The stroll was brief, no more than five minutes in a carefree, easy pace. Tina had asked for some tips on what to visit while in Firenze, but she hardly paid any notice to the answer. The way Patricia’s full, red lips moved was too charming, hypnotizing.

One sentence did register, made goosebumps of anticipation run through T.’s arms. Ms. Arpino had been talking about the best places to eat in town, giving general directions that totally went over Ms. Kennard’s head. She stopped midsentence, gave the blonde a friendly smile and said:

‘I could take you to my favorite restaurant at lunch time. What do you think?’ She played with her hair, emerald eyes shining as he sun briefly illuminated them.

Tina had absolutely no idea where her reaction came from. She beamed back as if it were the best idea on Earth, fidgeted nervously with her purse strings and answered: ‘I’d love to. Thank you for being so friendly to me.’ 

‘It’s ok, really. I have the feeling that we’ll get along well.’ Was T. overthinking the whole thing or was there some hidden, ulterior insinuation at these words? ’Anyway, another cool bar…’ 

She blanked out on the rest of the conversation, nodding and making the appropriate noises at the right places, unable to look away from those enchanting lips. Her mind had a hard time wrapping around the thought that, basically, she had a date with a hot Italian whom she’d just met. 

God, what was wrong with her?! It was nothing of the sort! She was just going to have lunch with a very helpful coworker. There was nothing more to it. 

So why the hell was she overreacting? Oscar had taken her out to eat several times; it didn’t mean that he had the hots for her.

But maybe it was because he knew Bette. And Patricia didn’t. 

Perhaps Tina should tell this strange, alluring woman about Bette. However, she’d risk being exposed as a lesbian, and what if Arpino was a homophobe? What if she suddenly stopped being friendly?  

T. didn’t know whether Italian dykes behaved any differently than American ones, due to cultural standards or whatever. Well, take Marina, for example. She was so reserved and mysterious, so utterly exquisite…