For the second day in a row, when I descended the stairs of the motel, I was met with a smiling, adorably-dressed Max. His hair was wild as ever, and eyes brighter than before. In his hands was a bouquet of classic roses, about four or five of them. He extended them to me when I stepped down in front of him.
"Buongiorno amore," Max smiled, "Good morning, love." He'd asked me earlier if I minded him speaking Italian to me, and there was nothing more beautiful than the sound of his language from his mouth. I could just sit and listen to him speak the entire day.
A blush the color of the flowers crept onto my cheeks, and I took them from him bashfully. I felt and probably looked like a child as I brought them up to my nose, letting the sweet, delicate scent overwhelm my senses.
"Max, why do you spoil me?" I asked as I linked my arm into his, tucking the roses into the side of my backpack.
His body shook with laughter, then he peered down at me with curiosity.
"Spoil? You act as if no one has ever brought you flowers before."
His words were spoken with a light heart, and he was so sure of himself. My steps faltered just a bit, and I tried to suppress the pang in my chest. No one had bought me flowers before.
Stopping in his tracks, his eyes widened as he placed his hands gently on my shoulders.
"Really? No one?"
Not meeting his sharp gaze, I shook my head.
"Someone used to tell me that they were superficial. And pointless."
Max seemed tense, his jaw clenched as he took in the pain in my eyes. He shook some thoughts out of his head and tucked a stray strand of my hair behind my ear. He took one of the roses from my backpack and placed is behind my ear, bringing back a sense of déjà vu from the day before.
For a moment, we stood there, his hand on my cheek, and my heart beating out of my chest. Green eyes locked onto my brown ones.
"There is nothing superficial about their beauty. And yours."
His words were soft as they left his lips. In his deep eyes swam a solemn look, and I wondered right then if all this time, I'd been missing out. Max, though we were friends of sorts, showed me affection so real that it made me question what I'd experienced before.
"Maybe it's the gesture that counts."
The smile returned to his lips when he saw mine, and he led us down the city. We walked quietly for several minutes, passing many boutique shops and restaurants. I gazed into the window of each one, and stopped in my tracks when something caught my eye.
A dress in the display window of a boutique shop named Floreale. It was unlike the countless ones I'd seen before.
The dress was the lightest of pinks, the sleeves falling off the shoulders. It was floor-length and the chiffon material fell elegantly towards the mannequin's feet. It was simple, yet beautiful, and I'd forgotten that Max was standing beside me.
He opened his mouth to speak, but a grin stretched across his lips when his gaze followed mine.
"Sorry." I shook my head, beginning to walk away. "I just got distracted."
Max grabbed my arm and pulled me back, pointing to the dress.
"Do you like this?" He asked, excitement in his voice.
I nodded, and turned to leave again.
"I do, but it's probably absurdly expensive."
Before I could keep walking, I found myself being pulled away from the sidewalk and into the boutique, an eager Max by my side. Within seconds, he was speaking to the shopkeeper animatedly, pointing towards the dress.
I stood sheepishly, scanning the endless dresses that graced the store. But the one I'd seen was the most beautiful. My feet carried me over to where a stand held the price in front of the dress. As I peered closer, my eyes widened.
I was right. Way too expensive.
But before I could look at it any longer, Max took it off the stand and held it out in front of him.
"Go try it on," he urged, extending it for me to take. "If you don't, I will."
I laughed after imagining the sight.
Rolling my eyes, I walked past him and towards the exit.
"Don't be crazy, it's too much money."
Max jumped in front of my tracks, laying the dress into my arms.
"Live like you're dying, remember?" His wide eyes were full of hope as he reminded me of the promise we'd made each other. With one final glance between the dress and his hopeful expression, I sighed in defeat.
»»————- ————-««
As I stared in the mirror of the dressing room, I felt exhilarated. The dress fit perfectly, hugging my curves where appropriate and falling like a waterfall to my feet. The light color was a flattering contrast against my darker complexion, and the brown in my eyes seemed almost lighter.
