Andante, Andante

Chapter Six

"Are you sure this dress is okay? It seems a bit short," Emma expresses as she tugs once again at the hem that falls just below her ass.

There's no bending down tonight, that's for sure.

"Yes, it's fine." Regina rolls those annoyed eyes yet again and grips Emma's wrist, tugging her along to the local bar. "You will fit right in and I think we both need to let loose tonight. No more ex-fiancés, no more thoughts about America. Just us, Sicily and a whole lot of alcohol."

"Alright, sounds like a plan," she complies happily while Regina drags her into a bar and plants her butt on a stool in front of a very handsome bartender.

A man with dark, sandy-blonde curls, hazel eyes and a warm smile that just won't quit. "Bella," he chants as Regina slides effortlessly onto the leather stool beside her. However, the way this man says, bella, throws Emma off for a moment because there's no signs of Italian descent curling around his words like Augusto.

"Ciao," Regina shouts over the loud music, her and the bartender both leaning forward to properly greet one another with small pecks to each cheek. "Graham this is my friend, Emma. Emma this is Graham."

"Nice to meet you, beautiful," he sweetly greets her, leaning forward to plant a kiss upon her cheek as well.

"You're not Sicilian," she blurts out the moment his warm lips leave her cheek.

"No," he laughs to himself while Regina smiles in return. "I'm from Ireland," he announces with his accent thicker than moments ago. "But I like to travel here to work during the summer, it's so beautiful here and the women aren't so bad," he jokes as his eyes ogle her body shamelessly.

"Oh Graham, leave her be," Regina states, turning her full attention onto Emma, her body lingering rather close, and sending her sweet scent to fill Emma's nose causing all her senses to go haywire. "Let's do shots, what would you like?"

"Ummm," her mind is blank, still trying to clear from the fog of her alluring aroma.

"Tequila?" Regina offers kindly when she realizes Emma won't be answering.

Emma shakes her head rapidly as the thought makes her stomach twirl. "No, too many tequila shots back in the day. How about lemon drops?"

"No Swan, too many cheap cranberry juice and Skol vodka back in college," her roommate admits and they both shudder at the thought. "I know," Regina's lips curl into a salacious smirk, "Washington Apples."

"What the hell is that?"

She just smiles that seductive grin, causing her eyes to light up in a way that always seems to place Emma under her spell. Regina orders two Washington Apples from Graham and slips her credit card across the wet bar top. As the bartender sets down their deep red shot glasses, he disappears with Regina's card.

"Ready?" Regina grins, offering a glass in which she eagerly accepts, needing something to help her relax around this enchanting woman.

She and Regina both clink their glasses together before they toss back the sweet alcohol. She hardly winces from the strong alcohol because of the sweet taste of apples that lingers upon her tongue afterwards.

For the next ten minutes, they take shot after shot, clinking their glasses to Sicily, to freedom, to fun, to everything else under this Sicilian moon until they are laughing happily with the buzz of alcohol warming their blood.

"Eight years is a long time to be with someone, especially at the age of sixteen," Emma mumbles, setting down her fifth shot glass a little too aggressively.