Forbidden fruit

May 2022, Turin, Italy. What exactly are going on in your Soul, when you, a dude from a Ukrainian provincial town, are sent to represent interests of your own country at the main international European song contest called «Eurovision?» I think it’s delight. And also… Euphoria. Joy.  And other very pleasant feelings, of course. And at the same time — you really feel the huge fear. A desperate fear. It consumes everything in its way. You feel the fear of complete failure. Fear of letting your team down. Fear of not living up to expectations of everybody. But right now I absolutely wasn’t thinking about any kind of fear. Just imagine!… I am a representative of my own country on the European song contest! I represent Ukraine at the Eurovision 2022. This is just incredible… I was so lost in my own thoughts, smoking one cigarette after another, that I almost fell down from the windowsill on which I was currently sitting: someone's heavy hand suddenly fell on my shoulder… It was Igor Didenchuk. Just my college. — Oh my God. Please, be careful next time, otherwise, I can drag you in from fright... —warned I quite sincerely. — Oh, stop it, come on, — Igor Didenchuk laughed. — What are you constantly thinking about?… — About the frailty of our world… —  I admitted sadly, taking a deep puff. — I never ever have seen you being so melancholic… — Never mind. I’m fine, just I’m tired a little bit after the rehearsal… Igor squinted and then asked me for a cigarette. I helped a friend of mine to light a cigarette. — The Spanish representative is just awesome… I wouldn’t mind to spend a great night with her… I grinned and threw another cigarette butt out of the window. — And I'm not up to any woman right now… — You simply haven’t met the really pretty one yet and there are a lot of them here, by the way… — Igor smiled in a very tricky way. I pursed my lips: this habit, acquired in early childhood, always showed that I was dissatisfied with something. However, I didn’t have the purpose to spoil the relationship with one of my best friends. —  I’ve also noticed the Spanish representative, she is just amazing. But… It is not my type of girls at all. I wouldn’t mind to spend several nights with her too, but no more than that, — I smiled. — And do you really need a serious relationship? To my mind, some thing at this competition will be very useful personally for you. Just look, how sad you really are right now. — Fuck off, Igor, I'm fine… — Okay, it’s all of your business. I just gave you some piece of advice being your best friend, — Igor grinned again and left me completely alone in my room. Drowning in my own sort of melancholy, I took out a cigarette again. The night was gradually coming into its own: now Turin was shrouded in twilight. Maybe Igor is completely right, and I really just need to spend at least a night with someone here?.. At least with the same Spanish representative. She's really pretty as I had noticed. Thus, thinking about something of my own, I did not notice the very deep night was coming…                              *** I woke up because my own pillow flew into my face. A moment later, the rest of our music band together came into my room. — Igor, are you really mad or what?!.. — now I was really furious, sitting on the bed and rubbing my sleepy eyes. — You'll sleep through the entire press conference,— he muttered discontentedly. A press conference? Today?... Holly shit… I groaned.  — I already hate this very day with all my heart, — I said.  But the members of my band just laughed. Okay. Nice. Oleg, pull yourself together. Please. You will definitely survive this day. Believe me.  Morning rituals. Shower. A cup of hot strong coffee… And I really felt the love to the process of life again. After a hasty breakfast, I was the first to leave my friends. Before the press conference, I need to rest at least the remaining hour before it. There was a push. The scalding coffee turned out to be on my favourite vyshyvanka. Gosh. It is hopelessly spoiled. And the burn hurts too much as well… I raise my eyes slowly to the culprit, well, or the female culprit. Damn, I'm so angry right now that I can throw lightning with my eyes. Whoever it is, I will make him or her lick my skirt. There was a girl standing in front of me. She couldn't have been more than twenty-one or twenty-two years old. The girl was dressed in a light sea-green dress. There also was a short black leather jacket on her. The dress barely covered her knees. Gosh, she’s really tiny… And so pretty one… The very expressive gaze of the emerald eyes brought me into a complete stupor.  To be honest, I have never met such attractive representatives of the fair sex… Something about her was truly mesmerising… The girl straightened her black hair in some kind of embarrassment. Only now I saw the badge on her neck, but I quickly shifted my gaze to the stranger's forehead. I was about to open my mouth to resent, but the lady quickly beat me to it. — I am so sorry, sir… Have I hurt you? Let me help you, please, — the young lady blurted out in her clear and perfect English. Frowning, I continued to gazing at the girl.  "My English is really bad,— I said finally with real displeasure. — But you’ve spoiled my favourite shirt, said I in Ukrainian instead and then walked away, leaving the girl follow me with her eyes. Yes. This day seems already awful personally for me…  Now I have to go back up to my room just to change the clothes.  Damn, I'm so angry right now… I’ve immediately changed the spoiled National shirt for other one and then went down the stairs to the first floor while my team had been already waiting for me. The bus was already waiting at the entrance door as well. Yes, it was high time to go to the press conference. During the interview, I was frankly bored, but I had to grudgingly answer to sometimes frankly stupid questions. But. It was my job.  When my translator diligently and carefully translated each of my answers, my eyes wandered around the half-empty hall. Very few people gathered here. Suddenly, my gaze found one girl… The girl who spilled a cup of coffee on me and spoiled my mood and clothes.  Jesus, wasn’t she about to ask me a question?..  ... — My name is Valeria. I am a journalist of the Russian magazine. And I have some question... — a fragment of my translator's phrase reached my ear. Stop. Wait a minute. Is she from RUSSIA?.. Seriously?..  Damn…  I exhaled loudly, trying to hide my disappointment. I’ve done it really very loudly: my delegation now was staring at me in absolute bewilderment. I realized at once: all of their eyes now were focused only on me… ... — How do you assess your chances of winning? — said the translator, starting to look at me point-blank. I swallowed, but pulled myself together with lightning speed. — Why weren’t you speaking in your native language ?  — I quipped, aiming to offend the Russian girl, of course. The girl smiled shyly, but didn't say a word. — Would you mind my answering in my native language? Not in Russian,— I continued to snide. Valeria nodded very quickly. I began to rant, noting that my country's chances of winning are very high. And that I hope to win. And so on, being very patriotic, of course.  Finally, the translator had said the all my words to her.  Valeria thanked me very stiffly and took her seat at last. Until the very end of the press conference, I was trying to caught her eyes, absolutely without realising, why I so eagerly wanted to do this…