Meet Me at the Spanish Steps
Meet me at the Spanish Steps, the text said. It also specified a day and time. The following day, at 1pm.
A few seconds later, my phone bleeped again.
I’ll text you in the morning and let you know what I’m wearing. Will you do the same?
I replied in the affirmative. Although I knew what he looked like, us knowing what each other was wearing would help us to find each other in the no-doubt huge crowds surrounding the famous tourist attraction. I was glad, because there was no way I wanted to miss out on meeting up with him. My sanity—and libido—were riding on it.
Since I’d been working at the campsite on the outskirts of Rome, I’d been doing my best to learn Italian, and was improving rapidly. But it would be some time before I progressed to learning the wo
