Rehaana - part 8 - Buon giorno Principessa

Rehaana - the beginning

Rehaana - part 2 - the twilight

Rehaana - part 3 - the phone call

Rehaana - part 4 - the first period

Rehaana - part 5 - the dreamer waits

Rehaana - part 6 - the homecoming

Rehaana - part 7 - Popcorn Confessions

"I hope you remember your promise"

"Errr?"

"Of being a gentleman"

"Oh that, any other obvious statements you'd like to make" taking a light offence at her remark

"Hopefully not, just as long as you remember this one" She said with a smile, she knew her smile would take away any of the

hundred smart assy remarks he could come up with. She was a girl and she knew her powers.

It was a cosy room, a big cozy room, with its own LCD TV...gosh the rich had it nice he thought. They said their good nights.
Of course it would be too much to assume either of them slept, funnily though out of the ten movies playing on tv both ended

up watching 'about a boy', albeit in their own rooms.

Half an hour into the movie, he got an sms, "You awake? am watching this movie, 'About a Boy' on HBO"

"So am I, man now if only my pop had written a jingle"

"Imagine, getting up when you feel like, doing what you feel like, every day would be a new day"

"Yeah, though you know right now what I wish for"

"What?"

"Roasted Peanuts"

"Hmm...ok then say 'fairy princess, grant me a wish, fix me a snack, let there be roasted peanuts"

He smiled

"Buon giorno, Principessa! make my wish come true...let me have..." his fingers paused, he almost wrote something, "roasted

peanuts"

"The right side closet is a mini bar with a snack shelf, help yourself"

He could see her smile as she would have texted that message

they texted much into the night, lord only know who fell asleep first, but both had half written texts on their cells when

their lights went out.

His alarm went off at 5:30, Sunday. While he went for a jog every day of the week, Sunday's were different. On Sunday's there

were no deadlines. Sunday the jog was was more leasurly, he could soak in life and sunshine.

He passed by her bedroom. He slowed down and felt the door....smiled. He made his way to the kitchen, made her some

coffee...black. He left it at the newspaper table outside her door, covered in a tea-cozy.

He jogged easy that day, thinking about the previous night and smiling. The cup was still there when he came back...the door

was still closed. He took the cup back, emptied it into the sink, washed the cup and kept it back.

She woke up at 11, a lazy Sunday morning. She took the morning paper and sat down on the dining table. She smelt something

that made her realize that she was hungry, really hungry. It was something roasting, it was something rich, it was something

sweet.

He came out, tousled sweaty hair, red face, shorts, tee and apron. He had a plate in his hand. He set it in front of her.

Toast with thin layer of fresh cream, thinly sliced strawberry and strawberry crush.

She smiled, it was a wondeful Sunday morning.