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↶*ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊ-
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"Why would you get a fancy car that drives on the wrong side of the road?" Rosetta wondered aloud; her voice squeaky as stifled laughter latched onto her tone.
"This is a gift, okay?" Ollie told her honestly, his words slipping past his grinning mouth as he manoeuvred his Ferrari through the post-Grand-Prix Monza traffic, driving back to her hotel. "One of my sponsors gave it to me in Malta for my birthday."
Inside the confines of his car, his curated playlist filled the air with an enticing melody, the upbeat tunes of pop songs cascading from the speakers in harmonious waves. To his delight, Rosetta appeared to revel in the infectious beats—despite the genre not being her go-to.
The simple sight of her seated to his left in the passenger's seat somehow managed to make his heart swell with overwhelming fondness. The soft curve of her plush lips and the sparkle in her big, round eyes were met with his own tender smile, and his fingers tightened on the steering wheel, not out of tension, but out of a formidable love he felt for the woman nodding her head in tune with his music, the woman who was immersed in the moment as her appreciative eyes wandered across the opulent interior of his vehicle.
The air seemed to shimmer with the warmth of his feelings, an invisible embrace that wrapped around them, and Ollie could sense his heart dance to a love-struck melody, a tune composed solely for Rosetta.
After their conversation, he couldn't help but feel a sense of accomplishment. The emotional burden that had weighed heavily upon his shoulders had lifted, leaving him with a sensation of lightness that seemed to permeate his very being.
While Rosetta had not provided him with a definitive affirmation to rekindle what they had once shared, the undercurrents of willingness were palpable, scattered in the not-so-subtle hints she had liberally strewn his way. He understood, with an intuitive certainty born of their shared history, that Rosetta would never guide him down a path devoid of meaning.
And he was well aware that he shouldn't have aimed his hopes for the stars, but, oh, well...
That realisation might have hit a little too late.
Approaching the imposing structure indicated by the dot on his GPS, Ollie deftly engaged his blinker, guiding his vehicle carefully into the cobbled embrace of the hotel's driveway. The ancient stones beneath the tires resonated with a gentle clatter, a welcome herald to their arrival at the grand edifice.
He brought his car to a graceful halt, the engine's hum fading into the ambient hush of the surroundings as he turned slightly towards her, a small smile on his face. "Hold on," he whispered, "let me open the door for you."
