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“I guess so.” I sighed. “You want to order in or…”
“No, let me take you out,” he said with a smile.
“Oh, I don’t think so.” I shook my head. “I don’t really have any money, and I don’t have a job.”
“Hey, it’s on me. What are friends for, right?”
I tilted my head to the side and gave him a warm smile. “Okay, that’ll be nice. I’m just going to shower now, and then I’ll meet you later.”
“Sounds good. Two hours?”
“Yeah.” I nodded. “Thanks, Josh.” I reached over and squeezed his hands.
“It will be fun,” he said. “I promise.”
“I know,” I said.
Because even if he wasn’t Antonio, he was safe, and he was nice, and he was someone I could trust. He was genuine. He didn’t have any hidden agendas, and he would make me stop thinking about Antonio. I didn’t want to spend the rest of the day and the evening thinking about what had happened. I didn’t want to drive myself crazy. I just wanted to have a night to process everything, and then tomorrow, I’d be mad. Because tomorrow I knew I’d see Imogen, we’d discuss it, and I’d be talking to my dad to try to get some answers.
Tomorrow, I could think about it. Tonight, I was going to forget everything that had ever happened and try to be me.
8
Antonio
“She’s most probably sobbing into her pillow right now,” I said to Alessandro as we made our way to the coffee shop where Elisabetta was waiting.
“You think?” Alessandro said, checking his phone for what must have been the hundredth time.
“Dude, Gia’s obviously not texting you back.”
“I just think it’s hella rude that she’s not even going to respond,” he said, shaking his head.
“Why? When’s the last time you actually spoke to her?”
“Yeah. We haven’t spoken in a while, but we used to be friends, and she could at least respond now. What if it was important?”
“You used to be more than friends.”
“No, we didn’t,” he said. “We were only friends.”
“I don’t mean you were fucking lovers, Alessandro. I mean, you used to be best friends, right?”
“I don’t recall,” he said.
I rolled my eyes. “Dude, you two were always together. It annoyed the shit out of me. It annoyed the shit out of Dad as well. He was like, are you a pussy? Remember?”
It was his turn to roll his eyes. “Yeah. I remember Dad asking if I was gay because my best friend was a girl. He’s such a fucking asshole.”
“That he is,” I said, nodding. “But you’re not best friends anymore. You’re not even friends anymore, so why would she message you back?”
“Common courtesy,” he said.
I sighed. “Anyway, I hope she’s not crying so hard that she wakes up with red, blotchy eyes tomorrow,” I said and smiled. “Well, maybe just a little blotchy.”
“Dude, really?” He stared at me.
“What? I mean, I did fuck her last night, and I was her first, and you know women. She most probably had us married in ten years with three kids honeymooning in Hawaii.”
