Author's Note: Never done first person before. Second story I've written for the site. Feedback and comments are appreciated to help me improve. Not sure I like first person, will probably go back to third before the next submission. Let me know what you think. Better or worse than my other? Also, feel free to submit topic requests for other stories.
The first time I saw him was on the bus. I was site seeing Rome the cheapest way I knew how--By using the public bus with the locals. I turned my head and he caught my eye. I knew he'd seen me, because I could feel his eyes burn right through me. I shifted in my seat, feeling the tension of this single glance jolt through my body. I ran my hands along my legs, gently squeezing my thighs as my hands passed over them, in order to semi-distract myself from the gorgeous man who seemed that he would not take his eyes off of me. I moved my hands and pressed them together between my legs as I sat there, trying to refocus on the scenary around me. Old buildings and centuries of history were exactly the things I came to see, but could not seem to pay attention to as this tall creature passed by me and I caught the scent of his cologne.
Soon enough, he exited the bus and I continued on my way, thinking no more of him as I took in the sights of the city. That night, I returned to the hostel which I was staying at for the night and sat in the common area. There were a few different groups at this particular hostel, and some backpackers, like myself, who were alone. I spent some time on the couch, but as the night began to draw to a close and most of the hostel's occupants disappeared to their beds, I got up to change. I gathered my night clothes and went to the common bathroom in the hall. I didn't mind sharing a room with guys, but that didn't mean I was going to change in front of them. I shut the door and pulled my shirt over my head. When the warm air of the summer night hit my bare skin, I felt a rush and pressed my hands against my face, staring at myself in the mirror. I could feel the head in my cheeks and knew I had been alone too long.
Finally, dressed for bed, I stepped out of the bathroom in my slippers, a tank top and a pair of shorts--sleepwear befitting the temperature of the night. As I looked up, I saw the guy from the bus standing at the counter, paying for a night at the hostel. Not sure if he recognized me or not, I attempted to walk right by him. But he both saw and recognized me. Much to my chagrin as I tried to make my way past him, he said, "Buona sera," with a look that told me he knew where he'd seen me. I felt the heat rise in my cheeks once again as I nodded my head and repeated the same greeting. Luckily, he had to finish his transaction and I could hurry away to my room. I had been bouncing around Europe from hostel to hostel. As such, I had become pretty good at sleeping in a twin bed in a room shared with up to six other people of either gender. I pulled back the sheet and slipped myself under it, the warm weather making a blanked unnecessary. I flipped on the personal light next to my bed and pulled out my journal to write what I had accomplished that day.
A minute or two later, the door opened and I looked up to see my handsome stranger entering the room. The rest of the room was dark and silent, with sleeping figures in each of the beds, save for mine and the one which would be his. I could, however, see him mouth, "Ciao," back lit by the light outside the door. He shut it behind himself and moved across the room to the table set up for us, "The bus," was all he said, I suppose, trying to clue me in to where I'd seen him, but I already knew, so I nodded.
"Why you are not sleeping?" he asked with a heavy accent on his broken English.
I just shrugged, "Can't." I probably could if I tried hard enough, but I couldn't pull my eyes off of him. He was stunning: dark skin, and hair with blue eyes that seemed to burn right through you. His jaw was perfectly cut and the build of his body was just right, not too muscular, but definitely not scrawny.
"You are American, yes?"
I nodded, "What about you, where are you from?" I continued the whisper conversation, not wanting him to stop talking. Something about the accent made him even more attractive.
"Napoli," he responded, sitting down on the chair near the table in the center of the room, resting his elbows against his knees, facing toward me as we spoke. "I am here for a favor to my uncle."
"Your English is very good," was my response, and the minute the words came out of my mouth I instantly regretted them, "I mean, you know what I mean..." But maybe he didn't.
"Thank you, I am always learning more and wanting to be practicing it," he smiled again and I thought my heart might stop. I absently licked between my lips, keeping the eye contact I had with him. "You are here for pleasure?"
The way his voice sounded, the question would've been innocent enough, but being that my mind was already in the gutter just from looking at him, the word pleasure gave me goose bumps and I instantly got nervous, "What?!" My voice got a little louder than it should have and I instantly clapped a hand over my mouth, hoping that I hadn't woken the others. Then it hit me, "Oh, um...vacation? Yeah," now I felt stupid. "I am here to see the city."
"It is beautiful, no?" He asked, standing up and tossing his duffel bag on the bed above mine which apparently would be his.
