There was one saving grace; well, two, actually. And they were in the form of two besties—and part-time bikini-clad Meter Maids—Harper and Kylie. Lovely girls, in large part because they didn’t want to harm me in any way. They were the kind of girls you could giggle with about boys and share hairspray and fashion advice. I could probably learn a thing or two from these effervescent eighteen-year-olds, who were not related and yet looked almost identical with their straightened bleach-blonde hair, a shade-too-dark spray tans, and manufactured, impossibly white teeth. They were the epitome of youth, and enjoying their own gap year, after which, bless their hearts, they actually believed they would go back to uni. That’s what we all say; it was the very thing I had proclaimed three years ago and counting. Looking in the mirror, I felt like a librarian next to them; as I stood between them, applying foundation to take the red tinge out of my skin, they looked like matching Barbie bookends. Coming up to my shoulders, we were going to look ridiculous out on the dance floor together; I only hoped they would be wearing perilously high heels, otherwise I would have to seek refuge in the shadow of Nate the Giant. I really didn’t want to be hanging out and drinking shots with him, though Harper was only too happy to do that for me.

‘Nate is so fucking hot,’ she said, pumping the crusty remnants of her mascara tube.

‘Noooo, I’m more of a Team Johnny kind of girl. I can’t believe he hooked up with Jodie last night,’ pouted Kylie.

I tried not to falter with my foundation at the mentioning of her name. ‘They aren’t really a thing, are they, though? I mean, they’re not exclusive or anything, right?’

I could only hope that was the case, otherwise I had witnessed certain infidelity; no wonder Jodie wanted me dead.

‘Well, I think Johnny is pretty cruisy, but seriously, don’t even look at Johnny sideways, Jodie is very territorial.’ Harper looked at me in the reflection of the mirror; her belated words of wisdom bonding me to her. At least someone was on my side.

‘It’s just so bloody unfair. How am I ever going to make my moves on Johnny if she’s there giving me daggers?’ complained Kylie. The scene was reminiscent of getting ready for a school social. We were all talking about who we wanted to ‘get with’, and the residential mean girl who ruined our lives. Except we were wedged in a dank, grimy bathroom with cracked, mouldy tiles and no natural light, which made make-up application rather difficult.

‘So, is Marcello coming out tonight?’ Harper bumped me playfully with her hip, causing me to draw a clumsy, jagged kink in my winged eyeliner. My almost-lie about Marcello and I had really landed me in it; clearly everyone wanted to know about Marcello.

‘Umm, I don’t think so, he isn’t really linked to the tour in any way,’ I said, still troubled by not knowing exactly how he fitted in. It was my goal to find out exactly who Marcello was; maybe tonight I would become Maria’s wingwoman. I rubbed away the streak of black, not keen for the Cleopatra look. Reapplying my eye make-up more carefully, I began to get excited about our night on the town. According to the mad ramblings of the boys, complimentary T-shirts were provided because they booked online, as well as a complimentary welcoming shot and something called the ‘Power Hour’ with as many wines, beers and mixed drinks as you wanted, followed by drinking games and traditional pizza. It sounded messy. It sounded, dare I say it, amazing.

I tried to think back to the last time I had been out pub-crawling. It was a mortifyingly long time. Embarking on a break from my studies, I hadn’t really expected to be lonely. I mean, it’s not like I’d moved to the other side of the world. My friends moved away to go to uni; they came back most weekends in the beginning, but soon it became less, and then they got new friends, new social agendas and stopped coming home at all. I had tried to head to the city on weekends, to meet my old mates on their new turf, but it had always felt awkward, like I didn’t belong in their world anymore. As time went on, it kind of felt like I didn’t really belong anywhere. I had, in a way, become institutionalised by my own making.

Standing in front of the murky mirror in a Roman hostel, I had an epiphany. It was time to break out of my self-made shell. What was the saying? When in Rome, do as the Romans do. I wasn’t entirely sure what that meant for me tonight, but it felt really freeing. For all the pitfalls and less-than-ideal living arrangements, in the space of twenty-four hours I had never felt so liberated, which I knew had at least a little to do with a particular someone I’d spent my day with. I tried not to think too much about that as I flicked my thick curly hair over my shoulders and examined myself one last time before declaring, ‘Alright, let’s do this!’

