yourself to chase him away with all of your pathetic
insecurities.”
Marika nervously chewed her lower lip,
reflecting on Carlotta’s words. Her honesty was enough to send her into
emotional upheaval.
After a round of coffee – some topped with
whipped cream, others spiked with whiskey – the party was taken over by music
and low lighting. Sandra and Giacomo, to everyone’s surprise, were the first
to hit the dance floor, though their swaying, sleepwalker moves were hardly
inspiring.
“Thank God the weed stayed put in
her marshlands tonight,” Carlotta pronounced, walking toward the Christmas tree
that was standing guard over the presents. “After the way I stuffed myself
tonight, I couldn’t have taken even a drop of her.” Livia, Marika’s unwelcome
classmate, had been baptized Livia the weed because you couldn’t get rid
of her, and was pleasantly absent this evening because of a ski vacation with
her parents in the chic resort town of Cortina.
With the lights down low, the atmosphere
in the basement changed, becoming a cocktail of music, sensuality, and fun:
there was an undercurrent of transgression in the air, driven by the sounds of
an Oriental koto that fused with the scratchy vinyl of techno-house. The girls
danced carefree in the middle of the room, where they were made more alluring
and mysterious by the music, which loosened their cultural inhibitions and
created a world of unspoken fantasies. The guys watched from the walls.
As if she was magnetic, Matteo’s eyes
locked onto Marika, and his body followed straight after, slicing through the
cordon of friends in order to be next to her. Moving to the rhythm, he stared
into her eyes, begging her silently not to move away from him, while she,
enchanted by the fragrance of the ocean in his cologne, let herself be
commanded by his wishes in this silly, serious private game.
Many of their friends watched them
surreptitiously – some out of curiosity, others out of dismay – but neither of
them noticed. No one else in the world existed.
Lucrezia, livid over finding herself
relegated to the sidelines, was contorting and grinding her body like a
stripper in a vain and pathetic attempt to catch Matteo’s eye until the music
suddenly stopped. It was time for exchanging gifts.
Carlotta, with the other girls at her
heels, dragged Marika toward the large Christmas tree standing in the corner of
the room, decorated with colored balls and countless gold and bronze ribbons
and bows, while Dario sidled up to his friend, chuckling, “Way to go, Matt!”
“What are you talking about?” he said,
trying to act indifferent, even though his face gave him away.
“Better watch your back!” Dario whispered,
giving him a hard time. “I’ve got my eyes on you...” he said, pointing two
fingers in Matteo’s direction.
The two friends laughed it off while
everyone else around them dove into the sea of presents before them. Marika,
for example, started off with a burlap bag that Livia had left before her
departure for the mountains and which contained a pair of felt slippers, most
likely a recycled gift from last year; Sandra, in accordance with her cautious
outlook on the world, gave her a pair of heavy, warm brown gloves; while
Lucrezia surprised her with a lingerie set in stretch tulle, the only problem being
that it was one size too small, hopefully not by design; and then Carlotta’s
gift, the one she had been most anxious for. The curiosity was killing her,
and she ripped the packaging and poetry to shreds until she had unearthed a
pair of super-stylish purple-colored headphones, emblazoned with the logo of
that famous brand headquartered in California. “ Carlotta, they’re the
greatest! ” she exclaimed, her eyes wide from surprise and her voice
sounding high-pitched and unlike herself. “Thank you.”
“Thank you!” her cousin was saying at the
same time, beside herself with excitement over Marika’s gift, a
insecurities.”
Marika nervously chewed her lower lip,
reflecting on Carlotta’s words. Her honesty was enough to send her into
emotional upheaval.
After a round of coffee – some topped with
whipped cream, others spiked with whiskey – the party was taken over by music
and low lighting. Sandra and Giacomo, to everyone’s surprise, were the first
to hit the dance floor, though their swaying, sleepwalker moves were hardly
inspiring.
“Thank God the weed stayed put in
her marshlands tonight,” Carlotta pronounced, walking toward the Christmas tree
that was standing guard over the presents. “After the way I stuffed myself
tonight, I couldn’t have taken even a drop of her.” Livia, Marika’s unwelcome
classmate, had been baptized Livia the weed because you couldn’t get rid
of her, and was pleasantly absent this evening because of a ski vacation with
her parents in the chic resort town of Cortina.
With the lights down low, the atmosphere
in the basement changed, becoming a cocktail of music, sensuality, and fun:
there was an undercurrent of transgression in the air, driven by the sounds of
an Oriental koto that fused with the scratchy vinyl of techno-house. The girls
danced carefree in the middle of the room, where they were made more alluring
and mysterious by the music, which loosened their cultural inhibitions and
created a world of unspoken fantasies. The guys watched from the walls.
As if she was magnetic, Matteo’s eyes
locked onto Marika, and his body followed straight after, slicing through the
cordon of friends in order to be next to her. Moving to the rhythm, he stared
into her eyes, begging her silently not to move away from him, while she,
enchanted by the fragrance of the ocean in his cologne, let herself be
commanded by his wishes in this silly, serious private game.
Many of their friends watched them
surreptitiously – some out of curiosity, others out of dismay – but neither of
them noticed. No one else in the world existed.
Lucrezia, livid over finding herself
relegated to the sidelines, was contorting and grinding her body like a
stripper in a vain and pathetic attempt to catch Matteo’s eye until the music
suddenly stopped. It was time for exchanging gifts.
Carlotta, with the other girls at her
heels, dragged Marika toward the large Christmas tree standing in the corner of
the room, decorated with colored balls and countless gold and bronze ribbons
and bows, while Dario sidled up to his friend, chuckling, “Way to go, Matt!”
“What are you talking about?” he said,
trying to act indifferent, even though his face gave him away.
“Better watch your back!” Dario whispered,
giving him a hard time. “I’ve got my eyes on you...” he said, pointing two
fingers in Matteo’s direction.
The two friends laughed it off while
everyone else around them dove into the sea of presents before them. Marika,
for example, started off with a burlap bag that Livia had left before her
departure for the mountains and which contained a pair of felt slippers, most
likely a recycled gift from last year; Sandra, in accordance with her cautious
outlook on the world, gave her a pair of heavy, warm brown gloves; while
Lucrezia surprised her with a lingerie set in stretch tulle, the only problem being
that it was one size too small, hopefully not by design; and then Carlotta’s
gift, the one she had been most anxious for. The curiosity was killing her,
and she ripped the packaging and poetry to shreds until she had unearthed a
pair of super-stylish purple-colored headphones, emblazoned with the logo of
that famous brand headquartered in California. “ Carlotta, they’re the
greatest! ” she exclaimed, her eyes wide from surprise and her voice
sounding high-pitched and unlike herself. “Thank you.”
“Thank you!” her cousin was saying at the
same time, beside herself with excitement over Marika’s gift, a
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