled streets whispered stories of ancient summers before they ventured to the beach. The village exuded an old-world charm that enveloped them like a nostalgic embrace, captivating their senses and slowing time's passage.
Amidst picturesque buildings, they also paused to indulge in the infamous pane cunzatu—a culinary masterpiece that transported them to a realm of Mediterranean delight with their symphony of flavours.
It might have just been freshly-baked bread stuffed with raw tomatoes, cheese, anchovies, salt, pepper and olive oil, but its taste still lingered upon Rosetta's palate as she inhaled the warm, salty air of the beach.
Before she knew it, Ollie was unbuttoning his white cotton shirt, effortlessly shrugging it off of him. Under the blanket of the summer sun, Rosetta's gaze fell upon him. His sculpted form was a masterpiece chiselled by a divine artist; a sun-kissed statue adorned by a crown of summer's golden rays.
Rosetta found herself gulping as her thirsty eyes selfishly drank in the satiating sight of him.
With a faint smile gracing her lips, she set up their beach chairs and towels, and like a sudden wave crashing against the shore, chills cascaded down Rosetta's spine when Ollie's longing grasp found her waist. His breath was warm as it fanned across her neck, but the kiss he then pressed to the junction of her neck and shoulder was burning, igniting the embers of delight within her.
"I'm going swimming," his enthusiastic voice boomed into her ear.
She chuckled, her hand moving up blindly towards his cheek to stroke his skin mildly.
