Chapter 36
We stood before a grand set of double doors, crafted from dark wood and adorned with intricate lion-head knockers, and flanked by an arched window situated above.
To the left, a doorbell equipped with a camera caught Zane’s attention, and he pressed the button.
After a brief wait, the door buzzed and swung open.
Upon entering, we were greeted by a narrow hallway, its floor decorated with colorful tiny stone mosaics.
Small bronze statues added charm to the space, and a tall, antique wooden front desk beckoned us.
A young woman welcomed us with a warm smile.
While Zane checked us in, I admired the beautifully curated interior.
Shortly, she gestured for us to follow her up a narrow staircase to the second floor. We arrived at another bright hallway lined with six white doors—three on each side. She unlocked one door, inviting us inside without stepping in herself, wishing us an enjoyable stay before taking her leave.
The room was airy and spacious, with white walls and high ceilings adorned with light wooden beams. A queen-sized metal bed dressed in crisp white sheets and a dusty pink bedspread was positioned on the right side next to the door.
On the opposite side, a small cherry wood desk with two drawers sat beneath a mounted television.
The bathroom, located to the left, was compact with just a shower.
A single window overlooked a neighboring building, offering no worthwhile view.
The parquet floor was worn with age, yet the room retained a pleasant scent.
Zane placed his backpack on the armchair in the corner and turned to me, an air of bashfulness about him. I felt a whirlwind of emotions swirling within me, making it difficult to pinpoint exactly how I felt.
“I think we should change and head out for dinner; it's getting late,” Zane suggested, his hands tucked into his pockets.
“Absolutely, I'll change,” I replied, gesturing toward the bathroom. Although I knew we would soon find ourselves in a more intimate situation, the thought of changing in front of him made me feel uneasy.
I slipped into the bathroom and set my bag on the floor.
Glancing at the mirror, I noticed my pale complexion.
Opting for a touch of lipstick, mascara, and a hint of blush, I changed into a romantic pastel pink floral sundress paired with my white Nikes.
I avoided sandals, knowing the cold would make me shiver even more.
To finish the look, I added a cropped leather jacket for warmth.
After a quick change, I stepped back into the room and found Zane shirtless, pulling a shirt from his backpack. My heart raced at the sight of his bare skin.
“It's a bit wrinkled,” I said with a grin.
“I know, but I didn't want to carry it on a hanger; my dad would get suspicious,” he replied, returning my smile as I glanced at the black shirt in his hand.
“Shouldn't there be an iron around here?” I asked, scanning the room. I opened the built-in closet and, to my relief, found an iron. I quickly plugged it in and pulled out the ironing board. Zane stepped closer, but I took the shirt from him.
“Let me take care of it,” I said softly. He hesitated for a moment.
“It's alright; I can manage,” he replied gratefully.
“Please, I insist,” I urged. After a brief pause, he surrendered the shirt and stepped back to sit on the edge of the bed, his gaze fixed on me. I stole glances at him, battling the strong urge to walk over and kiss him.
“You look beautiful today,” he said softly.
“Thank you,” I replied with a smile. Once I finished ironing, I offered to help him dress.
Zane rose from the bed and turned his back to me, and slid his arms into the sleeves.
When he turned around, I instinctively began to button up his shirt, and he chuckled.
“What's so funny?” I asked, a bit annoyed.
“Nothing,” he said, still smiling. “Thank you,” he quickly added. I nodded, and then he cupped my face gently, leaning in to press his lips against mine, igniting a longing for more.
“Ready to go?” he asked.
“Ready,” I responded. I grabbed my bag, Zane took the keys, and together we stepped out, locking the door behind us. Following the same path as we entered, we soon found ourselves amidst a bustling crowd.
Zane’s grip on my hand was firm, my palm growing clammy, which only added to my unease.
“How about we grab a bite here?” he suggested, pointing toward a rustic little restaurant.
I nodded, relieved when he finally let go of my hand.
I quickly attempted to dry it on my dress, but he caught me in the act, leaving me feeling a bit embarrassed.
We settled into a cozy table for two by the window, and the waiter promptly brought us water and bread.
I found myself wishing for something stronger to help manage the tornado of emotions churning inside me.
