Brooklyn:
After being forced to spend one summer in Italy with her grandma, Brooklyn always found her way back to the cobblestone streets but not for the feeling of a summer never ending, but for Valentino, a boy who radiates trouble and sees throu...
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POV: Brooklyn Summer #1 "The most beautiful part is, I wasn't looking when I found you." - autumn
Why hasn't anyone told me how crowded Italy was?
When I go to the grocery store, there are people everywhere, conversing and continuing their day. Even though I know Italian well enough to get around, I feel like an outsider in this city. Tourists seem to be very comfortable, though.
I shiver at the memory of the guy with the 'I love Italy' shirt sticking his bare butt in a public foundation for a 'cool' photo that his friend took. They seemed okay with the fact that what they were doing was not only unsanitary but also weird. It was not long until a security guard came and took both guys into custody, but the memory was still seared into my mind.
The place was still nice, though. Without my father breathing down my back about family reputation and the importance of legacy, I've relaxed more this week than I've had in years. Although the guilt of just relaxing often caught up with me, I found myself doing something productive to scare it off, like painting.
Italy brought back the creative juices I've been missing lately. The people and culture had me stroking my brush from left to right non-stop. Everything here was slightly tinted with a picturesque glow that practically begged any artist to appreciate it, but I needed something rawer and more intimate than the heart-shaped glasses that this place put over the viewer's eyes, and a good place to find this is nature.
Nature is unadulterated in its own beautiful way that not even humans can taint, which is why I headed towards the countryside of Northern Italy. I trust the opinion of the natives, so when I asked one where they would find beautiful nature, I ran right in that direction.
As the land of fields blurred as the taxi drove by, I waited for the perfect scenery to reveal itself. I know it wouldn't catch everyone's eye; it will be special and closed-off.
When I spot a big widow tree on the edge of a field, I tell the driver to stop and run out of the cab as soon as I slap cash in his hands. The weight of my art supplies slows me down a little, but I don't let that stop me.
I follow the path to the tree until I hear the unmistakable sound of someone sniffing. It doesn't sound close or far, either, like it is happening right under my nose.
A part of me wants to mind my business and walk the other route, but I know if I am crying, I would want someone to be there for me. I turn around and follow the other path towards the sound, taking careful steps so I wouldn't alert the person.
Once I'm close enough to kind of see the source, I squat under a green bush to watch further. Call me creepy, but I wanted enough criminal shows where things like this could be used as a trap to kidnap people.
I lift my head a little to get a peek at the person, but the bush is too tall, and I can't move without compromising my position. This is the most fun I have had since I arrived in Italy. I feel like a spy on a mission.
I just wish I had the outfit and red lipstick to match. When I try to lift a little further, I feel something starting to tug at my bag, only to realize it was a squirrel.
"Go away," I whisper-shout at the needy animal. I hate squirrels more than anything; they're Satan's pets that somehow ended up on Earth. That's the only explanation that's reasonable for those small but aggressive creatures.
The little demon doesn't stop and starts to claw holes in my bag to drag it. I grab the scraps, and we pull back and forth. I know it may seem that I am weak, but I swear that the squirrel is strong. Using all my strength, I start to drag the bag and squirrel into my favor.
I reuse to lose to an animal. I'm about to laugh in victory until the little demon drops my bag and skitters away abruptly, causing me to immediately fall back.
Well, almost fall back. Steady arms wrap themselves around my waist, stopping me from falling to death. I raise my arms to balance myself, only to be confronted with someone's chest.
What?
I turn my head to see this person's face, but I'm dropped again, falling onto the hard planes of Earth. There's a rock out of the corner of my eye, and before I can catch myself or react properly, I feel the hard collision before everything turns black.
"Wake up!" The voice sounds near but also far away, like an echo in the cave of my mind. The person from before shakes my shoulders so hard that it feels like they are trying to detach my soul from my body.
I groan in response. Sound starts to become color before I'm able to sit myself up without immediately falling back down from the dizziness'. The face of the person starts to blur before I get a clear image. Green eyes that rival galaxies bore into mines with annoyance.
"Gosh, your head is bleeding." The boy rips off his white hoodie, even though it's summer, and wraps it around my throbbing head. It was only then that I realized the fading bruises and scars littering his body.
I want to ask, but instead I focus on the steady throb in my head. If he wanted to talk about it, he would.
"Brooklyn," I merely whisper up to the sky, but I know he heard me from the slight turn of his head. Friends are one of the little things that hold people together, and I am in desperate need of one. Maybe a friend who drops you isn't the best, but it's a start.
"Valentino."
When I feel his stare burning a hole in me, I look him in the eyes and smile at the feeling of someone new. A friend who I will have even when I am crossing the ocean. Knowing that I have that when I feel so alone in my world did something to me.
It chipped away at the lingering feeling of loneliness inside. ____________________________________ A/N: This is a rewriting of when Valentino and Brooklyn first met.
