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↶*ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊ-
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"Where to now?" Rosetta asked.
"Up to you." Ollie smiled. "Wherever you go, I'll follow."
Their filming gear was repacked, and without a word, Ollie had already taken up the weight of the backpack, effortlessly shouldering it before she could even utter a word.
"What if I wanted to go to the ladies' room?" she teased.
A dramatic pout instantaneously formed upon his face.
"You're funny, Paperotta" he groaned as his palm stuck itself along the underside of her jaw to cup her face.
Rosetta couldn't contain her laughter as Ollie smothered her face with a relentless cascade of kisses. The force of his lips grew stronger and more demanding with each peck he planted on her skin. It was as if they had unleashed a torrent of flavour, an overwhelming and intense surge of sensation that left her breathless.
They had just wrapped filming another video after an unquenchable desire seemed to have consumed Ollie as he urged them to embark on a second video venture for his channel after the cooking fiasco they produced for Rosetta's. He was resolute, adamant that both of them do something spontaneous that included a stranger interaction.
And that had brought them to Palermo's cherished café, the very haunt that was also her father's favourite where they were initiated into the world of coffee, learning about its nuances and even trying their hand at crafting an authentic Italian cup.
Their coffee adventure even stretched far beyond the realm of brewing. Rosetta and Ollie somehow wound up in the delightful chaos of helping with the café's patrons. Plates clattered like a percussion section, and orders flowed like a river of roasted beans, and amidst the merry mayhem, they had lent their hands, sometimes burdening, but most of all, they had loads of fun doing it.
As they then strolled along the sunlit pavement, Rosetta's laughter still danced like the warm sun, its radiant beams of joy illuminating their path. Ollie's steps matched hers as he walked behind her, his body flush against her back while his hands acquiescently nestling on her shoulders.
"Rosetta?" a velvety voice called from her right as they were about to cross an intersection.
It was a voice Rosetta knew all too well, a haunting echo of her past, one she had fervently hoped to never hear again. As the sound reached her ears, it sent shivers rippling across her skin, like a spectral whisper of memories she had long sought to bury. A shadowy recollection stirred within her, and an unsettling sensation coiled within the pit of her stomach.
She really didn't need anything to ruin her beautiful summer day.
"Pensavo che fossi tu," Giovanni's voice, sweet and velvety as ever, sliced through the air as he quickly approached Ollie and her.
