Page 26 of It's All Sun and Games

‘Bellissimo,’ I repeat back to him but, nope, it sounds awful in my accent.

‘You never did learn Italian, no?’ Andrea says with a knowing smile.

I shake my head.

‘Would you like me to come inside with you, to help you check in? Just in case?’ he kindly asks.

I want to say yes, but my mouth has other ideas. I suppose it would be awkward, if anyone from work saw us together, because how on earth would I explain this one?

‘Oh, that’s okay,’ I tell him. ‘Someone from work should be around so… I’m sure I’ll be fine.’

His smile falters, ever so slightly, like he might just have taken that as a rejection.

I avert my eyes awkwardly, looking out of the window again. We’re just passing the main hotel – a large, pristinely white building with a sweeping staircase that leads up to ornate double doors, flanked by towering columns that only add to the sense of grandeur. I can say right now, without a moment of hesitation, that I could not afford to stay here if I were paying myself. Good on Rick, for shoehorning his wedding onto the end of the work trip, because it’s truly beautiful here.

Andrea pulls into a parking space and, once again, we both freeze, staring at one another.

‘Well, thank you for the lift,’ I tell him, breaking the silence.

‘Anytime,’ he says. ‘And you have my number now so, if you have any time, and you do want to get that drink… Although maybe it’s weird now, no?’

‘Yeah, I can see what I’m doing with work,’ I reply, which is funny, because my brain is screaming at me to take him up on his offer, to go for a drink with him, but my mouth is – for some reason – playing it cool. I suppose it’s because he seems to backtrack on his suggestion, seconds after it leaves his lips.

‘The least I can do is get your luggage out of the car for you,’ Andrea says, springing to action.

I suppose that’s my cue to get out of the car too.

I open the door and the heat from the sun comes flooding in – I guess the car aircon was doing a lot – and, while I might feel out of my comfort zone in the summer dress I’m wearing, I certainly feel nice and cool. It’s a long, almost gold-coloured thing in a silky material that cascades down my body and just about brushes the floor. It’s the kind of flattering fit that you only seem to get if you spend a small fortune, but speculate to accumulate, right?

I suppose, as out of my comfort zone as I do feel in it, confusingly, I feel oddly good about myself. I’m not one for light colours or delicate spaghetti straps (although, when in Italy, I guess) but here they just feel right. Perhaps this is the start of a new and improved me.

Of course, the second I step out of the car, the old me comes charging back. I somehow manage to step on the front of my dress, meaning that as I stand up it is trapped underneath my feet, and it tears the spaghetti straps clean off. I gasp as I feel the dress simultaneously falling down at the front and the back, and it would have dropped to the floor had I not managed to catch it at the front. Andrea brings my luggage around to me and the sight that greets him is me, in my ripped dress, which I am holding to my body by seemingly cupping my own boobs. It’s been about four seconds.

‘Robin, what happened?’ Andrea asks – and, God love him, he doesn’t even smile. He has every right to be pissing himself right now but, like the gent it turns out he is, he only seems to be concerned for me.

‘Ripped my dress,’ I say simply, in a whomp-whomp kind of tone, the kind that suggests this sort of thing happens to me all the time.

‘Let me carry your luggage inside for you, help you check in,’ Andrea says. ‘I’ll carry these, you…’

‘…Carry these?’ I dare to joke.

I quickly but carefully switch from holding my left boob in my left hand, and my right boob in my right hand, so that my hands are crossed in front of my chest, which I’m hoping will look a little more natural… for what it’s worth.

‘Come on, let’s get you inside so you can change,’ Andrea says, the corners of his mouth twitching into a grin.

I nod before following him to the hotel, keeping close behind him, hoping no one spots me.

As we step into the lobby, I’m almost overwhelmed by the sheer luxury of the space. I thought outside looked amazing but inside is even more spectacular. The air is filled with the soft murmur of conversation and the soft tinkling of a live pianist, working his magic over by the bar. The lobby has a white marble floor that is so shiny I can see my reflection in it, and super-high ceilings adorned with ornate lights. I bet it looks even more beautiful on an evening.

‘It’s like something out of a movie,’ I murmur, my eyes wide as I struggle to take them from the artwork painted on the ceiling above. But when I eventually do start looking where I’m going again, I realise that we are just a few steps away from Rick, James and two Italian men.

Rick looks like he’s in a bit of a flap. He’s alternating between looking at his phone and shouting loudly at the two men (who don’t look like they work here) in front of him. I think he’s trying to speak Italian, and he’s doing an even worse job than I am.

‘Robin?’ James blurts as I catch his eye.

I notice him look me up and down, then he looks at Andrea, then back to me. Because of course I’m going to bump into my work crush when I’m literally holding my tits in my hands.

‘Hello,’ I say brightly.

---