This was request from tumblr. I'm making it an eight part series.

Enjoy! 

Fiorella beat the sunrise as she was already out of bed. She draped on the summerdress she wore yesterday, picturing her nonna's taunting voice, "Ladies never wear the same attire twice Fiorella. It's important that you learn this if you wish to find a man to marry someday."

To that Fiorella would say, "Nonna, does a man wish to marry a dress or the woman wearing the dress?"

"Don't be silly Rella, a man is marrying the woman wearing the dress."

"That decides it then. I will marry a man wearing nothing but my birthday suit. That way I'll be sure he's marrying me and only me."

Her grandmother would then shush her out of the house, muttering "That girl. Why can't she be more like her sisters?"

Fiorella tipped her way down the stairs in an attempt not to wake her family. Her black labrador, Pluto, raised his head at the sight of her.

"It's time, Pluto." She whispered.

He rose to his paws, tail swiping in the air with his excitement. The two left the house, Fiorella on her bike with Pluto running alongside it.

Fiorella had always loved the thrill of diving into the crystal-clear waters of the Mediterranean Sea. Growing up in a tiny village on the west coast of Sardinia, she had spent countless hours exploring the underwater world, searching for hidden treasures and discovering the secrets of the sea.

On this sparkling morning, as the sun began to rise, Fiorella ventured into the depths once again, her heart filled with the excitement of what she might find. As she weaved through the swaying seagrass and the playful fish, she spotted a small boat floating above her. Curiosity piqued, Fiorella swam closer, her dark curls trailing behind her like ribbons in the water. She peeked above the surface and saw a man sitting in the boat. He appeared to be gazing intently at the horizon, lost in his own thoughts. Fiorella surfaced gently, trying not to startle the man. She suspected him to be a tourist, drawn to the beauty of her village's coast. But as she swam closer and looked upon his striking features, she knew he was no ordinary visitor. His hazel eyes sparkled with hidden stories, and a subtle smile played on his lips. He possessed an air of mystery that fascinated her.

Without thinking twice, Fiorella impulsively decided to make him feel welcome, embracing the Sardinian hospitality that ran in her blood. She emerged from the water onto the docks, her petite frame dripping water onto the aging wood.

The man turned his gaze towards her, startled by her sudden appearance.

"Buongiorno." She smiled.

His eyes traveled from her head to her toes, stopping to stare at her dripping curls. "Can I help you?"

"It's a lovely morning, no?" The man spoke to her in English. However Fiorella didn't mind. She liked speaking English with tourist, it was the best way to learn. "And, you're suppose to say Buongiorno."

"Huh?" The man looked puzzled.

"It means good morning." She said, taking a look around as she stood on the docks. It was a nice boat, not suitable for fishing, but still nice.

"I know what it means." The man muttered, he looked tired, perhaps not an early riser like her.

"So why didn't you say it?"

He raised his brow, startled by how frank she was. Her parents hated when she did that, teasing the tourist, but it's what all the locals did.

"Perhaps we should try again? Buongiorno, I'm Fiorella, who are you?"

The man watched her from where he sat on his boat, unsure if she was teasing him again.

She chuckled "Go on, it's your turn."

He shook his head. "Buongiorna, I'm Ruben."

"Last name?"

He frowned. "You didn't tell me yours."

"I'll let you know mine after you tell me yours."

He rested his hands on his hips. "Sanchez, Ruben Sanchez."

"Nice to meat you Ruben Sanchez, these are for you." Fiorella presented the man with her bountiful catch of clams, fresh from the depths of the sea. "Here," she said, tossing him the small fishing net.

He caught it with one hand.

"Welcome to Sardinia." She smiled.

Ruben's surprised expression transformed into a wide grin as he accepted Fiorella's gift. "Thanks."

"I'm Fiorella," she said, her voice filled with excitement, "Fiorella Costa, and this is my dog, Pluto."

The dog barked his welcome.

"My family herds sheep on a farm bellow the village." She pointed to the green hills behind them. "If you're ever on your way, make sure to visit my uncles restaurant on the same road. He makes the best gnocchi, no matter what the Italians say."

Ruben frowned. "Aren't people from Sardinia considered to be Italians?"

He pronounced it like the tourists usually did, heavy on the "I" instead of soft on the "D".

"We are, but I'm also Tunisian, so my family is special."

He nodded. "Thanks for the tip, I'll make sure to check it out."

"Or you could just cook the clams I gave you and call it a day. Come now Pluto!"

She turned her back on the man, not bothering to see his puzzled reaction. She was like that, Fiorella, a horrible tease.

"There she goes again." Her grandmother sighed as Fiorella parked her bike down the road to her house. It was a beautiful yellow house, surronded by acheres of green land scattered with sheep. Fiorella's grandmother (nonna) was seen picking fresh tomates from their garden alongside Fiorella's four year old brother Dino.

"Wet from head to toe. Aren't you getting tired of running down to the docks, diving for treasure?"

"Nope." Fiorella smiled. She kicked of her sandals and stepped into the garden to help with the tomatoes.

"If I hear that you're bothering those tourists again..."

"I'm not, nonna."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

"Good, because you know what your father thinks of them."

Fiorella's father believed that the locals should leave the tourists alone, let them explore our beaches and purchaise our goods, however, that is where we should draw the line. He thinks that never should we invite the tourist to our properties and let them bother us in our homes.

"It's funny coming from him, no?" Fiorella said, helping her brother top his basket with tomatoes. "If it wasn't for nonno... " Fiorella's grandfather on her dad's side, "...being welcomed by a Sardinian family, Dino and I would never be considered local Sardinia's. We'd be Tunisians, wouldn't we, nonna?"

"Stop it with your foolishness child. There is no way for us to know what could have been if your grandfather hadn't married your grandmother. Just be glad that you are considered a Sardinian. We are very proud people you know."

"But our nonno is Tunisian, doesn't that make Dino and I at least a third or a quarter Tunisian?"

"No, now basta."

Nonna grabbed the basket of tomatoes and began marching towards the house. Fiorella lifted her little brother into her arms and did the same.

"We have alot to do this week, with your sister's wedding and all. I expect you to be on your best behavior, Fiorella, meaning no running off to the docks. Your sister needs you here, helping with the wedding."

"But Nonna..."

"No buts. Did I make myself clear?"

Fiorella rolled her eyes, muttering "All clear."

She was curious as for how long she'd manage to stay away. The docks and the sea was her sanctuary. It's where the Mediterranean sea welcomed the land beyond Sardinia and where Fiorella met the most handsome man she had ever seen.

How could she stay away?

*Note from author: Yes, Ruben did give Fiorella a fake last name. Find out why in these upcoming chapters!

Ciao! 😜