We continued, finding small talk in other things until Lily gently tugged my arm away from my body, causing me to slow as she looked at something across the street. A Saturday flea market. It was in a wide side street packed with overflowing stalls, with music and the promise of delicious food.
“Food,” was all Lily said.
My stomach rumbled in answer.
While food was the main factor for why two people like us, with a dislike for most crowds, would venture into a bustling flea market, Lily quickly found another reason to go. Barely three stalls in, her steps slowed at a large collection of tables and small shelves all full of second-hand books.
“I’ll get the food,” I said with a smile and a kiss to her temple before leaving her to peruse alone.
There was a food truck selling hot dogs parked a little way down the packed side street, wedged between a woman selling wooden carvings and a man calling out his fresh produce prices. I ordered two hot dogs and waited back as the food truck attendant got to work.
My eyes drifted casually over the wooden carvings — a hobby I tried once but learned I liked the mechanics of how things worked over how they looked — before I glanced back towards the book stall.
In the bustling crowd, I couldn’t see Lily anymore.
She’s just deeper in the book stall. Nothing to worry about.
“Foods ready,” said the food truck attendant, pulling my attention.
I took the hot dogs and paid. Just as I was pushing my wallet into my back pocket, my ears pricked to the voices of two women speaking fluent Italian.
On the other side of the produce stall, taste-testing cheese, was Beatrice and Lucia Gimello. They hadn’t seen me yet, and I wasn’t waiting around for them to.
I started for the book stall again, weaving through the crowd. With my height, I could see over everyone and spotted Lily instantly as I beelined for her. The gap between us felt like it was getting wider with every step I took. It didn’t help that several strangers chose to walk slowly in front of me, or completely stopped to look around.
We need to fucking leave— I didn’t want them to see her— Where was their brother— Fuck!
My stomach dropped.
I found Lily, but I was still nowhere near her.
She was at the back of the stall. A table of books on her left, a shelf to her right, and a young man standing in front of her. Talking to her. He wore too many gold rings and a white shirt unbuttoned to his stomach.
Gabriele combed a hand through his oily black hair as he grinned at her and looked her over like she was an object for him to observe at his leisure.
There was a roaring in my head. I couldn’t get to her fast enough. She had no idea who she was talking to.
Why is everyone walking so fucking slow?!
Lily had her arms crossed over several books, holding them close to her chest as she offered Gabriele polite but uncomfortable smiles. When she attempted to end the conversation and move past him, Gabriele cut her off, casually bracing an arm on the table to block her exit and bringing himself closer.
Fuck this.
I stopped weaving, ready to flip a goddamn table if I had to, and someone bounced off my arm as I pushed by.
“Hey, I’m walking—”
“Fuck off,” I growled in passing, eyes on Lily and Gabriele as I walked into the stall. The only thought in my head was getting Lily away.
I caught the tail end of their conversation as I approached Lily from behind.
Lily laughed nervously at something Gabriele said. “Oh, no. I’m here with—”
My hand came to her lower back and slid around her waist. “Hey.”
“My boyfriend,” she finished. The tension visibly left her body as she leaned ever so slightly into my side.
Gabriele’s attention slowly drifted from Lily to me, and his demeanor changed from being irritated by the interruption to recognition as he took in my face. A smirk slowly appeared on his lips.
