16 November 2012
The fancy restaurant was bustling: a line of people were waiting to be seated, waiters were bringing out huge trays of food to the tables, and people were chatting rather obnoxiously.
I simply sat at the crowded table with my fellow tour group, and tipped my head back, swallowing the last few drops of wine from the glass. Leaning back in my seat, satisfied and sleepy, I watched the people at the other tables that were also on the same month long tour, chat with each other. I sighed, feeling rather lonely without my best friend, who I had left behind to go on this journey. I didn't have any particular friends so far, and I was deeply craving for companionship.
But boy did I like Italy. Exploring the place made me exhausted though, and I wanted nothing more than to go to the hotel room and get some sleep, although it was only 6pm.
"What's wrong with you?" I heard someone ask snidely, tearing me out of my sleepy trance.
I looked across the table and over to my left and found the source of the rude tone. It was a guy with dark, buzzed hair. He was gazing intently in my direction with his dark green eyes, but he wasn't staring at me. He was staring at the guy next to me.
The guy next to me kept silent and just continued to stare down at his plate, pushing his food around with his fork. His shaggy, bright blonde hair hid the expression on his face, but the embarrassment was evident as a bright red streak creeping up his pale neck.
I turned to the rude guy and said,"Leave him alone."
The rude guy turned his unforgiving gaze on me. "This isn't any of your business," he spat.
"I know, and I'm not trying to pick a fight. But you shouldn't be trying to pick a fight either," I said, eyeing him intently.
The dude and I stared each other down for a minute, and when it became nearly intolerable, he turned away.
I snuck a peek at the blonde guy, who was slumped over in his chair, not moving. I felt the urge to console him, so I sympathetically patted the blonde guy's shoulder.
He looked up finally, and he startled me with his electric blue eyes. He gave me a steady, emotionless look and then stood up and left the table.
Man, I suck at making friends.
"Okay, everyone! Let's get back onto the bus and head to the hotel!" the guide hollered from the center of the room.
I eagerly stood up, anxious to go to bed and start fresh tomorrow.
I followed the herd of students to the bus to board. As I climbed on, I took a two seater, wishing that there were one seaters so that I wouldn't have to inevitably make more people upset with me.
I reluctantly sat down in the window seat of a two seater in the middle of the bus, and threw my backpack onto the seat next to me. Then I put on my headphones and turned on my iPod, letting John Legend fill my ears. Looking out the window, I watched two lovers happily kiss underneath the street lamp. And then I saw him.
Him and his bright blonde hair was heading toward the bus, then boarding the bus, then I saw him meander slowly down the aisle. He was a tall guy; he had to duck slightly to avoid hitting his head on the ceiling.
His startling electric eyes passed over mine, then locked with mine, and the next thing that I knew, he was right beside the seat that my backpack was in.
"Can I sit here?" he asked, in what was either a British or Australian accent. I'm not very good at differentiating the two.
"Sure," I replied. I moved my bag onto my lap.
He threw himself down onto the seat next to me, making his right knee bump against mine.
"Oh, sorry there," he apologized, looking into my eyes and shifting so that there was more space between us.
"It's okay, I'm tall too," I said lamely. I shifted in my own seat, feeling extremely uncomfortable underneath his electrifying gaze.
He cracked a small, bemused smile, dimples showing, and leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes. I pried my eyes off of his lean body and went back to staring out the window where the couple was still swapping spit.
Eventually the bus was in motion, and I no longer had the pleasure of watching the lovers, so I just flicked through the photos on my iPod. As time progressed, however, my gaze shifted to him. The whole ride to the hotel, he laid there motionless, although he definitely wasn't asleep. He kept tapping his fingers against his thigh.
"Are you okay?" I asked bravely, breaking the silence between us, although the bus was mighty rowdy.
His eyes snapped open then and locked right on mine, making me nervous. "Huh?"
"You keep...uh...tapping..." I mimicked him and he cracked a smile, showing his dimples once again.
"I play the drums. I tend to subscionciously make up rhythms," he explained.
I nodded, turning away, although I could still feel his hot gaze on me.
"I'm James." He held out his hand for me to shake.
"Carrie," I replied, shaking his hand.
"Where are you from?" he asked, retrieving back his hand.
"New York. Y'know, in the US. You?"
"Yeah, I have a cousin that lives there. But I'm from Australia," he replied.
"Cool," I said nonchalantly.
"Do you play any instruments?" he inquired in his lovely accent.
"God, no. I used to though. I played the piano and violin, and I sang. But I can still read music."
"That's impressive," he said.
"Not really. I quit the instruments way before high school."
"Still, you knew learned how to play them."
"Yeah, I guess." I looked at my iPod and changed the song.
"So uh..." he began. He looked down at my iPod as my gaze traveled to his face. "I'm sorry for being such a prick before...when we were eating. You stood up for me and I was just rude. I'm sorry."
He timidly raised his gaze to meet mine, sending chills down the back of my neck.
"It's okay. I butted in."
"You were just being a good friend. And that's just what I need to cure this homesickness," he said more definitely.
"Me too," I replied.
The right corner of his mouth pulled back in a tiny smile and then he put his head back against the seat.
"Are we lost or something? I'm pretty sure it didn't take this long to get to the hotel," he noted while closing his eyes.
I laughed in response and closed my eyes too.
When we awoke half an hour later, and finally at the hotel because we indeed, had gotten lost, my head was on his shoulder and his right arm was strewn across my lap.
But it wasn't weird waking up like that.
Travelers • Opuss № I