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“You’re Italian, and you’ve never heard of Cynar?” he asks in surprise, his eyebrows raising.
Heat pools in my cheeks. “Well, my father normally only lets me have a glass of wine at dinner.”
“And you’ve never drunk on your own?” he presses, his tone turning skeptical.
My blush intensifies as I realize how childish that must make me sound. But in truth, while my brothers’ college experience allowed them a countless number of freedoms to explore different things–including living on their own for the first time–my father has kept me close to home, insisting college is not the place to allow a girl her first taste of freedom.
Pyotr reads into my silence and lets out a low whistle. “Man, and I thought I was living in a cage.”
My eyes snap up to meet his at his observation, which gives me deep insight into his frame of mind. Pyotr is certainly given a lot more independence than I am, but he feels trapped. Just like me.
Before I can say anything, the restaurant’s front door opens, and a stunning blonde walks in. She’s youthful–around Mila’s age, if I had to guess. Definitely still a teenager. But her platinum blonde hair is cut in a chic A-line bob with sharp angles that accentuate her heart-shaped face and make her prominent cheek dimples pop.
Her fashion is both high-end and bordering on artsy, with plenty of colors all in the right places, creating a look of organized chaos. She pauses in the doorway, her blue eyes scanning the room until she finds Pyotr. Then a smile brightens her face, making her dimples impossible to miss.
“Pyotr!” she exclaims happily, wrapping her arms around his waist as he stands to greet her.
A hint of anxiety trickles into my veins, but I quash it quickly, sure he wouldn’t invite someone on the pretense of introducing us just to make me jealous.
“Hey, Dani,” he says warmly, giving her a squeeze. Then he releases her so she can turn to face me. “This is my fiancée, Silvia. Silvia, this is Danielle Richelieu. I went to school with her older brother.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Dani says, stepping around the table as I rise to greet her.
I expect a handshake. Instead, she pulls me in for a tight hug, catching me off guard and completely disarming me. I like this girl already.
“The pleasure’s mine,” I say as we all settle in at the table once more.
“I’ve heard so much about you, but Pyotr’s failed to mention just how stunning you are,” Dani gushes enthusiastically.
“Oh, um. Thank you. I hope you haven’t heard anything too bad….” I joke lamely as my cheeks flame.
Dani laughs, taking my humor for what it is, though I do wonder what Pyotr could possibly have said about me.
“I hear you’re into art,” I add, wanting to take the focus off me.
“Yes! I–oh, I’ll just take club soda. Thank you, Oscar,” she cuts in as soon as he arrives.
He nods and dips away as Dani turns back to me, her blue eyes brilliant with excitement. “I love art. I really enjoy photography, but I’m fascinated by it all and want to learn the different mediums. You’re an artist, too, right?”
I nod.
“What do you work with most?” Dani interlaces her fingers and props her chin on them as she watches me with intense curiosity.
“Charcoal drawings mostly, some chalk.”
“Oh, I love that! I’ve always wanted to understand it better. It’s such a particular style. The few times I’ve drawn in charcoal, it’s come out looking more like the smoke from a train’s engine than anything I was trying to depict.”
Dani giggles, and I can’t help but join in.
“Would you be willing to teach me?” she asks, her enthusiasm growing.
“Oh.” My back stiffens in surprise. “Sure. I would love to. Maybe you can teach me a few photography techniques in exchange.”
“Please. You’re studying at Rosehill College. Meanwhile, I’m still in high school. I’m sure you’ve already mastered the techniques I’ve learned. But I’m happy to show you everything I know.”
“Great.” I smile broadly.
Oscar, our server, appears a moment later with Dani’s drink and to take our order. I haven’t even spared it a second glance. As if sensing my anxiety, Dani grips my hand to capture my attention.
