[MATURE CONTENT]
"Arancini isn't the most fascinating thing on the menu, Coniglia." he commented, taking a long sip from his glass of stark red wine. "You clearly have no taste."
I rolled my eyes, annoyed. "And what is it on the menu that surpasses...
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After lunch, I headed to the stone wall Raffaele had instructed I go to. On the way, I caught a glimpse of myself in one of the glass doors. I frowned, puffing my curls in place, and readjusted the strap of my dress, pulling it lower.
Tight-lipped, I tilted my head and watched myself. "Mmm." I dragged a slow hand over my collarbone, teasing the skin. My other hand tickled the skin on my thigh, trailing slowly upward. "I'd fuck you." I muttered with a confident nod, sucking my bottom lip in my mouth and sinking my teeth into it.
"Sì, so would I."
I yelped, clutched a hand to my heart and spun around.
"But there are more important things to do, Coniglia." Raffaele strolled in from behind, not even bothering to look at me and continuing towards the wall.
Wide-eyed, I opened my mouth to say something, but stammered, and instead, covered my face with my hands and followed him sheepishly.
There was a large plank door in the wall, leading to a shed. Raffaele reached over and grabbed a bundle of keys hooked right above it. He started fiddling through the many different shapes of fitted metal before pulling out a skeleton key and ramming it into the keyhole.
"Wait here." He told me as he entered, and I nodded.
When Raffaele was inside, I looked at the wall, running my gaze over the unfinished mosaic. I didn't know what the image was, but I could provision that the end result would be astounding.
There was a bucket of multicolored tile pieces next to the wall, with a hammer, flat-head nails, and other tools and materials surrounding it.
I heard chains creaking, as well as the turn of a crank, and looked to see Raffaele walking out with two vintage dutch bikes, one yellow and the other light blue. The yellow one had a big basket in the front, decorated at the top with white ribbon.
"Oh, those are so pretty." I gawked.
Raffaele lifted his head and gave me a close-lipped smile. "Yeah, my grandfather owned a bike shop for a little while before he passed away."
Slack-jawed, I quickly opened my mouth wider to say, "I'm sorry-"
Raffaele chuckled softly, "It's alright, it's been over a decade."
He shrugged, walking to me and handing me the yellow bicycle. I quickly closed my hands around the handlebars and rested it beside me. I shrugged my mini backpack off and placed it in the basket.
Raffaele set his own bike against the wall, back turned to me as he worked to lock the shed door again. The key was old and rusted, making it rather difficult for him to turn it inside.
I looked up at the mosaic, then back at him, admiring his strong back clad by a polo shirt, and taking in his tan muscular arms as they reached up to hook the keys back onto the wall.
