I sat down at the foot of the fountain looking up at the statues of a topless nymph and a curly-haired satyr.

"Haven’t you had enough sleep?" Alana asks, winking at me.

My ears and cheeks instantly turn crimson, making me rather gaze again at the nymph’s stone nipples, than at smooth and soft skin of Alana's beautiful countenance.

"You should have eaten more at breakfast," the woman's voice carries a slight reproach mixed with genuine concern, "one cup of coffee and a croissant is not enough for a full breakfast."

I don't answer anything. I can't tell her that I was so nervous in her presence that I could not even swallow a bite: nice toasts, scrambled eggs, crispy bacon slices, round salami, holey cheese and a bunch of little plastic packaging with strawberry jam remained intact, and all because I could not chew in front of her, could not even swallow a piece. Strong excitement and the memories of our last night together even made me sick a little.

I didn't go to take a shower with her, instead I was nervously sitting on the sun-beaten bleached balcony, turning, and tumbling, and toying with a cheap, hotel ashtray. It seemed to me that only this way I might preserve my dignity, but in fact, I just chickened out.

She puts her hand on my shoulder, "Have you rested enough? Are you sure that you don't need more time? I found a patch for your poor little heel." Alana hands me an expensive pack of patches.

"Thank you…"

I want to take it, but the dark-haired beauty removes her hand, "I’d better do it; you are totally tired, although, we have not walked far enough."

"Excuse me?! You have just been running for several blocks as if a maniac with an electric saw were chasing us all the time!" I’m uselessly trying to justify my physical weakness, but I flinch and start trembling when she squats in front of me and takes off one of my torturous sandals. Loveable memories of the night come back, and it feels like we are alone on the entire iridescently radiant coast: just me and her black, shiny eyes.