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I have no idea what he thinks of me in my short dress and heels. He’d have to be under the influence to give me a compliment, and even then, it would be backhanded. But, the fact is, this is a first for us. He’s never seen me dressed like this. My spaghetti straps are oh so thin. The hem of my dress is flirting with the top of my thighs. My hair is down and straight and dark as night. My sunburn has left me with a warm summer glow. I hope internally he’s having to give himself a pep talk to keep it together. Don’t fall in love with her, Peterson. She’s still enemy #1.
“So,” Gabriella says, gathering the group’s attention and then looking to Lorenzo for backup. “We got to talking, and we think we should skip the stuffy sit-down dinner and head somewhere with a bit more—”
“Excitement,” Lorenzo supplies.
Gabriella claps with glee. “Yes! Are you two game?”
Noah tucks his hands into his pant pockets and shrugs, and since it doesn’t look like he’s going to back down, I quickly agree to go along with whatever they have planned. Though, honestly, I like the sound of a stuffy sit-down dinner. I don’t need to go to that Michelin star place or anything, but I haven’t eaten since noon and my stomach is empty with a capital E.
“This way,” Lorenzo says, taking my hand and tugging me along the sidewalk.
I look back over my shoulder to see Noah gesturing for Gabriella to go ahead, and they fall in line behind us, side by side. He doesn’t take her hand like Lorenzo did with me, and I wonder if she’s disappointed by that.
“You’re going to love where I’m taking you.”
“Will we…uh, be walking the whole time?”
I’m already regretting my choice in footwear.
“It’s not far. I promise. If you get tired, I’ll carry you.” He winks, and I give him a little laugh because it’s obvious he expects one. In truth, I wish he’d hail us a cab and save me the trouble of teetering on these uneven cobblestones. What is it with him and eschewing modern transportation?
I wince when I almost roll my ankle, but he doesn’t notice. He’s telling me all about his cousin.
“He sells motorbikes, but I could talk him into renting us a pair. They’d be pretty beat up, but I’m good with repairs. We could take them up the coast, camp out, live off nature.”
Wow. Did someone give him the template for my nightmare? “Live off nature”? That’s a catchy phrase I want to see hanging over the organic vegetables at Whole Foods, not my life’s motto. I like amenities.
But Lorenzo is waiting for my answer, so I give a noncommittal nod then refocus my attention on the ground in front of me to keep from breaking a leg.
The place Lorenzo and Gabriella agreed upon is a tiny bar slash nightclub. It is poppin’, and when we walk in, I immediately realize my dream of a dinner is not going to become a reality. It’s basically standing room only in here. People crowd into every possible space, filling up tables and bar stools and a small dance floor. They spill out onto the street, but it’s clear Lorenzo wants to be in the action as he leads us into the throngs of people.
“Do they have food here?” I shout over the pulse-pounding music.
“Yeah! Tons!”
So far all I see are bar almonds coated in mystery dust (could be Italian herbs, could be the dead skin cells of the hundred bar patrons that came before me).
“Let’s definitely order a few things. I’m starving!”
“Sure!” Lorenzo shouts back at me.
His first order of business is finding us a table.
He lights up when he sees people he knows, and he spends a while going around to say hello to everyone in the group. After some convincing, they shove over on the long banquette bench that runs the length of the wall and clear some space for us. I end up beside Lorenzo on the bench. Noah takes the chair beside me at the end of the table, and Gabriella gets the chair across from me. We’re all squashed together and there’s really not enough room, especially for Noah who’s totally cramped but can’t scoot back because there’s another group sitting right behind him. I try to give him space by tilting my body toward Lorenzo, but then Lorenzo grinds his foot into my toes and I wince.
Noah’s huge hand finds my bare knee under the table, and I leap a foot in the air.
“Relax,” he says, chiding me. “I’m just tugging you this way so you have room.”
He pulls me toward him, and when my knee is touching his and he’s satisfied with my placement, he lets go. But let me be perfectly clear: as he releases my leg, his hand does this decadent slow drag across my skin and I have a hard time keeping a straight face. Tingles spread from my head to my toes and he’s watching me. He KNOWS.
