With the camera clutched against my chest, I run through the speculating crowd. The faster I run, the more uncomfortable the damp clothes against my skin becomes.
After a block and a half, I check over my shoulder to find Marcel folded with his hands on his knees. You have long legs for nothing, sir. Trying to rid himself of the excess water, he shakes his head. Ultimately, showering a woman trying to enjoy a churro.
Pressing myself against the nearest wall, I smooth my hands over my dripping hair. Mocking me, water runs down my back and into my boots. Needing to wring my hair, I set the camera on the windowsill of a pizza parlor. Within no time, my tight curls begin to form. Taking a moment to recover, I too bend over, set my hands on my knees to catch my breath.
As a familiar shadow grows beside me, I ignore it and peel off my shirt.
"Angel." Marcel picks up his unharmed camera.
Don't talk to me.
I steal a glimpse of him before wringing my top. Marcel stands before me and turns his head as I redress. When I finish, I tuck my curly locks behind my ears and grab the hem of his shirt.
"Take it off," I reveal his abs and tattoos without his given permission.
Allowing, Marcel lifts his arms as I pull it over his head. As I'm wringing the t-shirt to my side, I take a peek of him. He scoffs with a knowing smile. Nothing's funny.
"I shouldn't give it back." I push it against his stomach, causing him to snatch a sharp breath.
His tongue traces his bottom teeth as he takes note of my revenge. "You said you wanted to go swimming." He wrings his curls as I'm sending him daggers. Raking my eyes from him, I walk away without another word. "Where are you going?"
"The hotel!"
"I like your shirt." He compliments. My black bra is all that's left to protect me from further embarrassment. Flipping him off, I continue my march. "The hotel is this way, baby." He redirects.
I can imagine the smirk on his face. Sighing at my misroute, I stop half a block down. Why is this my life? Locking my arms across my chest, I debate getting a different hotel. Is that being dramatic?
I cross the street. From the corner of my eye, I see Marcel hasn't moved. He knows I'm mad, that's why he kept his ass on the other sidewalk.
I have to give thanks to the Venetian sun for it helped partially dry my clothes. I dreaded walking into my hotel soaking wet and draped in a see-through shirt.
Marcel didn't say a thing as we shared the elevator. Trust me, I tried closing the door on him, but you know how these doors are. I felt him peeking over to me when his eyes weren't turned to the ground. I let my anger further be known once we got into the suite and I closed the door in his face.
Entering my room, I leave Marcel on the other side as well.
"C'mon Angel." Marcel's apologetic knock taps against the dividing door. "You can't be mad at me forever." He knocks again. "I'm sorry." The sound is barely audible, but I hear Marcel sigh in defeat. Ditching him to douse in his own regret, I go into the bathroom to clean myself up.
After a shower, I change into a white, Bardot, maxi dress. Push me into another canal if you want to. Half of my coiled hair is pinned back and the other half is out to bounce. A few pieces frame my naturally made-up face.
Prepared for a solo day on the town, I grab my key card from the dresser and head for my closed bedroom door. To avoid mishaps, I stick the card into my marble crossbody as I step into the living room.
I find a fresh and clean Marcel lazily sitting in a chair, pondering with his finger sitting in the part of his lips. His thumb's skimming past his bottom lip as he stares off into space. Realizing he's no longer alone, his eyes cut through me. Mine flick to the lonely, red rose in his hand.
This staredown can't be good for my soul. I can feel it rattling within me as Marcel gets up from the chair. His eyes trickle away from my gaze to acknowledge my outfit change.
"I'm sorry for pushing you into the canal." Marcel pulls his lips into his mouth, hoping for forgiveness. My eyes fall to the flower, wondering if it's mine. "Oh," Forgetting, he lifts the rose between us. "This is my peace offering."
Before retrieving the blossom, I analyze it, allowing silence to hover over us. As I pluck the flower from Marcel's fingers, his eyes have a tough time staying glued to my direct ones. Instead, he chooses to focus on the rose.
As I hold it sideways, Marcel bumps a brow, questioning the unusual adjustment. Pinching the stem, I snap it between my polished fingers then toss half to the side. Marcel's eyes follow the fallen plant. Avoiding his hurt expression, I return to my bedroom.
