I didn't really give it any serious thought.I considered various options, but nothing truly settled in my mind.
The summer had been quite hectic.Right after school ended, my family and I took a trip to London.We did plenty of walking as we explored Windsor Castle, and I couldn't resist visiting the Harry Potter studio—I was a huge fan of the books, and the movies were pretty enjoyable too.We also checked out a few museums that didn't particularly excite me, though my mom was eager to see them.Overall, it was a fantastic trip, except for the rain.I despised how one moment it was bright and sunny, and the next, no umbrella could save you.
Traveling was our family's tradition.Flying or just taking a road trip whenever the opportunity arose, we were always on the move.This was something I looked forward to, as it could be meticulously planned or simply spontaneous, but it was never dull.
My parents had a rather adaptable routine.My mother was a photographer who ran her own small studio, while my father, a dentist, had the flexibility to take time off whenever necessary.
We were an incredibly happy family, and I felt enveloped in love as I grew up.We spent countless hours together, and I had constantly strived to make them proud, aspiring to be the ideal daughter.
I avoided conflicts and anger; instead, we focused on open communication.Well, I did most of the talking, particularly with my dad.To put it simply, I confided in him, and he, in turn, relayed things to my mom if any issues arose.He was our Switzerland.
I tried to get along with my mother by pleasing her, hoping to prevent any hint of disappointment from showing in her warm, brown eyes.So far, I believed I had succeeded.
Once we got back, I spent a whole month camping at the beach with Emily and Jessica.It was a fun-filled community with pools, a beach, and endless entertainment.Of course, Marco tried to come by every few days, probably to ensure that no handsome lifeguards would sweep me off my feet.I had to admit, the lifeguards were all fit, tanned, glistening, and definitely attractive.But I loved Marco; he had been my boyfriend for eight months now.
I was lost in my memories, reminiscing about summer, completely forgetting my parents were still waiting for a response.
“Oh, I'm so sorry!I haven't really thought about it lately, but I promise I will.”My mother exchanged a glance with my father, and we all shared a light smile before starting our dinner.
“How about some red wine?”Dad suggested.“Uncle Gabriel brought it this morning; he made it himself from the grapes he grew in his backyard.”Like many Italian families did, we raised our glasses and toasted together.
I finished my dinner pretty quickly since I needed to dry my hair before Marco arrived.Just as I was about to stand up, my mom chimed in, “Make sure you dry your hair!You know it'll get all frizzy.Your long, ash-blond locks are gorgeous, so take good care of them!”I nodded as I made my way to the sink and placed my plate inside it.“I will, Mom, don't worry.”
I headed upstairs to the bathroom, my hair still damp.I applied some oil and worked it through my wavy locks.They used to be towheaded when I was younger, but now they had deepened to a darker shade.After I finished drying my hair, I caught the sound of voices coming from downstairs.It seemed likely that my father had caught Marco just long enough to give him the usual scare.
“Dad, please stop harassing my boyfriend.”I shouted from my room, hoping he could hear me.
“You know I'll never be on board with the idea of you having a boyfriend.”
“I know, and I love you too.”
My parents approved of Marco, though.We had been friends since we were little kids, growing up just a few houses apart.His house was at the end of the street.We were the only kids around, and being the same age meant we had plenty in common.He was in my class in elementary school, and even when we were separated in middle school, we still saw each other during breaks and on the bus.He was my best friend.
When I heard him coming up the stairs, I quickly went to open the door.He smiled, showcasing his perfectly aligned teeth and those warm, russet-brown eyes that made my heart flutter.
“I think it's time to trim those black curls,” I teased, wrapping my arms around his neck and pressing myself against him.His lips were a perfect shade of pink, and I couldn't resist the urge to kiss them.He smelled like fresh cotton and peaches—a familiar scent I'd grown up with.
“I told you I wouldn't cut them until our first anniversary.Besides, I thought you liked grabbing my hair.”
“Shhhh… are you crazy?Just come inside and shut the door.”
“Are you really planning to let that hair grow for another four months?”I asked as I settled onto my bed.
“Yep…” he replied, a mischievous grin playing on his lips.
He stood there, gazing at me with an intensity that made my heart race.His beauty was undeniable; his skin had a pale radiance, and his once-boyish features were evolving into something more refined with every passing day.I could see his shoulders broadening.
I couldn't help but reminisce about our first kiss—that day in the park when we played spin the bottle with a dozen friends.We were both just 15.When the bottle landed on me, we stood up, inching closer.He looked at me like I was just a friend, but when his lips met mine, my eyes widened with surprise.
His were shut tight, and, as if on cue, he pulled back an instant later, our eyes locking in a moment of shared embarrassment.We both blushed fiercely, and for the first time, I experienced what they called “butterflies in my stomach.”Laughter erupted around us, teasing and poking fun, but something had shifted between us.
It took us more than two years to acknowledge it, but on his birthday in January, he kissed me again, and this time it was anything but childish.
“Come here, I need a hug,” I said, opening my arms wide and inviting him to join me on the bed.
“Your dad will be here soon,” he reminded me.I glanced at my phone, checking the time.“We've got about four minutes to spare,” I replied.I braced myself for his usual entrance, always so punctual, ready to ask a question or deliver something.He could be a bit overprotective at times.
“I think I can come up with something in four minutes,” he teased, flashing a playful grin.
