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Once Lorenzo popped that in the oven, it was time to be seated at the table as the other courses had been cooking whilst we were making dessert. He started transferring the soup into six bowls, and we each carried them into the dining room.
I took my normal seat at the end of the table nearest the door. Suddenly the chair beside me was pulled out and Lorenzo sat down, giving me another cheeky smirk in the process.
Wonders will never cease. More miracles were happening: a) he’d chosen to sit next to me, b) he’d smiled at me (again), and c) something told me that he was starting to like me. So far, so good…
I gave him a flirty smile, playing with my hair as I did so and tilting my head to one side seductively. This felt sooo weird. I wasn’t used to all of this coquettish behaviour, but it appeared to be having the desired effect. He smiled back again.
‘So, where are you from?’ he asked, turning to face me.
‘London,’ I replied, surprised that he was actually making conversation. ‘Have you ever been?’
‘Ah yes, many years ago. To meet a girl,’ he said, smiling mischievously.
‘To meet a girl, eh?’ I said, returning the smile. ‘How did that work out?’
‘Long story,’ he said, smirking again.
‘Oh, I bet. You seem like averymysterious man,’ I said flirtatiously. ‘Full of surprises…’
‘Mmm, maybe,’ he added suggestively whilst holding my gaze.
‘Well,maybelater you’ll tell me more…’ Eyelash flutter, more smiling, hair playing and head tilting. I was throwing everything at this. Then the alarm on the oven went off for the cake. Dammit.
‘I will be back,’ he said. ‘I will just check the cake and get the fowl.’ He grinned again and headed to the kitchen.
My imagination was already running wild, thinking about how the evening could end if things continued in this direction. By now, thanks to the drinking I’d been doing whilst cooking, I was already on my third glass of prosecco, hence why I was more than a little relaxed, but I still had to maintain some focus if I was going to see this through.
He returned to the table with the plates of food. When he did, everyone was deep in discussion, and it felt awkward to continue a private conversation on our own. After the main course, he returned to the kitchen to get the dish I’d been waiting for: the cake.
In honour of Dan’s birthday tomorrow, he’d made it into a birthday cake adorned with candles. So kind. We sang ‘Happy Birthday’ in English (our vocab didn’t stretch to the Italian version), and then it was time to cut the cake.
‘Can’t wait to taste this,’ I said enthusiastically. ‘I absolutelyadorecake.’
Lorenzo smiled, then cut off an extra-large slice and transferred it straight to my plate. Could this be miracle number five? I was losing count. Either way, by feeding me big portions of cake, he was shaping up to be my kind of man.
‘Thank you, Lorenzo. You certainly know how to make a woman happy,’ I said flirtatiously.Go, Soph.
He smiled and then licked his lips.
Oh dear God…
Once everyone had devoured their cake, he pulled the remains towards him. He cut himself a slice, stared deeply into my eyes again and then reached back over to the cake, cut me another generous slice and then placed it on my plate, still holding my gaze seductively.
Something might be brewing here…
I needed to move this to the next level. Tricky as we were at a table with four other people, so if I said anything too suggestive, they’d hear.
Roxy’s and Monique’s words buzzed around my brain:Get out there. Flirt. Practise. You need to practise.They were right. I seemed to be doing fine on the flirting side of things, so now I just had to move it on a little. He seemed like he liked me a bit, but what if I pushed it too much and he said no? Nobody enjoys rejection. Least of all when it’s their first time dipping their toes back in the man-waters after so many years.
Fuck it. Was I going to go back home filled withif onlysandwhat ifs, or was I going to grab this opportunity by the balls (quite literally) and just go for it?
I’m going to go for it, dammit.
I started to brainstorm. I couldn’t make suggestions verbally, but what if I typed something on my phone and showed it to him subtly without the others seeing?
Yes. That could work.
Okay. I needed to think of what to say. I was now on prosecco number five and limoncello number two, so my copywriting skills were likely to be a little cloudy…