MARCEL
I... just realized how bad I fucked up.
Angel has never cursed at me with the venom intended to sting. I never knew she had a vein that divided her forehead.
As she stomped away from me, she stomped on my pride. I play too much. I knew her idea of swimming didn't include a disgusting, overused canal. I'm sure she envisioned more of the Roman statues overlooking her and the pool as she wore the white, triangle bikini I spied in her luggage.
After several closed doors and the sound of the shower, I sprinted out of the shared suite. Yes, wet clothes and all.
Ditching the hindrance of a confusing GPS, I jog down the street searching the nooks and crannies for a gift to present Angel with. Instead, I found those playful boys from earlier. Sure of my distress, they wanted to cheer me up with a game of soccer. Sadly, I had to let the little guys down. Shit, that's not your first time disappointing someone today, mate.
After seeing one of the kids waving his hand past his nose and another covering his face with his clean shirt, I bring mine in for an uncivil whiff. Choking, I drop the clothing. I wish the insolent scent would bid me farewell, but that can't happen until I find something for Angel. This is another punishment that I rightfully deserve.
Offended themselves, the aspiring, miniature soccer players begged for an explanation behind my shuffled mane and audacious, semi-wet clothing. Crouching down, I relive my faults with them. I was expecting high-pitched giggles and uncontrollable laughter, but instead, each one of them shared their disapproval through winces and grimaces. Fuck... I really screwed up.
I suggested flowers, but they told me there wasn't a shop for a few blocks. I didn't know how long Angel was going to stay in the suite and I wanted to apologize before she left. I figured I didn't have time to run blocks.
After some pondering, the kids told me to follow them up the street. We stopped in front of a home with a colorful and abundant garden. As I eyed the flowers, the boys stood with small smirks, smiles, and folded arms as if they had found the solution to my dilemma.
My first thought was that I'm no thief. I couldn't violate this stranger's garden for my own selfish reasons... but was my reason truly selfish? Gnawing on my bottom lip, I checked the morals that stood between the kids and the free blossoms.
From the corner of my eye, I saw one of the kids trying to slide between the gate. The last thing I needed was for the boy's head to get stuck between the bars of the black, railed entrance. Before he could get his ears past, I tugged him back and jumped the 4-foot entry.
Charging towards the porch and the red, spiraling petals, I squatted down to grab the stem of a rose. Dumb. Instant regret. I wasn't thinking. Hurt like hell. I know I'm bleeding. I had some twisting and turning to do until the stem broke off. Relieved, a chuckle slipped my lips as I bowed my head – victoriously shaking the gift between my pinched and pricked fingers.
Suddenly, the kids started shouting. By the time I looked back, they were throwing their arms and pointing ahead. Without prying the thorns from my embedded palm, I pushed my damp-ends out of my face to discover an unarguably upset man unlocking the screen of his door. Shit.
Before I could gather another thought, I'm cutting through the yard as the kids were racing and shoving each other down the cobblestones. All I heard behind me was a furious language I couldn't understand. After jumping the fence, I followed the scattering boys. I gave a new meaning to air-dried clothes.
Down the street, I leaned against another fence to secure my heart behind its ribcage. Even though I did wrong, the kids rewarded me with applause and high fives that I couldn't take pride in. I've had enough guilt for one day. I didn't feel right until I had a brief talk with them about taking things that didn't belong to them. The boys followed me back to the hotel and wished me luck with my girl friend.
With all that trouble, it hurt something in me to see Angel break the stolen flower between her fingertips. My heart dropped and a chill shivered me to the bone as I watched her go back into her room and close the door. Picking up the stem, I tapped it against my open, yet nicked palm.
ANGEL
After a couple of moments, I stroll back into the quiet living room. Marcel is in the same spot that I left him in, but now, with the broken stem in his hands. He is such a puppy.
Continuing my stride, I pass him and herald, "I'm going to get something to eat. Then, I'm going to Doge's Palace." I check over to spy him smiling at the pinned flower in my hair. "Are you coming?" I invite.
Marcel graciously bows his head. "Yes, I'm coming."