The Chronicles of City Lights and Modern Love

"Watch it!" I shouted at a taxi driver for what felt like the fiftieth time that day.

"You’re not from around here, are you?" a male voice said from behind me.

"Is it that obvious?" I asked, turning around to look into the sparkling navy blue eyes of a boy not much older than myself. He was right of course; my family and I had moved to Manhattan’s Upper East just over a month ago.

"Ah, that’s a nice Australian accent you’ve got there," he replied with a smile. "I've seen you a few times today. I've watched you almost get hit by at least ten taxis, you must have luck on your side."

I thought back over the day. You'd think almost being carted away by a big, yellow taxi blaring its horn would be enough to warn me away from stepping onto the road without watching, but then again, I had always been a little stubborn.

"I guess so," I replied cautiously.

"What’s your name?" he asked with a dazzling smile, fixing me with an intense gaze.

Here we go, I thought to myself. It all began the same. A confident guy like this would come up, we’d talk, we’d go on a date and then he’d turn out to be a total sleaze or, like in some of more extreme cases, a criminal. This might sound cynical, seeing as I had only just met him, but experience had told me to trust my first impression; my gut instinct.

"Alessandra," I replied confidently, "…and you are?"

"Carmine," he answered smoothly, "now tell me, are you part Italian? Because you sure look it; only an Italian could have eyes as amazing as yours."

I smirked and raised an eyebrow "Yes, I am," I replied, "and you are too I’m guessing...?"

I found this wherever I went. If an Italian guy spots an Italian girl outside of Italy, they just can’t resist pulling out their best pick-up lines. What they didn’t realise was that they didn’t work any better anywhere else than they did in Italy.

"That I am Bella."

It wasn't that he was bad looking guy, because he wasn't be any means. He was tall, standing at around 6'2", and he was of a very solid, strong looking build, accentuated by the black jeans and v-neck t-shirt he was sporting, and he had chocolate coloured hair, long enough to be swept casually to the side, and those eyes...

"So tell me Casanova," I said coolly, as my eyes travelled from his eyes to the thick gold chain hanging around his neck and the expensive gold watch on his thick wrist, "do you pull out your best lines on every girl you come across, or is it because I’m part Italian like you?"

Something told me that any young man wearing that much gold jewellery was probably bad news in some respect.

He smirked, "The girls here are decent enough, but Australia and Italy are a stunning combination."

"Ok!” I said abruptly, shaking my head. “Well, it was nice meeting you Carmine, but I need to get back to my apartment."

"Can I call you some time? What’s your number?" he asked swiftly, realising that perhaps he hadn’t scored.

"It’s in the phonebook," I replied.

"I don’t know your surname," he said with an amused smile.

"That’s in there too," I told him.

He just stood there for a second, a slightly taken aback expression on his face. Judging by his confidence and the smooth delivery of his pick-up lines, Carmine was practised in the art and he wasn’t used to getting turned down. Hopefully I’d done him some good.

“You’re really not interested at all?” he asked, slightly deflated.

I shook my head. “No. Sorry.”

"Am I going to have to resort to following you home?"

Now it was my turn to raise an eyebrow. “I don’t think that’ll be necessary! I mean, you could try but...”

"What, you don't think I could?", he asked, smiling skeptically.

"I’m pretty much a ninja," I replied.

"We’ll see, Hattori Hanzō."

"Goodbye Carmine," I said as I turned to leave

"Ciao Bella."

I rolled my eyes but a smile had crept onto my face. I had had guys try the charming act on me before, but this Carmine, he really had a willful manner that left me feeling as though it was in some way wrong of me to say no to him. I walked away, but I could tell he was following me so, deciding to give him the slip, I walked swiftly but smoothly towards the Starbucks down the street. Just as I got to the shop, I slipped behind a large man walking out the door. I must have appeared to have entered the coffee shop because Carmine walked past without even glancing up. I then proceeded to walk back to the apartment, my heels clicking on the pavement and my mind thinking over the encounter.