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She slams the rest of her strawberry margarita as the last bits of sun disappear behind the horizon. The string lights that span the area of the outdoor bar turn on, and suddenly I feel like I’m right in the middle of a foreign romance film. I’m holding a glass of wine in one hand and a lit cigarette in the other, basking in the low light as it hits my face perfectly.
“June, who was that guy you were talking to for a while? The one who ended up having warrants?” Grace asks with a devious smile on her face.
“It wasn’t like he was dealing drugs or anything,” I reply with a hint of irritation. For someone with so little life experience, Grace sure does like to bring up everyone else’s low points. She just hasn’t had hers yet, and I struggle to imagine what it will be. Hopefully, something that brings her down a few pegs.
Right before we left for Italy, I was dating a guy named Zeke, who worked in finance. My mother was overjoyed that I had found someone with such a high-paying, stable job, so I stuck it out far longer than I should have.
Zeke ended up being an entitled, sociopathic man-child who expected me to do his laundry and cook him meals after the second time I visited his apartment. For someone who has so much money, he refused to take me out and always insisted that we split the bill when we ordered in. I felt like he treated me like one of his buddies when I knew for a fact that he bought his ex a Tiffany tennis bracelet.
“Okay, okay, I know. I just thought the whole thing was really interesting. I’d never use those apps for dating, personally,” she replies in her snide, holier-than-thou tone that she takes on when she gets a little too tipsy. Personally, I think that’s how she always is, but alcohol gives her the bravado to unleash it in its full power.
“Oh my god, do you see that guy over there? Kind of in the corner of the patio?” Priya whispers, motioning over to a lone man at the edge of the bar with her eyes.
It’s no wonder that he caught her attention. He’s the kind of man that you would describe as beautiful rather than handsome.
Even in the low light, I can see the depth of his eyes as they shift around the patio. His black hair is a bit long in the front, and it’s just messy enough to give that signature devil-may-care impression. His skin is somewhat weathered, which only serves to intrigue me even more. How did he get that scar through his left eyebrow?
His arms are covered in tattoos, only to be seen by the skin of his forearms that shows under his rolled sleeves. I look around him to see where his date is, positive that he brought someone just as beautiful to accompany him.
Not a soul.
He’s so perfectly disheveled that I can’t help but stare at him. I feel so ridiculous, fawning over a man at a bar like I’m eighteen with a fake ID again. But there’s something about him that makes it impossible for me to look away. He has a magnetism that I’ve only ever heard about from others, never experienced myself with anyone I’ve dated or interacted with.
“Shhh! Priya! The bar isn’t that big. He’s going to hear you!” Grace scolds, whispering harshly with a sense of urgency in her voice. She’s so annoying. I’m starting to wish that she hadn’t come. If she wanted to sit at home and watch The Bachelor in Paradise in her college sweatpants, she could have just said that.
“Who’s going to go talk to him?” Priya says mischievously. “I think it should be you, Grace. He looks like he could fuck you into another dimension. He could probably change your entire worldview.”
Grace rolls her eyes as hard as she can, briefly giving herself the same appearance as the actress from The Exorcist. “Priya, we are not the same. No man’s penis is going to change my mind about anything. Have some self-respect.”
They continue bickering for what feels like thirty minutes while I sneak glances at their topic of conversation. He’s still alone, which gives me the impression that he didn’t bring a date or come here to meet anyone. He does, however, seem keen on leaving with someone.
My chest flutters at the thought of him approaching me for that exact reason, but I talk myself out of the fantasy. Why would he choose me when Samira and Priya are right here? They dressed to get picked up tonight. I’m justhere.Grace’s whole aura is a big cement block of disinterest, so I’m not competing with her, but I’m not even in the same league as the other two.
Still, I’m so drawn to him that I can’t stop glancing in his direction.
The wine isn’t helping, either. I’m drinking the best Merlot I’ve ever had in my life, and it’s rushing to all the right places as my cheeks flush with drunken desire. It’s a little embarrassing to be here with my friends in such a state, but they’re all riding the train to blackout city at a staggering pace. I’m certain they don’t even notice.
Just as I can’t imagine things getting any more heated, the man locks eyes with me from across the bar. I freeze, holding his gaze as I panic internally. Did he notice I was staring at him? Does he think I’m insane?
Shit. He definitely thinks I’m insane now.
As if I couldn’t get any more nervous, he stands up and approaches our group. His gait is confident and intentional, indicating that he’s still sober enough to remain collected. He’s not going to drunkenly shamble over here to tell us all how beautiful we are, harassing us until we have to call the manager to kick him out.
At least, I hope he doesn’t. If he were that type, I would be so embarrassed for letting his looks consume me like they have been.
I, however, am quickly approaching drunkenness, and I struggle to compose myself as he grows closer to us.
“Hi ladies, couldn’t help but notice you from across the bar. You’re not from around here, yeah?” he asks, his Italian accent weaving an intricate pattern through my mind as I listen.
“Oh, we’re from the United States. We’re here until next Friday,” Samira replies, her perfect lips forming a demure, come-hither smile.
I feel a pang of jealousy towards her, and I focus intently on not allowing it to show on my face.
“Oh, that’s not nearly enough time,” he replies, turning his head towards me and softening his expression. “I noticeyou’vebeen awfully quiet.”
I freeze, every faculty in my brain struggling to form a cohesive response. “Oh, well, I’m just trying not to dominate the conversation.”
He smiles knowingly as if he can detect the ridiculousness of my lie. “Huh, interesting. Can I buy you a drink to get you talking a bit more?”
