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The guys start talking about something else, giving me a second to kick Emilia under the table. She looks at me and mouths the word what? I make my eyes big as I mouth back the word nice in question. She rolls her eyes at my teasing. Callan catches the exchange and laughs but covers it with a poor excuse of a cough. I look up at him to see the laughter sparkling in his dark eyes. He really is sexy-hot. It makes me sad. Why couldn’t he be the waiter here? That’s much more my speed.
He keeps looking at me and heat spreads through my chest as a blush creeps into my cheeks. I break eye contact, flustered by his attention. I can’t seem to stop myself from reacting strangely to him. It’s weird. I never do this around other guys. I mean, admittedly the guys I know aren’t as good-looking as Callan, but they’re cute.Still, he’s not for me.Even if what I said to Emilia about a man like Niko wanting to marry me was true, it’s not feasible. I want a man I have things in common with. I want to be comfortable with who we are together, not feel out of my depth. We’re just not in the same social classes. No, the woman that Callan has in his life would wear designer clothes and most certainly doesn’t cut her own hair in her bathroom mirror. Her father is likely not a cook at a no-name restaurant, either. I can almost guarantee this man has never set foot in a place like that.
After ordering our food, the conversation goes to graduation. While Niko and Emilia are chatting about it, Callan turns to me.
“Are you graduating, too?” he asks, slightly turning his body to face me.
“I am,” I admit. “We’ve been in the same class since elementary school. That’s also how long we’ve been best friends.”
“Yes, we have,” Emilia agrees. “If it hadn’t been for Zoe, I never would’ve made it through school. I hated boarding school.”
“Why did you hate it? It’s the best school in the U.S.,” Niko interjects.
“I was completely alone and separated from my father. Zoe was the only person I could depend on.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. You can depend on me. You only need to ask,” Niko says intensely, making Emilia blush. “What are your plans now that you’re graduating?”
“I wasn’t aware I could make plans,” Emilia says, lifting an eyebrow.
I sputter on my drink of water, quickly covering my mouth with the cloth napkin as I give her a wide-eyed look. She just lifts her chin defiantly as she waits for Niko’s answer. Callan seems to fight a smile. I take a deep breath as his attention is off me and he’s watching the others.
“What do you mean?” Niko asks, frowning.
“I assume since I’m supposed to marry you, it’s not like I can make plans.”
Her comments make his frown deepen.
“Just because we are getting married, doesn’t mean you aren’t allowed to make plans. I want you to be happy.”
“What if my plans are not to get married?” Emilia asks. The tension between them rises to an uncomfortable level. I reach across the table and pat my friend’s hand in support. Even though I think she will be happy marrying him, it doesn’t mean she should do it quietly. She should be able to voice her opinion.
Callan clears his throat, pushing back his chair as he stands. I think he’s about to excuse himself when he holds out his hand to me as Niko and Emilia are locked in a staring contest.
“Would you like to dance?” Callan asks.
“Our food hasn’t come yet,” I tell him, reaching for any excuse.
“That’s why it’s the perfect time to do so,” Callan says, his hand still extended out to me. “We can give Niko and Emilia time to talk.”
I look across at my friend, and she nods in agreement. I’m hesitant to take his hand, but I finally do.
As I start to follow him, I can’t help but be super in tune to the touch of his hand on mine.
“I don’t see a dance floor,” I tell him.
“That’s because it’s on the roof,” Callan says.
“You realize you know nothing about me. There’s a big chance that I can’t dance and I’ll walk all over your feet,” I tell him.
He turns to grin at me. “You can do whatever you want to me.” His words have me swallowing nervously.
“I don’t like men who openly flirt,” I mumble, speaking my thoughts out loud more than I am telling him.
“That’s good because I’m not flirting.”
“What are you doing then?” I ask.
“Just speaking the truth,” he says with a mischievous smile, which has the butterflies in my stomach doing somersaults.
