Not your Prince Charming |hiatus

Capítulo Cinco - Savannah

I look in the mirror one last time to see if what I am wearing looks good. I've done it a hundred times already, every time thinking this is going to be the last time. But I just can't bring myself to be confident. God, why do I even care? It's not like I'm going to find my Prince Charming in Spain, anyways.

I click a mirror selfie on my phone and open it to see what I really look like. I look just fine in my blue off-shoulder cropped top,  paired with a torn-at-the-knee blue jeans, finishing it off by wearing my adidas original's sneakers and my Karen Walker sunglasses. My hair are fixed in place in a messy ponytail, which gives the focus on my freshly shampooed hair. The loose top and skinny jeans compliment each other perfectly and make me look quite slim with a pretty good figure (I always dreamt to have that).

I pick up my camera and hang it around my neck. I also carry my journal, just in case I get bored. It's not long after I leave my hotel room that I realize I might be looking like a complete idiot in these skinny jeans with this cropped top with a camera hugging my chest when Spain's today's dress code might be cute and cheeky because everyone is in frocks or midis. I unwrap my camera from my neck and simply carry it in my hand, hanging it by the strap. The strap is short so that leaves very little possibility of the camera dragging against the ground. Duh!

The scene is so breathtaking, I could get my camera memory full within the next one hour but instead I click no photos. I don't know why but I have this craving for ice-cream right now. Or should I say gelato. I am so obsessed with ice-creams, I need it as my stress-buster. My parents force me to work on that addiction and whenever I think I'm doing pretty well, I prove myself wrong. Stupid little me!

Just as I was walking, I found a small road-side café serving gelato. It was more of a pre-meal desert center but it served gelato, so it serves my purpose. I pick an empty table and comfort myself there. I place my camera right in front of me, on the table. I slid my journal under my camera so both the things together consumed less space and it stays well hidden. I open my menu card and go through all the dishes. And shoot!

They have more than 50 different flavors of gelato! Basic gelato, that is. Than they have combination gelato in which they mix certain flavors to create an unique flavor. Holy crap! And as if this wasn't enough, they have a layered gelato option. You can select any 3 flavors and they give it to you layers, in the order you want. That's right, three in one cone! And this was just for gelatos. Not counting the countless pages filled with the mouth-watering names of different pastries. The only thought that comes to my brain is Summer's gonna be less, Savannah. You need more like an entire year to try them all.

I decided to play safe rather than trying something different and not liking it afterwards. So I go with the Tortufo. I have never tasted it before, it just looks (make it sounds in this case) interesting. I walk up to the counter in planning to ask the attendant what exactly is Tortufo? It's pretty close to my table so I don't bother carrying my camera with me. And I just don't believe it! The waitress looks less like a waitress and more like a super model. She's tall, thin with perfect figure, her hair are beautiful, she is beautiful and most of all, she looks confident, like she knows what she's doing. I try less to stare at her and more to stick to the business I came for. I simply asked "What exactly do you mean by.....Tortufo?" I take a long pause between by and Tortufo, which I think gives the I-am-a-tourist impression. Or should I say, I was not sure about my pronunciation.

"Oh, Tortufo? It's dark chocolate based gelato, with fine ground toasted hazelnuts and a hint of liqueur. The liqueur gives it a kick and makes it a bit, what do you call it, tingly?" She answers, way more casually than I asked her.

"It is....dark chocolate, finely ground toasted hazelnuts and a hint of liquer? You think I would like it?" I asked her, though I know she wouldn't know.

She surprised me when she said "Everyone has different choice but, Americans seem to like it." Bam! How the hell does she know I am American?! Is it written on my face?! I don't even have an typical American accent, do I? Then she adds "And it won't kill you. So, there is nothing wrong in trying."

I order the Tortufo and as I was about to pay the bill, I voice from behind said "Give her discount."

I turn around to see who it is and freeze. I stand there speechless, staring at him. It's like my whole body as paralyzed. But as soon as I have control over myself again, I jump at/for/over him. "Conrad! Where the hell were you all these years?"

He catches/hugs/holds me in time. "Susan! I was here all these years. In Spain" he said mimicking my tone, because he knew this would annoy me. But I don't care. I just sink into his warm hug, feeling safe once again.

(Hey, amazing readers! I guess you guys might probably like to check out the previous chapters once again, 'cause I've recently added character aesthetics to my book, making each character easier for you to understand and predict. Hope my book keeps you glued to the screen. Happy readin'. Love ya'll.)