The exchange student

We'll see bambolina, we'll see

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Top: Francesco Russo
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The alarm rang at 7:32. Hold on... Why was the alarm ringing on a Saturday morning of August?

I was about to hide my head under the pillow when I remembered. I was supposed to go with my parents to pick up the Italian boy at the airport. When the day before I tried to argue and ask if I could stay at home all I got was a no.

Reluctantly, I got up and went in my bathroom to have quick shower. When I got out I opened my closet and after a few minutes if staring at it I chose to wear a floral dress and a pair of sandals. I was thinking to braid my hair, but than I decided to leave them untied.

As always, I chose not to wear any makeup, not because I don't like it or because I can't do it, but I think that if I never wear it people would think that even when I wear just a little I look gorgeous, instead if I always wear it it one day I am running late and I don't have time to apply it, they would probably ask me if I'm sick. Don't know if it makes sense.

When I was ready I went in the living room where I met my parents already waiting for me.

" 'morning mom, 'morning dad" I greeted.

"Good morning sweetie, are you ready to go?" My mom asked.

"Yeah, I'm ready. But are you sure that I have to come?"

"Yes, you have. It would be very polite to come with us. Plus, we are going to stop at that pancake shop that you like" damn, my dad knows how to be convincing.

"I'm coming only for the pancakes " I replied.

"As long as you're coming is fine for me, but now let's go. It's getting late" he said laughing.

I loved my dad. He was awesome. He managed to make even the most boring thing look fun and he was always defending me when I argued with my mother. And trust me, there was a reason why he was a famous lawyer.

We soon arrived at the airport and looked for this guy at the arrivals. My mom had printed in capital letters his name on a piece of paper so that he could recognize us when he arrived.

"Francesco Russo" that was his name, but honestly, I didn't know how to pronounce it.

We waited for ages (10 minutes more or less) when finally a boy with a dozen of suitcases came towards us.

Trust me when I say he was as hot as Indian pepper and maybe even more. He was pretty tall and you could catch a glimpse of his abs under the white T-shirt that was wearing. His dark brown hair were all messy but he still looked like a Kalvin Klain model. The best part though, were his eyes: blue, like two sapphires shining in a cave, like the see in sunny days, like the sky in those summer weeks, when you couldn't find a cloud even if you tried hard. Amazing.

"Hello" he said shyly, with a not so strong Italian accent " I'm Francesco Russo" oh, that's how you pronounced his name. It sounded way better than in my head.

"Hi, I'm Eduard Smith, these are my wife Margaret and my daughter Abigail" my father introduced us, but I was too distracted that I didn't really hear that he was talking until he said my name.

" Uhm, yes, nice to meet you." I greeted and offered him my hand. His hand was so soft, I had never met someone with hands like those.

"Nice too meet you too" he smiled at me.

" You must be very tired from your flight, let's go to the car" my mom claimed.

"That's a good idea. Here, let me help you with your luggage" dad offered.

"Thank you so much "

When we entered in the car I could feel his embarrassment and I understood him. I mean, he had been catapulted in a new continent, where people spoke a totally different language and had a different lifestyle and now he was sitting in car with a bunch of strangers that were supposed to be his family for one year. I would totally be embarrassed.

"So, Francesco... am I pronouncing correctly your name?"my dad finally spoke.

"Yes, just with a shorter "e" tough" he replied. I could tell from his face that in truth my father was saying it in a totally wrong way. I held a laugh.

"As I can here, you can speak and understand English very well, how did you learn?" My mother asked him.

"Well, in Italy at school you study English since first grade, but that's not how I learned it. I started studying English at four at my parents' languages school" he answered.

While he was talking with my parents, he turned towards me an checked me out. I felt a little uncomfortable. Nobody ever did this with me, actually nobody never even paid attention to me.

"Here we are! You can get out of the car now!" Dad called while parking, than asked the bell boy to take Francesco's luggage to our apartment.

"Wow, the view from here is amazing!" Francesco affirmed as soon as we entered.

"Yes, I think it too" I said.

"Abby, why don't you show him around while I prepare something to eat?" Mom yelled from the kitchen.

"Sure, follow me!" I exclaimed.

"So, this is the living room, as you can see..." I began showing him the house, adding some details in some rooms.

We arrived in front of my bedroom.

"If you open that door, you find my room." I claimed, already moving to the bathroom.

"Why don't you show me your room?" He asked with a strange grin on his face.

"Why do you need to see it?"

"Don't know, just curious "

"Fine" I opened the door " this is my room"

"Very nice...but, why have you got two beds?" He questioned.

"It's for when my friend stays here for the night"

"Is she as hot as you?"he asked me with the same voice tone you use to ask for a glass of water.

"What?!" I replied in disbelief.

"I asked if she's sexy like you, because if she is, well, I think I'm going to spend a very nice year"you could see the grin on his face from miles.

I was shocked. First, because nobody ever told me that I was hot, a cute girl yes, but sexy... never. Second, because of his insolence.

"And how can our 'beauty' affect your time here?" I argued.

"Well..." He didn't continue, instead he looked at the bed and finally I understood.

"Oh no, no way! I'm not that kind of girl! If you think that you can use me as a toy, you're totally wrong!" I was furious. I hated when people said this stuff.

"Non ti arrabbiare bambolina, don't be angry, I didn't say anything. But if you change your mind, let me know." He responded "now, where is my room?"

Trying to contain my anger, I leaded him in the guest room, where he was going to stay.

"Here, this is going to be your room for the next year, enjoy yourself" I said with a visibly fake smile "oh, and by the way, I don't think I'll change my mind!"

"We'll see, bambolina, we'll see" he replied after I closed the door.

Ughh, I already couldn't stand him! He was so annoying! And sexually perverted! I take bake all the things I said when I first saw him! How was I supposed to spend a year with him! And what the fuck did 'bambolina' mean!!!