“Do they have food here?” I shout over the pulse-pounding music.
“Yeah! Tons!”
So far all I see are bar almonds coated in mystery dust (could be Italian herbs, could be the dead skin cells of the hundred bar patrons that came before me).
“Let’s definitely order a few things. I’m starving!”
“Sure!” Lorenzo shouts back at me.
His first order of business is finding us a table.
He lights up when he sees people he knows, and he spends a while going around to say hello to everyone in the group. After some convincing, they shove over on the long banquette bench that runs the length of the wall and clear some space for us. I end up beside Lorenzo on the bench. Noah takes the chair beside me at the end of the table, and Gabriella gets the chair across from me. We’re all squashed together and there’s really not enough room, especially for Noah who’s totally cramped but can’t scoot back because there’s another group sitting right behind him. I try to give him space by tilting my body toward Lorenzo, but then Lorenzo grinds his foot into my toes and I wince.
Noah’s huge hand finds my bare knee under the table, and I leap a foot in the air.
“Relax,” he says, chiding me. “I’m just tugging you this way so you have room.”
He pulls me toward him, and when my knee is touching his and he’s satisfied with my placement, he lets go. But let me be perfectly clear: as he releases my leg, his hand does this decadent slow drag across my skin and I have a hard time keeping a straight face. Tingles spread from my head to my toes and he’s watching me. He KNOWS.
It’s a knee-jerk reaction, I tell myself. It could happen to anyone.
“This is a good setup, right?!” Lorenzo asks.
Gabriella beams. “It’s amazing! I love little dives like this. Should we start with a round of shots?”
Lorenzo flags down a passing waiter and slips him a few euros as an incentive for quick service, which actually works, because he hurries back a few minutes later, his tray laden with shots of clear liquor and…are those coffee beans floating on top?
“This is sambuca,” Lorenzo explains. “Sometimes you’d take the shot with seven coffee beans which represents the seven hills of Rome. But tonight, I asked him to do three coffee beans for health, happiness, and prosperity. Watch.”
He nods toward the waiter, who ignites each of the four shot glasses in an impressive display. Bright blue flames dance over the liquor and the people around us cheer. Once the coffee beans are toasted, the waiter extinguishes the flames and passes the shots around to us.
“Cin cin,” Lorenzo cheers.
“Cin cin,” we repeat, clinking glasses before we all down the shot.
I’ve never had sambuca before and had no idea what to expect. The overwhelming taste of licorice is offset by cinnamon and vanilla, but then it hits my empty stomach like a two-ton boulder.
If it’s possible, I’m drunk that moment.
“Another?” Gabriella asks, half-turning in her seat to flag down the waiter.
“Let’s get some food first,” Noah suggests, and though I normally live to contradict him, right now he and I are on the same page.
Gabriella tries to grab a passing waiter, but she doesn’t succeed.
“They’ll come around again,” Lorenzo insists, seeming unbothered by the wait. “So what did you guys think about the Roman Forum?”
“I loved it!” Gabriella gushes, leaning over the table. “You remind me of a professor I had in undergrad, only you’re quite possibly more knowledgeable than even he was. I’ve been around Rome plenty of times, but you make it all seem so interesting again. Have you been doing it a while?”
He beams proudly. “Tours around Rome? For years. I love it.”
“I can tell. I wish we could have stayed a bit longer at the Forum today. I know the kids were tired, but I barely had a chance to see the Lapis Niger that marks Romulus’ tomb.”
“His tomb?” Lorenzo shakes his head. “No. I think it marks the spot where he was murdered by the senate, not his actual tomb. Though scholars go back and forth on it.”
Her eyes light up. “I’d forgotten that theory. You’re right.”
They shift topics and begin a more in-depth discussion of the Curia Julia, which was the original seat of the Roman senate and a building we saw today. Or at least I think we saw it today. There are a lot of ruins at the Forum. In the building—which is still in good shape today—the consuls and tribunes made decisions about running the republic and the empire. Lorenzo tells her the building underwent extensive reconstruction efforts in the 1930s.
“Did they also work on the basilica beside it?” she asks.
Noah shifts in his seat, looking out into the crowd for a waiter.
It’s clear Lorenzo and Gabriella have a lot in common with their mutual love of history. It’s not a boring subject to discuss or anything, but I’m concerned they seem to have forgotten about our main objective here: food.
Right now, I have the patience of a toddler and the hunger of a lion.
“You know what, guys? Why don’t I just go to the bar and order? It’ll be faster, I bet.”
I’m already on the move, scooting out of the booth and practically falling into Noah’s lap, and then he stands and, in an interesting turn of events, volunteers to come with me.
I don’t bother arguing with him in front of Lorenzo and Gabriella. They wouldn’t understand.
We start to head for the bar.
“Are you coming because you’re worried I’ll poison your food? No need. I still respect the No Tampering with Food truce we struck after the ill-fated School Bake Sale Incident of 2019. And besides, this dress doesn’t have any pockets for Ex-Lax tablets.”
I pat my hips for emphasis.
His gaze immediately sweeps down to me as if he was waiting for another excuse to take a look at me in my dress. Either the low light in the bar is playing tricks on me or his eyes really are that heated.