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Elio leaned back into his reading chair in their small Camden apartment, fanning himself like a Lady In Waiting in Versailles palace. ‘I used to laugh when Brits complained when the thermometer hit thirty degrees, especially with the heat we used to get with some Italian summers but this...I’m literally melting.’
Oliver, who had lived in London for just over a year before Elio had joined him, had experienced the summer previously so wore at least some armour. Although it didn’t stop the sweat dripping down his throat and into his chest hair. ‘I told you so.’ He replied childishly. ‘And you thought you’d need sweaters and long sleeve t-shirts.’
‘In my defence-‘ Elio began after downing a pint of water ‘-England is normally grey and overcast even if it is summer.’
Oliver laughed. ‘That’s such a misnomer. Like all the crap about there being no decent food here.’
Elio sat bolt upright and said excitedly. ‘That was the best Cacio e pepe I have ever eaten.’ Gesticulating with his hands as only a true Italian could.
‘And how about Sunday roasts?’ Oliver stated, placing his hand on his stomach which growled its own response.
‘Un-believe-able. That belly pork was to die for. Oh and the Yorkshire pudding with that rich gravy? We’ve got to go back there soon.’
Oliver smiled. ‘Maybe not today, eh.’
‘God no. Maybe some cold chicken and salad with that dressing we picked up at Waitrose. Love that shop.’
‘That’s because you have expensive tastes. I swear we could have got the same thing in Aldi.’
Elio shook his head. ‘But why would we change something that’s not broken?... I feel fucking broken in this heat. It’s so…so…’
‘Raw, is the word you’re looking for.’ Oliver replied as he took some ice cubes out of his orange drink and rubbed them on his stomach.
Elio lifted up his sunglasses. ‘That’s exactly it, raw.’
‘Even with the humidity.’
‘I feel like every single inch of my skin is sweating.’
Oliver sighed. ‘The lack of air con doesn’t help.’
Elio shrugged. ‘We don’t have air con in the villa but it still doesn’t feel like this.’
‘But you do have an ice cold pool we can fall in to whenever we want.’
Elio returned the sigh. ‘That’s true. Can we just get on a plane and go home?’ he asked with a tinge of sorrow in his voice.
‘Soon, baby, soon.’ Oliver replied grinning inwardly, fully knowing that in his bedside draw were two surprise tickets to Italy with their names on them.