Romance in Italy

Romance in Italy - 20

"Same to you." I replied. Once the doors closed, the smile slid off my face and I collapsed in the chair in front of the balcony. I rubbed my hand down the length of my face, completely disregarding the fact that I had enough make-up on to beautify five people. The little banter between Max and I dried up whatever energy I had. I was suddenly very exhausted and morose. It was as if the last week's events hadn't caught up to me until now. 

I ran my eyes around the small room, over the window seat overlooking a grassy field, over the posters and pictures pasted around the walls, over the brown ratty couch set in the center of the room, over the coffee table with a vase full of roses and peonies before my sight finally landed on a gold box, half hidden behind a large green leaf. 

I stood and crossed over to the table, cautious of my costume. I sat down on the couch, grabbed the box and placed it on my lap. Shaking the lid until it finally slid off, I glanced down at the box's contents. The box was divided into two rows of six squares, each filled with brown squares. Chocolate. Its enticing aroma wafted to my nostrils and I breathed in deeply, feeling my stomach rumbled with hunger. In my haste to make it to the theater on time, I hadn't had time to eat. Normally, I could talk Ashton into stopping for breakfast but because of our non-talking relationship, it was a moot point. 

I reached for a square eagerly, placing it on my tongue. Immediately, its bittersweet taste filled my whole mouth until it was all I could smell, see, and taste.

...

The velvety red curtains rustled as I gently pushed it aside. I craned my neck and widened my eyes as I tried to catch a glimpse of the audience. Judging by the noise level in the theater and the sold-out tickets, it was packed. The excited murmurs of the audiences was enough to send my nervousness into overdrive. My throat felt parched and my palms were sweaty. A rush of nausea and fatigue washed over me and I swayed slightly, my arms shot out to grasp a metal pole to steady myself.

A random passerby grabbed my elbow and shot me a worried look. He seemed really familiar but my groggy brain can't place him. "Are you alright?" 

I opened my mouth to reply but a sudden rush of food traveling up my throat made me clamp my lips shut. Shaking my head vigorously, I pushed my way through the abrupt onslaught of people, trying to fight my way to the bathroom a little ways near the exit. 

"Grace!" I heard someone call out. The urgency and concern in their voice were lost to me as I tried to fight the nauseating churning of my stomach. 

Almost everyone was gathered near the curtains so the back was basically empty. I winged the door to the bathroom open and rushed inside, not bothering to close it. Then I hugged the rim of the toilet bowl and emptied out my stomach in a very disgusting manner. 

I felt my hair being pulled back but didn't give much thoughts to it. I was too busy heaving into the bowl, its water turning a murky brown. After a few moments just staring at the wall, I wiped my mouth and stood up shakily, my dress rustling around my legs. 

I gave a start when I saw that a majority of the crew and casts were gathered around the bathroom door, watching me with worried looks in their eyes. My eyes darted to the person still holding my hair and my brown orbs widened at the sight of Ashton with his fingers curled around my hair. I was too stunned to do anything but gawk.

"Would someone please tell me why the star of the show is in the bathroom," the director boomed as he walked through the gathered mass. The crew and casts automatically created a wide berth for him as if he were Moses parting the Red Sea. "puking her guts out while there's at least three hundred people waiting to see her performance?" 

My head snapped up. "Three hundred?" I echoed, my eyes widening. 

"More or less." The director replied dismissively. "Explain. Now."