“Not all of them. But they weren’t like him,” I defended. “He spoke differently than the others.”
It was true, his friends spoke louder and were more foul-mouthed. Desi’s way of speaking was more formal, despite his appearance.
His blue eyes filled my mind while I showered, and his odd smile was the last thing I thought of as I fell asleep. I woke up after noon, and still, all I could think about was the handsome stranger to whom I wished happy birthday last night.
“You didn’t get his number?” Brenda leaned across the couch and swatted me gently on the shoulder. “Fool!”
“I know, I know.” I pulled my feet up and stared sadly at the TV. The Fresh Prince of Bel-Airjust wasn’t doing it for me today. How could I lust after Will Smith when I couldn’t get Desiderio out of my head?
Desi.
Even if I never saw him again, he’d always be Desi to me. Brenda was right; I should have gotten his phone number.
“What are your plans for tonight?” I asked. It was my night off, and we usually had friends over for drinks.
Brenda sighed, but I could hear the happiness in her voice. “I have to pack. I’ve been putting it off but Alexander is coming in a week and he said we’ll need to leave as soon as possible. Work didn’t give him much time off.”
“This is our last weekend together.” I whined.
“Yes, but you’ll see me at the wedding.”
“Wedding? Alexander proposed?”
“No, but with me moving across the country for him, he better be picking up a ring on the way.” She put her arm around me, pulling me toward her. “And when that happens, I want you as a bridesmaid.”
“Thanks,” I muttered. Already, I was imagining the price of a dress. I’d have to save for weeks.
“Or who knows? Maybe I’ll be coming to yours first?”
“Mine?” I pulled away, laughing at the thought. “Sadly, my magazines don’t talk back.”
“I still think you should try to find this guy. What did you say his name was?” She went to the kitchen.
“Desiderio.” I stood and followed her. For some reason, I was protective of the shortened version of his name. He had told me that I was the first to call him that. I wanted to be the only one. She pointed at me as she opened the fridge and pulled out a bottle of vodka and a carton of orange juice.
“Desiderio. What do you think that is, Italian?”
“Maybe. But it doesn’t matter. Relationships have never been my thing.”
“I think you just never met a good match.”
“How do you know he is?” I countered.
“Because you light up whenever he’s mentioned. I never saw you smile like that for Hank Derris.”
My last real boyfriend was embarrassing to even think about. We lasted two months when I should have called it after the first date.
“Or—”
“Okay, I get the point.” I put my hands up to stop her.
She poured us two drinks, and I took one.
“If I see him again, I’ll ask for his number,” I lied. I knew I’d chicken out.
“Good. Now, let’s go get some boxes from behind the dollar store.” She looked at her wristwatch. “It’s shift change so they’ll be clean ones by the dumpster.”
Hopping into her car, we drove to grab boxes and pick up tape and markers to get her packed up. When we got home, I turned on my stereo system and we listened toOpen House Partywhile we got drunk off screwdrivers and folded her clothes into boxes.
