“Where are we going?”
I couldn’t help but be a little excited. I mean, this was Rome. The city of love. Fine, PARIS is the city of love, but big difference.
Why the hell am I thinking about love?! This was nothing to do with love! Love was stupid. Love didn’t exist. Love is dirty, filthy and unreal.
“How about we take a private tour of Rome? I know some nice places to go.”
“You’ve been here before?” I asked, surprised. My whole tone was saturated with ‘how? He’s so lower-class’. He picked up on it, and smiled at me.
“Came here last year, for an International soccer competition.”
“You play soccer?”
“Yep. Carter’s way better, but I like soccer a lot more than football. There’s too much pressure, you know, with football. Soccer is more like a hobby.”
I wound my fingers into his, almost naturally, like I’d been doing it since forever.
“Where d’you want to go, then?”
“I know a pizza place. Pizza the right way, not the stuff we have back in the US.”
“Can you speak Italian?”
“Only one sentence - il mio piccolo amico è venuta fuori.”
I laughed.
“What? What did I say?”
“You said, ‘My little friend is coming out’.”
“Oh.”
“Yes.”
“So that’s why they kicked me out last time.”
***
=Hailey=
I tossed my hair, and watched the blond strands catch the light from the bus window. Damn. I so needed some deep conditioning.
“Where’s Max?”
I looked up, fully paying attention now. I had to contain her if Max was doing something bad. Tiffany flips out whenever Max does anything with girls at all. And she’s been flipping out a lot since Alexis came.
She’s just SO possessive. I remember last time Max got a girlfriend…she flipped out and burnt her hair, and made the girl dump Max. Half of Max’s relationships have completely ruined by her – that was why the whole school seemed to think he was some kind of Casanova. Hell, no. Just rumours Tiffany spread to put off the other girls. She may look sweet, but she is the most controlling person ever.
“I don’t know,” I said, pulling out my nail file, and fixing the little bump that had been annoying me for a while. “Maybe he’s with Tom and Carter?”
Tiffany craned her neck, and looked over the seats of the coach we were all riding in. I should tell her that whenever she stretched her neck, she looks like a demented giraffe, but you know what? I can’t be bothered.
“No!” she hissed, hitting my arm, and making me file slantily, which ruined everything. She was so annoying. Now if I fix that nail, it will be a different size from all my others nails and my life will be officially over. “He’s not!”
How was that my fault?
I’ve learnt not to say anything, and just let her be the crazy neurotic she is. I’ll just be the better-looking sidekick.
“That’s terrible,” I said vaguely, filing my thumb. (Not really my thumb. I’m not that blond).
“Where’ve they gone?” Olivia’s voice came from a couple seats in front of us.