Taking a deep breath, I pushed aside the curtains and stepped out of the dressing room, placing both hands on my hips. Max looked up from where he'd been reading a nearby book, his green eyes widening, mouth slightly agape. He stood to his feet, walking closer to me, eyes scanning me from head to toe, and finally meeting mine.
Finally, he seemed to regain his composure, but the distance between the two of us was still small.
"Amora," he whispered, "You are beautiful."
It didn't take many words from him to make butterflies dance in my stomach. And those three simple words sounded extravagant leaving his lips, making a part of me melt. I smiled in response, trying desperately to hide my blush.
His hand reached up and he slowly unclasped the clip that was holding my hair up in a bun, allowing it to fall down my shoulders and back, the rose behind my ear still intact.
"Perfezionare." He smiled, ignoring to translate that word. But I had a feeling I knew what it meant.
I stepped back, feeling my stomach churn with something I couldn't describe, and cleared my throat.
"Time to return to reality." I sighed as I backed into the dressing room.
Max shook his head rapidly, taking my hand and pulling me back.
"Keep it on!"
"No way," I looked down at the material, upset that I'd have to say goodbye soon, "It's too much money."
Before I could protest, Max grabbed my backpack and led me out of the dressing room and back into the shop. I tugged his arm, desperately trying to stop him in his tracks.
"Seriously, Max." My tone was serious now, but he didn't seem affected. He simply stared at me, his eyes gleaming. "Where will I even wear this? And I can't let you buy it for me."
He shook his head in disappointment, a sigh escaping his lips.
"I have an idea. And you can pay me back, I promise."
It was hard to say no to him, and a part of me couldn't imagine parting from the dress. So I nodded, and he jumped in victory.
»»————- ————-««
We found ourselves in front of Palazzo Brancaccio, a mansion not too far from the Colosseum, which had found a special place in my heart. It was a massive concrete building, but different from the museums and historic sites I'd seen. It was surrounded by women in elegant dresses and men gracing suits.
"Have you ever been to a wedding?" Max asked from beside me, staring at the grand building. I was still adorning the dress he'd bought me, and my stomach churned with excitement.
"Never."
He looked down at me, eyes full of mischief.
"Have you ever crashed a wedding?"
My eyes widened and a smile spread across my lips.
"Isn't that like... illegal?"
Max nodded. "As is sneaking into the Colosseum. And look, we're already dressed for the occasion."
He had a point; he was dressed flawlessly as always, and my dress was just formal enough for an event such as a wedding. Burying the concern and fear deep inside me, I laced my fingers in his.
"Mi fido di te." My pronunciation wasn't clean, and I felt nervous that I'd completely butchered the sentence. But something about the way that Max's grin grew and his eyes shined with appreciation told me that he had understood my words.
"I trust you," I had said.
I wanted to speak to Max in his own language for a change. He spoke to me in Italian and English, and other languages known only to the two of us through his eyes. The reaction it elicited was enough to make me smile contently.
He watched me in wonderment, and squeezed my hand in his, before our legs carried us to the entrance. We fell into line behind other guests, and I began to grow nervous.
"He's checking names off of a list. How are we going to get in?"
Max pursed his lips and then pulled me closer to his side, whispering into my ear.
"Just follow my lead."
His breath brushed against my ear, sending chills down my spine. I placed a hand on his arm, managing to plaster a smile across my lips once we reached the man in charge of letting people in. He seemed to be middle-aged, and extremely bored with his job.
"Name?" He asked, and that's when I noted his American accent. This wasn't an Italian wedding--it was an American one. So we were in my playing field.
I could tell that Max was taken aback. Whatever his plan was probably wouldn't work now. I squeezed his hand, and stepped closer to the man. It seemed that I needed to improvise for a change.
"Johnsons. Mister and misses." My fingers were crossed as his eyes scanned the list of guests. His bored gaze met mine and he shook his head.
"Nope, sorry. You're not on the list."
I cursed to myself. It was such a common name that I'd figured chances were it was on the list. Feigning shock, I let go of Max's hand and peered over the man's shoulder and onto the list. Above the paper were written the words "Jason & Ashley's Guest List."