“What are you in the mood for?” Zane asked, scanning the menu.
I wasn't particularly hungry; my mind was too preoccupied with thoughts of what lay ahead.
Still, I knew I needed to order something to avoid an embarrassing rumble from my stomach.
Zane chose pasta, while I opted for a light fish fillet, both accompanied by a glass of white wine.
He mostly kept quiet, his amber gaze fixed on me as I stared back. Our conversation drifted to Rome and various intriguing facts that Zane shared. The wine helped ease the tension a bit.
“So, how does it feel?” he asked, tilting his head slightly.
“What do you mean?” I replied, uncertain of his question.
“Playing adults,” he clarified.
“Oh, so this is just a game?” I laughed, “And how old do you think you are?” I added.
“I believe I'm 25. How about you?” he asked with genuine curiosity.
“I'd say around 23,” I answered, seeking his approval.
“This is nice; I wish we could stay here a bit longer,” Zane remarked, his expression turning serious.
“I wish that too,” I admitted, my honesty surprising even myself.
“Do you think we're hurrying into adulthood?” he pondered.
“I think we just want the freedom to pursue what we love,” I replied.
That was my desire: to be here without sneaking around, to make my own choices in life—who to date, how to live, what to eat, and what career path to take.
Just a few months left until everything changes, and I wondered about Zane’s future plans—was he staying? Moving? Did I fit into his vision?
“Let's make a toast.” Zane raised his glass. “To new beginnings in adulthood.”
“Cheers,” I replied, taking a sip, hoping to believe that I was part of this new chapter too.
Our dinner concluded with two espressos, and Zane took care of the bill.
Stepping into the vibrant city, filled with laughter and music, we felt as if we were on the brink of our own story, each moment etched with emotion.
We wandered through Rome's narrow streets and shared dreams for the future.
Zane was animated, bursting with aspirations, and I listened in admiration, wishing to be part of it all.
That evening, we were no longer children; we were two young adults mapping out our futures, exchanging dreams and hopes.
“Look where we are again,” Zane said as we approached the Trevi Fountain.
I hadn't even noticed where we were; my focus had been solely on him.
He took my hand, pulling me closer, and gazed at the sculptures as if they were his favorite sight in the world.
Then, he turned to me, his words hitting me like a thunderbolt.
“If I ever asked you to be my wife, it would only be here.” His tone was serious, and my mouth dropped open as I absorbed the weight of his words, confirming he had been thinking about our future together after all.
“We're still so young; how can you be certain you won't change your mind? We're just starting our lives,” I replied, trying to sound rational. Zane chuckled, his gaze penetrating, as if he wanted me to see straight into his soul.
Time stood still as our gazes danced.
“It's always been you, for quite some time now. You found me and made me yours forever,” he whispered.
I struggled to comprehend his words, but before I could voice my confusion, he kissed me.
The kiss was intense, nearly knocking me off balance, and his grip was firm.
Then, he loosened his hold and drew back slightly.
“Now, I have a question for you,” he said, pausing for effect.
My heart raced, anxious for what was to come.
I felt like I was on fire and like I might spontaneously combust at any moment, as if someone had set a slow and steady match inside me.
“Will you be mine tonight, body and soul?” Zane asked softly, as if the answer would shape our entire future.
“I'm already yours, body and soul, tonight and every day that follows,” I declared, eager to keep my promise.
Thirteen minutes later, we found ourselves back in the room.
I had envisioned this moment countless times, but each time, it had always been filled with urgency, tearing away clothes and colliding into each other like the stories I've read and the films I've watched. The tension that had built up felt like it needed to explode, but I was mistaken.
We stood mere inches apart, close enough to hear our hearts racing and felt his warm breath caressing my face. It wasn't hesitation or fear; it felt more like we were forming a profound connection that was hard to grasp, as if we were in sync.
His amber eyes sparkled with an alluring light that captivated me.
I felt an overwhelming urge to rest my head against his chest, to hear his heartbeat in this moment, to absorb his warmth, to breathe in his scent, and to find solace in his embrace.
So I did, and that hug spoke infinity. The word “happy” barely scratched the surface of what I felt.