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I glared at Evelyn, “Too much info for a stranger, Eve.”
“His name is Roger. He’s new to Milan and on vacation, so be extra nice to him,” Evelyn told me.
“Nope,” I smirked, “He’s still a stranger. I’m not on duty. I don’t have to be nice to him.”
The guy asked me. “So, what’s your problem with me?”
“Who says there has to be a problem just because I’m not being nice?” I snapped.
“Hmm,” he smiled. His smile widened. It was like he’d just discovered something I didn’t know.
“What?” I asked, irritated.
“Oh, nothing,” he smirked.
I didn’t like the sarcastic look on his face. I wanted nothing more than to wipe it off. He shouldn’t act so smug.
“What’s so funny?” I asked, still irritated.
“Well, it’s obvious you’ve been hurt before,” he replied.
“Oh, so you’re a Prophet,” I glared at him. “Do tell me, what gave it away?”
“You’re lashing out, being mean to any man. It’s a dead giveaway,” he smirked.
“Whatever,” I said sarcastically.
“Oh, come on, why not talk to me? As Evelyn said, I am here on vacation for a short time. No strings. I don’t know anyone here. Besides, I’ve had my fair share of women who have hurt me. I’m not directing any anger to you,” he coaxed.
I replied condescendingly, “Probably because you want something from me. Besides, what could you possibly have suffered at the hands of women? It’s your type that terrorizes women.”
“What type might I ask are you referring to? And why do you find it hard to believe that I’ve been ‘hurt’ by a woman before?” Roger asked.
“You’re that extremely hot, gorgeous man who uses your looks and charm to his advantage. It’s the cliche, too good-looking for any girl to pass you up.” Evelyn squealed at my response a little too loudly for my liking.
I rolled my eyes. “Can’t you be a little bit subtle, Eve?”
“I’m being subtle, at least my definition of subtle. Mandy, even you can’t deny that he’s hot,” Evelyn said.
Roger smiles devilishly at Evelyn and says, “Well, Evelyn, I’ll take that as a compliment. Thank you!”
To avoid more gushing by Evelyn, I look at Roger and, on the smug side, say, “All right, Roger, spill it. Who would hurt you?”
“My ex-girlfriend,” he replied—suddenly, a somber expression appeared.
I frowned. I realize that he was serious about being hurt and was being truthful.
That realization didn’t bring me the joy I’d expected. Instead, it made me feel sorry for him. I knew firsthand being hurt by someone you care deeply for.
“Would you like to talk about it ?” I asked calmly—my way of offering an olive branch.
He noticed how the tone of my voice changed. He immediately shook his head, replying sternly, “That’s not happening. I won’t be bonding over heartbreak with anyone. Especially a beautiful bartender with an attitude.” He laughed out loud after that comment.
It made me smile, and Eve was grinning from ear to ear. But that was precisely what we did. The next couple of hours we spent talking about our exes.
I told him my story and why I had to leave New York and chose Milan. It’s a fun, exciting country where I could escape for a while and be anonymous. That was six months ago.
“So you’re a yoga instructor by day and a bartender by night?” he asked.
