A Week In Rome | AWI series |✔

» friday

"What are you thinking about?"

Max's voice filled my ears as I leaned against his shoulder, our chests rising and falling to the same rhythm. The faint scent of his cologne filled my senses; it was a smell I'd grown accustomed to.

Rome now smelled like coffee, flowers, the way that the ground smells after being kissed by raindrops, and Max.

We sat upon the Spanish steps, after having spent an entire day in art museums and eating so much food that I could barely walk.

Now, we each had empty cups of gelato next to us as we watched crowds of people walk past, absorbed in their own busy live. It turns out Max ended up liking gelato.

"Do you have a bucket list?" I leaned back, craning my head to peer up at him. He adjusted the collar of his shirt and turned to face me. The sun behind us outlined his sharp jaw as it was clenched in thought.

"No," he admitted, "I don't like lists. Besides, I feel like I have done everything I've wanted to do."

I shook my head in disbelief, tracing the vein protruding from the skin in his arm with my fingers.

"There has to be something."

I found it difficult to believe that anyone could possibly have done everything they desired. The world was too big to have explored all of it.

"It's really cliche, but I do want to see the seven wonders of the world."

Burying my hands into the pockets of my jacket, I nodded contently.

"How many have you seen so far?"

A smile crept onto his pink lips as Max stood to his feet. He held a hand out to help me up, which I gladly took.

"So far, just you."

My cheeks burned as I walked down the steps with him. The Spanish Steps were framed by historical buildings, with a Roman Catholic church sitting at the top. At the bottom of the steps was a vast fountain.

Fontana della Barcaccia. The Fountain of the Old Boat.

It was just what it sounded like. Renaissance-style artwork was conveyed through a boat in the middle of the fountain, the water running through it clear as the sky.

"Do you always speak to women this way?" I joked with Max as we walked past the fountain and down the road, our arms linked. Another flower had found its home behind my ear; it'd become a tradition.

He shook his head and stopped walking, bringing a hand up to push a stray lock of hair behind my ear. His bright eyes held amusement as he studied my puzzled expression.

"Only the ones that attack me on bridges."

I rolled my eyes and playfully nudged his shoulder as we continued down the sidewalk.

Before I could respond, a man shouted from across the street, both of our heads snapping in his direction.

"Max! Ciao!" He shouted, waving his hands in the air. He was old, holding a cane in his hand as he walked down the path, a newspaper tucked under his arm, the wrinkles near his eyes deepening with his smile.

Max's face lit up as he waved at the man, his hands in the air.

"Mr. Moretti! Felice di vederti!"

I recognized Max's words to mean 'nice to see you.' In the little downtime I had, I would read through some common Italian phrases.

The man smiled lovingly before continuing down the sidewalk, and I faced Max.