Noah tells the kids to get some water and take a load off before dinner.
I take my robe and toiletries to the bathroom, yank aside one of the shower curtains, and turn the water nozzle until it’s on the coldest setting. Conscious that Noah could walk into the bathroom at any moment (something I live in constant fear of), I undress inside the shower and hang my clothes on the hook out on the wall. Icy water spills down my back and I turn to let it cover my face and chest. It’s not enough; when I look in the mirror after I’m done with my shower, my face is still flushed. I’m cooked through. Well-done.
I guzzle water in my room and lie down on my bed until I have no choice but to get up and get ready for my double date. With all the energy zapped from my bones, I couldn’t care less about what I wear, which works in my favor because I have very few “going out” clothes here with me in Rome. Okay, who am I kidding—I have very few “going out” clothes back home either. I was doing some last-minute shopping for the trip, getting the essentials—a mini travel-sized deodorant and mini travel-sized vibrator—when I strolled past a trendy boutique and saw a mannequin wearing a simple black silk dress that looked effortless and cool and juuust sexy enough for me to pull off without feeling like an idiot. The price tag made my eye twitch, but the hot girl behind the counter told me they were having a sale and now here I am, on the streets of Rome, looking like a genuine fox. Or so I keep telling myself.
In truth, the sun really took it out of me today. I’m the kind of tired where one night’s sleep won’t cut it. I need someone to whack me over the head with a two-by-four so I’m out for five to ten business days.
Even with a fresh face of makeup, I still don’t feel like myself. I’m considering just taking the L and canceling, Noah be damned, but then the rest of my group spills out of the gate of St. Cecilia’s and the time for backing out has officially passed.
Chapter Eleven
“Woo! Gang’s all here!” Gabriella says with an excited little shimmy. “Ashley is all set with the kids, so we’re good to go.”
“Have you been out here long?” Lorenzo asks, stepping forward to kiss my cheeks.
“Just a few minutes.”
In truth, if I’d stayed in my room a second longer, I would have fallen asleep on my bed. It was so inviting. Even now, thinking back on it sends a little ripple of pleasure down my spine.
Noah hangs back near the gate and doesn’t greet me, at least not in a way that’s socially acceptable. Our stare-off works for us, though. He’s wearing a dark green linen button-down with the top two buttons undone. Enough of his toned chest is showing that I feel like I’m supposed to avert my eyes. He’s done that wonderful thing with his hair where it’s combed back and styled just a bit. He looks like a playboy on a backpacking trip through Europe. There’s a poor girl pining for him at every port.
I have no idea what he thinks of me in my short dress and heels. He’d have to be under the influence to give me a compliment, and even then, it would be backhanded. But, the fact is, this is a first for us. He’s never seen me dressed like this. My spaghetti straps are oh so thin. The hem of my dress is flirting with the top of my thighs. My hair is down and straight and dark as night. My sunburn has left me with a warm summer glow. I hope internally he’s having to give himself a pep talk to keep it together. Don’t fall in love with her, Peterson. She’s still enemy #1.
“So,” Gabriella says, gathering the group’s attention and then looking to Lorenzo for backup. “We got to talking, and we think we should skip the stuffy sit-down dinner and head somewhere with a bit more—”
“Excitement,” Lorenzo supplies.
Gabriella claps with glee. “Yes! Are you two game?”
Noah tucks his hands into his pant pockets and shrugs, and since it doesn’t look like he’s going to back down, I quickly agree to go along with whatever they have planned. Though, honestly, I like the sound of a stuffy sit-down dinner. I don’t need to go to that Michelin star place or anything, but I haven’t eaten since noon and my stomach is empty with a capital E.
“This way,” Lorenzo says, taking my hand and tugging me along the sidewalk.
I look back over my shoulder to see Noah gesturing for Gabriella to go ahead, and they fall in line behind us, side by side. He doesn’t take her hand like Lorenzo did with me, and I wonder if she’s disappointed by that.
“You’re going to love where I’m taking you.”
“Will we…uh, be walking the whole time?”
I’m already regretting my choice in footwear.
“It’s not far. I promise. If you get tired, I’ll carry you.” He winks, and I give him a little laugh because it’s obvious he expects one. In truth, I wish he’d hail us a cab and save me the trouble of teetering on these uneven cobblestones. What is it with him and eschewing modern transportation?
I wince when I almost roll my ankle, but he doesn’t notice. He’s telling me all about his cousin.
“He sells motorbikes, but I could talk him into renting us a pair. They’d be pretty beat up, but I’m good with repairs. We could take them up the coast, camp out, live off nature.”
Wow. Did someone give him the template for my nightmare? “Live off nature”? That’s a catchy phrase I want to see hanging over the organic vegetables at Whole Foods, not my life’s motto. I like amenities.
But Lorenzo is waiting for my answer, so I give a noncommittal nod then refocus my attention on the ground in front of me to keep from breaking a leg.
The place Lorenzo and Gabriella agreed upon is a tiny bar slash nightclub. It is poppin’, and when we walk in, I immediately realize my dream of a dinner is not going to become a reality. It’s basically standing room only in here. People crowd into every possible space, filling up tables and bar stools and a small dance floor. They spill out onto the street, but it’s clear Lorenzo wants to be in the action as he leads us into the throngs of people.