"That's ridiculous!" I threw my hands in the air in exasperation. Max watched, trying to suppress a smirk. The people behind us were growing impatient. As if on queue, a man dressed in a tuxedo walked over with a concern look on his face. His outfit seemed the most expensive, and by the way that he had been greeting guests, he seemed to be important. The groom.
"Is there a problem here?" He asked the man with the guest list, his blue eyes glancing between the two of us and the indifferent man. Before he could speak, I threw my arms around the groom in an embrace, my heart racing with adrenaline.
"Jason!" I squealed, placing my hands on his arms. "So nice to see you again. It seems we're not on the list... we sent our RSVP's a little late, but Ashley did confirm with us..."
I feigned hurt and confusion, and Max nodded his head beside me. Jason cocked his head to the side, struggling to recognize us. I held my breath, praying this was going to work.
"Good to see you again, man." Max feigned a smooth American accent, his voice a bit deeper, shaking hands with a puzzled Jason. He nodded slowly, the gears turning in his head. Someone called his name urgently from within the building, and he glanced behind his shoulder and back at us.
Finally, a smile spread across his lips.
"Of course, come in. I apologize for that."
Max squeezed my hand and we followed Jason into the venue, our hearts racing against one another's. When he finally left to attend to his affairs, Max and I both exhaled with relief.
"That was amazing!" Max exclaimed, picking me up into the air. I laughed heartily, feeling more alive than ever.
"Says you! Where did that American accent come from?" I stared at him, my jaw slightly open. It was flawless, his Italian accent completely concealed.
Max winked, taking my hand once again.
"I've been spending a lot of time with an American lately."
Never had I seen anything so extravagant as the Palazzo Brancaccio. It was in the likes of something straight out of a movie. Royal. The walls and decor were adorned with gold and a regal maroon, with grand chandeliers hovering above us. It was breathtaking.
Even though we'd been at the reception for nearly an hour now, we found ourselves still in awe of its magnificence. We went from guest to guest, and had feigned identities as the Johnsons. A married couple who knew Jason and Ashley though Ashley's workplace... which we found out was in a law firm.
We were living the night with different identities; wearing masks of sorts. We were whoever people believed us to be.
When the lights were dim and a band began to fill the atmosphere with upbeat music, people made their ways to the dance floor. Max stood up in front of me. We sat at a table near the back, enjoying the desserts that were not meant for us. I knew it wasn't right, but it didn't matter much to us.
"May I have a dance?" He asked, holding his hand out for me to take. My eyes widened and I shook my head rapidly, placing the glass of wine in my hand on the table.
"I'm not getting on that floor." I spoke stubbornly, crossing my arms across my chest. People on the dance floor moved with elegance, their feet moving swiftly and to the rhythm. "I'm a terrible dancer."
Max pouted, not retracted his hand.
"You owe me for the dress. A dance can resolve your debt." The grin on his face made it obvious that he knew he'd won. I reluctantly placed my hand in his and let him guide me to the dance floor. And right as we stepped into the sea of people, the music changed. Slow, romantic melodies swam in the air. Many people left, but the couples remained, swaying in the darkness to the music.
Max placed his hands on my waist, and my arms naturally hooked behind his neck. We were only inches apart, and my heart was thumping against my chest, threatening to beat out of it at any second.
As we swayed side to side, I took in his emerald eyes, and the beauty that he didn't know he possessed. It seemed that no matter where we went, he would absorb the light, rendering the rest of the room dull until his presence filled it with colors. His charm was undeniable, especially that night. The way his eyes bore into mine was indescribable. Better left unspoken about.
I don't know when, but my forehead found a place to rest against his. His grip on my waist was gentle, but firm. Like he wouldn't let go. And my thumbs played with the hair above the nape of his neck.
I was living a dream, and Max was its star.
It was us two and the music.
"You've never danced with anyone before, have you?" He asked, his voice low. A whisper welcomed by only our ears. How he read me so well was beyond me.