Maria was wedged in a corner booth, being peer-group pressured into taking a shot, which she did like a trooper. I stood awkwardly to the side with a foul-tasting alcoholic beverage that I had been nursing for longer than I cared to admit. I wanted to stay semi-coherent; I had planned to corner Maria and subtly question her about Marcello, but I really struggled to get near her, which was probably just as well because I was also struggling with how to broach the subject without seeming like a stalker. There was also another barrier: the music in the bar was so painfully loud—clearly not the ideal place to have a conversation, as I came to learn first-hand when a voice screamed in my ear: ‘Here, you’ll like this one.’

I turned to see Johnny next to me, passing me a fresh drink that looked clean, cold and crisp next to my horrendous, now-warm drink that looked like a watered-down sunrise.

‘Oh, thanks. What is it?’ I asked, taking a tentative sip and liking what I sampled.

‘Well, let’s just say it ain’t no mocktail,’ he said, smiling broadly. I laughed, allowing myself to get lost in that smile until a memory of fierce eyes slapped me into reality. I glanced around, swearing that Jodie was lurking in the shadows, watching on.

Before I could distance myself, Johnny took the drink from my hand and placed it on our table, then slid his hand into mine. I froze. ‘Come on—I love this song,’ he said, canting his head and pulling me towards the dance floor.

‘Oh no, Johnny, I really don’t want to …’

But there was no escaping his pull—he was far stronger than me. Fight as I might, with an awkward twirl onto the dance floor we were soon lost in the crush of flailing bodies, battering around like a ball in a pinball machine while Phoenix’s ‘Rome’ belted out. I could only hope that we were hidden from prying eyes as Johnny was dancing up close next to me, holding my hand. And maybe it was the new taste of my drink, or the hidden crush of the dancing crowd and the beat of the music, but I finally lost myself. I forgot about prying eyes and consequences; I was having the best time, until I made the mistake of looking at the heated stare of Johnny. His arms had somehow encircled my waist, and I felt a new panic as a small, sexy smile tugged at the side of his mouth, like a question being posed, his face so close to mine. I suddenly felt hot, like I couldn’t breathe. Jodie’s eyes, Kylie’s pout, Nate’s high five and Maria’s curved brow flashed in my mind. I looked up into Johnny’s blue eyes—and don’t get me wrong, they were a really beautiful blue—attached to an equally nice face, a hard, built body that I could feel under my hands that rested on his biceps and—holy shit, what was that pressed against my hip?

Ordinarily this all wouldn’t have been so shocking; I mean, I wasn’t a prude and Johnny was gorgeous, but what unsettled me more than his unexpected erection was the fact that his eyes weren’t the ones I wanted to look into. They weren’t the very vivid brown eyes I wanted to get lost in; his smile wasn’t home to two dimples that made me want to stare at any given chance in case they emerged. And regardless of how fast my heart was beating and how I bit my lip at the tempting notion of giving in to Johnny, I took the only exit I could think of, sliding my hands up to his shoulders and yelling into his ear, ‘I think I am going to be sick.’

Here’s a tip for travellers worthy of any Lonely Planet guide: if you need to quickly exit a situation or avoid a certain event real fast, just utter those magical words. Aside from the rather comical wide-eyed look of horror you will receive, you will have your way out. Johnny led out of the crowd, ducking and weaving, pushing and shouting, carving a fast retreat to the exit and blasting into the cool, Italian night air. Though I didn’t really feel sick, the blissful fresh air was a welcome reprieve from the stuffy, loud interior of the bar. Actually, I felt fine, elated even, thinking that, hey, I hadn’t lost my charm, I still had it. I smiled and breathed in the night air deeply.

‘Johnny, you are my knight in shining armour,’ I called out, spinning, until an image caused me to skid to a halt. Johnny walked into the back of me and would have knocked me over if he hadn’t grabbed my hips and drawn me back against him.

‘Whoa, watch ya lookin’ at …’ Johnny paused as my widened eyes locked onto a pair of very familiar brown eyes. My heart stopped, but not for the unexpected joy of bumping into Marcello out the back of a club in the heart of Rome; no, not at all. My heart stopped because my eyes broke from Marcello to the figure standing next to him, the vision of my nightmares.

Jodie.