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Holding the note she left for me tightly in my hand, I reread it as I walked the South Beach strip later that night.
If you loved watching me eat lunch, you'd really love seeing me swallow a hard Italian breadstick. 8:00. ;-)
She didn't say where, and I felt that it was intentional. Coconut was making me hunt her down, and I was willing to step foot in every Italian restaurant in South Beach to find her.
Thankfully, it didn't come to that. La Trattoria was known for what they called The Italian Breadstick, and they were hard, almost like a cracker. Taking that clue, I went straight there and found her standing outside.
Before she saw me, I took a minute to look at her. She wore more clothes than when we were at the beach club but looked even sexier. Her hair was the same color as mine and pulled into a high ponytail. Her white dress was strappy and tight at the top but flowed wide to her knees. Her face had very little makeup, but I could tell she got sun on the beach by the redness on her cheeks and nose.
Looking around, she finally spotted me, and her face lit up with a big smile, making me feel something in my chest I never had before. A tug I wasn't used to experiencing, and had I not been in peak physical health, I would have thought it was a heart attack.
"You found me!" She clapped as we walked toward one another.
"I know all about The Italian Breadstick, and I wouldn't have missed seeing it on your tongue for all the goals in the league."
"There you go again. Being both sexy and charming at the same time."
"But not noble, right?"
She just smiled at me as I faked a shiver at the idea of being noble. It was another moment when our eyes locked, and we couldn't look away. Not until someone had asked to get by, and we had to move out of the walking path.
There was a long wait to get into the restaurant, with people lining every wall and bench, even spilling out onto the sidewalk. But as we approached the hostess, I gave her one wink, and she seated us immediately. Coconut and I settled in and ordered water, then I leaned onto the table and smiled at her.
"Are you going to tell me your name now?"
"No," she laughed, shaking her head and making her ponytail swing behind her.
"That seems unfair, Coconut. You know my name."
"Is Tripp your real name?"
Raising an eyebrow, I smirked and tilted my head. "Wouldn't you like to know?"
"I'm sure it's on the internet if I got curious enough."
"I'm sure I could look up IMG on the internet as well. I bet they have a list of their agents."
She gave me a fake gasp and put her hand to her chest. "You wouldn't!"
"I would," I winked. "Don't make me Google."
Before she answered me, the waiter brought our water and asked to take our orders. Coconut knew precisely what she wanted, and I asked her to order for me since I hadn't even bothered looking at the menu. Hell, I didn't even care what I ate. As long as her tongue touched the breadsticks, I was happy.
The conversation flowed while we waited for our food, which shocked me. When I suggested dinner, I figured we would spend the whole night flirting and toeing the edge of our sanity with lust-induced innuendos. But it didn't matter what she spoke about. I found each little nugget of information fascinating.
Stories about her job, being born and raised in Miami, and how she had a younger brother who would die if he knew she was having dinner with Tripp Maddux. She wasn't very open about her parents, but I ended up telling her that I was raised by a single mom after my dad had died when I was twelve.
All night, I kept asking myself why I told her details no one knew. It must have been because I knew I wouldn't see her again, so it didn't matter.
When dinner came, we dove in, taking bites while smiling and looking at each other. It was the most ridiculously simple yet amazing night. Was it a date? I didn't know. Shit, I didn't even know her name. But it felt like something.
"Here," I handed her a breadstick that had been placed in the middle of our table. "You almost forgot to wrap your lips around this."
"You're dirty," she shook her head, then took the breadstick.
"You love it," I teased her. "Do you need to get it wet first, or do you just raw dog it?"
"Depends on how I'm eating it," she joked back. "And how far I'm taking it at one time."