A soft laugh escaped my lips, but it was silenced when I saw his eyes swimming with emotions I couldn't place.
"Am I that terrible?"
His arms tightened around me as if he was scared I'd vanish, and his expression fell serious. All traces of humor were gone.
"Amora," he whispered, closing his eyes, and opening them again. Green and burning with passion, flames that reached out and met my own.
"Yeah?" My voice was feeble and goosebumps found home on my bare arms.
"You deserve someone who brings you flowers and dances with you. Please don't settle for less."
When I looked into his eyes, they were holding a type of sadness that was painful to see. Not for himself, but for me.
Each individual word was a pang to my chest. He wasn't insinuating that I should be with him; he was upset that the man I was with before didn't give me any of what Max had showed me in a matter of days. And he had years to do it.
Max knew our time together with me was limited, and it seeped through his words every now and then. They were little goodbyes left unsaid, masked in delicate words and poetry.
Time stood still as we swayed side to side, relishing in the presence of one another. My head found a spot to rest against his chest, so that I could feel the fast beats of his heart, more beautiful than the music encompassing us.
"Do you have any regrets, Max?" I found myself asking, peering up at him through thoughtful eyes. He didn't have to think about it; he shook his head side to side.
"No regrets. I've learned to listen to my heart. And it's paid off."
His sweet words sang a song without ever knowing. One so pleasant that it left me in a trance. Is this how it felt to fall for someone? I was standing, my feet anchored to the ground, yet every other piece of me was with Max. A boy I'd known for only days.
Our trance was broken when the music ceased abruptly. The lights brightened, and Max and I jumped apart slightly. Something about the darkness was magical. It seemed that we were different people then.
A couple was storming towards us. And when we recognized them as Jason and Ashley, Max and I looked at each other and gulped. He took my hand and we ran, pushing people aside as we were chased down by security guards.
As my feet followed Max, I glanced back and the grand venue. We didn't belong there, yet it felt natural because we had been together. It seemed that I found something I was never meant to find, and the feeling was indescribable.
We stumbled down stairs, ignoring the shouting of security guards, adrenaline pumping through our veins. And we found ourselves far from the venue, staring back at it longingly. Another monument of our secrets.
And I found myself stopping abruptly. Not because I was tired, but because my mind was racing with questions I needed to ask.
Max stumbled to a stop next to me, not dropping my hand. His eyebrows furrowed in concern and he tried to read my expression, to no avail.
"Is something wrong?"
My breathing was erratic, my heart in pain from something I couldn't place. He promised he wouldn't let me hurt, and I was right to believe him. But now, underneath the clear night, I found myself wanting more from him than just a promise.
"What are the chances that..." I took a deep breath, taking his other hand in mine. "That you'll be okay?"
Max laughed, his eyes shining with curiosity. Not a hint of sadness.
"Don't say 'solo dettagli,' Max." My voice was stern. "What are the chances?"
He nodded, acknowledging my request. He licked his lips and glanced at the ground before meeting my eyes, which were glazed with unwelcome tears. My chest was rising and falling at a fast pace as I yearned for the words I wanted to hear.
The green in his eyes was darker.
"It's not very likely." His words were quiet, delicate, as his thumb wiped a stray tear from my cheek. I hadn't meant to cry, but something about the night left my emotions out of control.
"The chances of the two of us meeting were slimmer," I pointed out childishly. At this point, I was trying to bargain. I was desperate. And I didn't know why.
Gently, he wrapped his arms around me in warm embrace. I laid my head against his chest, the lingering scent of his cologne feeling like a home I'd never get to experience.
"I'm afraid it doesn't work that way, Amora." His hands remained entangled in my hair, and I felt something deep within me sink.
The sadness I left America with was not the same sadness my heart carried now. It was different.
It was more painful, because it was entangled with flowers and dances and a Max, and that made all the difference.
»»————- ————-««
photo credit: https://www.residenzedepoca.it/en/weddings/s/luxury_location/palazzo_brancaccio/