The Demi Gods - What You Want and What You Need

    With a sigh, Emily flopped onto the tiny bed in her tiny room in the tiny apartment she shared with two other girls. Wiggling her phone out of her pocket, she checked the time. Damn. It was already three a.m. and her first class was at nine. She didn’t even have the energy to go brush her teeth. Carly would just complain about the noisy plumbing anyway. She wriggled out of her clothes where she sat, pulled the thin blanket over her and was asleep before her head hit the pillow.     After grabbing a cornetto and café from the bar downstairs, she caught a bus towards the Vatican. Squashed between sweaty tourists, slick with suntan lotion, she managed to eat her cornetto. Brushing off the flakes of pastry, she pushed her way off the bus and made it to the English school with five minutes to spare.     Her first student had come on so well since she took over her lessons. She was ready for her exam weeks earlier than expected. All her students were doing great, yet the boss still paid her peanuts. It was time to ask again, for a raise. Six euros an hour, with back to back classes amounted to slavery.     By the time her six hours of teaching was over, she was ravenous and bursting for the loo. She stomped to the bathroom before grabbing her bag and heading to her final class of the day. It was her favourite class, deep within the Vatican museum. It was the only reason she hadn’t told her boss to stuff his teaching job. Flashing her pass at the guard, she bypassed the massive queue snaking round the Vatican walls and caught the tiny elevator that would take her upstairs. The guard manning the elevator was in her Thursday A level class.     “Good afternoon Emeelay, ‘ow are you?” His thick accent made him her smile as he pushed the button to go up.     “Good afternoon. I’m good, How are you? Did you have a good weekend?” She enunciated clearly.     “I am so so. Weekend was good.”     There was no time to elaborate further, the door slid open and with a wave, she squeezed out past two tourists in wheelchairs waiting to leave. Dodging past the tourists crowding the gift shop at the top of Michelangelo’s steps, she made her way to the statue room. This amazing room was off limits and she always felt rather smug when she unclipped the red rope with a wave to the guard.      Instead of the direct path to the back of the room where there was a secret door to the staff area, she zigzagged round the statues, sarcophagus’s and mosaics, checking her favourites. She let herself into the classroom where for the next hour, she would teach a lovely group of art restorers.       She crushed her empty water bottle and threw it in the bin. Ignoring the guys hawking tickets and tours outside the Vatican, she thought if she managed to catch a bus back to Trastevere now, she could nap for an hour or two before her shift at the restaurant.     Emily took her usual side street to the bus stop, where someone was renovating what used to be a bar. Not surprised it went out of business, the prices were crazy even for such a tourist hotspot and she bet the food had been awful. Slowing down, she glanced in just to be nosey. Her breath caught.     It was only May, yet his skin was a beautiful golden colour, accentuated by his tight white t-shirt. His mobile wedged between shoulder and ear, he shouted and gestured in the typical Italian fashion. He seemed to have forgotten about the paint brush in his hand and was flicking paint everywhere. Their eyes met as she froze in the doorway. Blushing, she fled down the street.       Her shift passed in a blur. Some regulars and the revolving tourists, at least the Americans always tipped well. Since it was a Monday, it was quieter and she got to go home early. Trastevere still buzzed regardless of the day, she was lucky to be living there even if rent did cost a ridiculous amount of euros and she had to work like a dog to survive.     Wandering the narrow cobbled streets, she allowed herself to think about the Painter. He kept invading her thoughts since she had been so stupid as to get caught staring. He was probably used to it, however it was rare to see someone that … beautiful. There was no other word for it.     Chiselled cheekbones and arms that could have been carved from marble, were still in her thoughts as she climbed the five flights of stairs and let herself in. Carly was curled up on the sofa with her text books and the repetitive creaking from Sarah’s room indicated that she was in there with Raffaele.        “Hey,” Emily nodded towards the closed door. “How long have they been at it this time?”     Carly removed her earphones, “Oh a good three hours. I managed to complete my paper for art history class and start the required reading in that time.”     “A true Italian stallion.” Emily laughed.     “I feel like I haven’t seen you in days, Emily.” Moving her books, she patted the seat next to her. “You work too hard.”     “I know it. Mum called yesterday, begging me to come home again. Gave the usual speech. Get a real job. Come work in the salon. No one is an archaeologist anymore blah blah. But how can I give up living in Rome?”     “She probably just misses you and is still hurting from what your dad did. But I get you don’t want to leave. After classes finish, I plan to stay too. Everything is so beautiful here.”     Emily shrugged. “Even the sweaty tourists and garbage and rats?”     Carly wrinkled her nose in disgust, “You know what I mean.”     “But speaking of beautiful, I saw an absolute gorgeous guy today and he caught me staring like a cupid had struck me silly.”     “Local?”     “Yes. Shame I have another class at the Vatican tomorrow and have to pass the place he was decorating again.”     Carly poked her with a perfectly pedicured foot, “Get his number?”     “He was way out of my league. But doesn’t mean I can’t have another look.”     “You don’t give yourself enough credit. How many hearts have you broken since you’ve been here?”     “It was the other way around, I think you’ll remember.”     Carly growled in sympathy, “Antonio was a real a-hole.”     “But at least we all learned a lesson. Guys in Rome are players and should be avoided unless you are looking just for fun and a fuck.”      “Like Sarah.” Carly pointed towards the closed door. Thankfully the creaking had stopped.     Emily shook her head, “If he stays over again, he needs to start paying rent. Speaking of which…” She pulled out a handful of crumpled notes and change. Counting it and after some mental arithmetic, her face fell. “Carly…I'm still short two hundred?”     “Don’t worry, I’ll lend it to you. Pay me back when you can.”     “Thanks. Again. Maybe I should move out, find somewhere cheaper.”     “Don’t even think about it.”     Sarah’s door opened and she came out with Raffa. How they managed to walk to the front door and still be glued to the others face, Emily had no idea. “I’ll miss you babe.”     “I’ll miss you more.” Raffa proceeded to eat her face, or at least that’s what it looked like, complete with slurping sounds.     Carly pretended to vomit but stood up to go to bed. Emily followed suit. She was destroyed and she didn’t need to see the goodbye ritual of her madly in lust flatmate.