“No, it would just be a continuation of this date, number one.”
He looks up and nods for the waitress to bring us the bill.
“In that case, I’d better be on my way. Since you’re busy Friday, how about we get together Saturday? Let’s do something crazy, like go to a movie.”
“A movie? That’s not crazy, Luca.”
“You’ll see.” He hands me his phone. “Punch your address in there and I’ll pick you up at eight.”
I start typing in my address. He’s filed me in his contacts as Tina Great Legs Nice Smile Kinda Bossy.
I glance up and see that he’s grinning. He meant for me to see that.
Chapter 9
My best friend, Rory, pulls a hot cookie sheet full of cheese-covered nacho chips from my oven.
She’s got a hair net over her dark, curly hair. Most people would find the hair net odd, but Rory works in catering, and seeing hair in food makes her scream.
“Your oven is ridiculous,” she says.
The chips have all slid to one side, because the oven is a tiny European model. A regular stove wouldn’t fit in the kitchen. With this stove, the baking trays I own will only fit when propped up at a ten degree angle.
“You’re ridiculous,” I answer, because that’s one of our little games. She’ll make a comment about something, and I’ll turn it around to be about her.
It’s Saturday, and she’s hanging out with me until Luca comes over at eight.
She tucks the hair net away in her pocket and shakes out her curly dark hair. The white streak peeks through. Her hair is a few shades darker than mine, and she’s got one streak of white that occasionally reveals itself. She used to color the streak dark, just so people wouldn’t ask if she had paint in her hair, but she’s stopped worrying about that lately.
She keeps looking over at the clock on my fireplace mantle, amidst my photos. Her checking the time is making me nervous. She might stick around so she can meet Luca, but it’s more likely she’ll freak out and run off before he arrives.
“I changed my mind,” she says. “You can’t go on any dates. I won’t be able to relax until you tell me you’re back home, safe and sound.”
“Don’t worry, Rory. I’m not going to let him touch my undergarments.”
She bristles visibly at the mention of undergarments. I haven’t said any of her dreaded words, such as panties or bra, but the idea alone is enough to bother her.
We take our seats at the round table overlooking the back yard and start eating our nachos.
After a moment, she says, “Promise me you won’t move to Australia with him.”
We both look over at the big coffee table book Luca dropped off for me at the flower shop on Friday. It’s a collection of photos showing the diversity of Australia.
“He just bought a garage on Baker Street,” I assure her. “He’s not going anywhere. And neither am I.”
“There’s something wrong with him. I have a bad feeling.”
“Well, I have a good feeling.”
She narrows her eyes at me. “You have a party feeling in your you-know-what.”
“Maybe I do.” I don’t say it, but I’m surprised Rory was able to make a vague reference to sexual desire. I wonder if she’s making progress with her phobias.
We eat quietly. It’s coming up on seven-thirty.
I can’t help myself, so I ask Rory, “Do you ever get a party feeling in your you-know-what?”
She looks up, her golden-brown eyes wide and horrified. For a moment, I think she’s going to throw up, but she doesn’t. She stands, grabs her bag, and lets herself out the door without a word.
I finish eating, brush my teeth, and fuss around with my hair.
The intercom connected to the main house buzzes. I groan, because I know exactly what’s happened. Luca ignored my directions, just like every pizza delivery guy does, and went to the main house.
I grab my purse and run out to meet him.
He’s standing on the front step, talking to my sister. They’re laughing about their shared adventure, selling out the flower shop on Wednesday.
“There’s our Teenie,” he says. “Thanks, Meenie.” He gives her a nod goodbye. She waves at me and disappears into the house.
“You clean up good,” I say, looking him up and down. He’s wearing a button-down shirt with dress slacks and stylish leather shoes. I feel underdressed in my flower-print sundress, topped in a cardigan.
“And I see you brought the flower shop with you.”
I look down, frowning at my dress.
“My best friend Rory didn’t like it, either,” I say.
“That was meant to be a compliment,” he says.
“Thank you. What movie are we going to see?”
“It’s a surprise.” He offers me his elbow in an old-fashioned sort of way.
I tuck my hand into the crook of his arm and walk with him to the street.
He steers us over to an old-fashioned-looking motorbike and hands me a helmet.
A bike. I should have known. And I’m wearing a dress.
The sun has just gone down, and the world around us is midnight blue.
I’m nervous to get on a motorbike for the first time in my life, but one look into Luca’s eyes makes me feel confident. He’s not some punk kid who’s going to drive fast to impress or terrify me. I can trust him.
He helps me fasten the helmet’s buckle under my chin, his hands enveloping mine.
He turns and throws one long, muscled leg over the bike. I climb on behind him.
My heart’s pounding.
I’m on a motorbike, with my arms wrapped around Luca Lowell. I’m about as nervous as Rory would be at a performance of the Vagina Monologues.
He starts the bike’s engine, and the night air fills with a deep rumble. The vibration between my legs is… interesting.
We’re off, riding down the street.
The skirt of my dress ruffles up in the breeze, and I’m sure everyone’s getting a great view of my panties, but I don’t even mind. I’ve got my arms around Luca’s big, strong torso, and I don’t want to ever let go.
We ride past the local movie theater. I try to ask him where he’s taking me, but he doesn’t hear me over the rumble.
Eventually, we pull off the main road and ride into another residential neighborhood. He pulls up behind a giant, white trailer and parks the bike.
My legs feel like they’re shaking when I step off the bike. The engine’s off, but I can still feel the rumbling vibration in my body.