Chapter 11 Sophia
I opt for knocking on Aria’s door this time. As I wait for the door to open, I run my fingers through my hair, smoothing it out to keep it looking casually perfect. I don’t know why I’m so nervous. This is just a regular dinner with a couple of friends, nothing to be excited about.
Maybe because you’re going to see a certain man with a set of brown eyes you haven’t stopped thinking about. The one you almost kissed, even though you told yourself you weren’t going to engage in those types of activities. Remember?
Oh, right. Ha . Like I could ever forget.
Aria opens the door and greets me with a hug. “Hey, girl.” She takes a step back and looks at me from top to bottom. “Interesting outfit. Looking to impress someone?”
I shoot her a glare, handing her the bottle of wine. “Yes. Myself .”
She squints at me, humming unconvinced. “If you say so.”
As I walk into the apartment, I head straight for the kitchen, drawn to the charcuterie board that’s spread out with my favorite cheese and multigrain crackers. I grab a cracker, scoop up a generous portion of that delicious, garlicky cheese with the knife, and slather it on.
Am I focusing on the food spread instead of the people around me? Yep .
Isabella approaches me. “Oh, thank God you’re here.”
I look up to see her annoyed face. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m the reason for this sunshine humor of hers,” a man says, walking into the kitchen. “Matteo Carter, nice to meet you, love.” He gives me a boyish smile.
“Oh, the famous Matteo. I’ve heard so much about you,” I say with a grin, wiggling my eyebrows and waving. “Sophia Evans, lovely to meet you.”
Matteo laughs, taking a sip of his beer. “You’ve been talking about me, Isa?”
“If you count me telling her how insufferable you are, then yes, I’ve been talking about you,” Isabella replies in a dry tone.
Even though Isabella spat an insult his way, Matteo’s smile doesn’t falter. I’ve heard Damian and Isabella say how Matteo is always smiling or joking, always the life of the party, and I can see what they mean. Funny, though, how that bright smile of his doesn’t reach his eyes.
Matteo shrugs. “Whatever you say, Isa.”
“Only friends get to call me Isa, and you lost that privilege a long time ago,” Isabella replies before storming away.
Yikes . I guess Aria wasn’t exaggerating when she told me chaos follows whenever they are in the same room. I step backward, inching out of the kitchen to dodge any chance of conversation and giving him an awkward little wave as I go. I turn around and bump into someone’s chest with a loud thud .
“Watch where you’re going, Blue.”
My back stiffens at the sound of Lorenzo’s voice. The way he speaks, always with that light, flirtatious tone and the way his words drip like honey sends a shiver down my spine.
“Lorenzo,” I say curtly.
“Blue,” he repeats my new, dumb nickname he came up with.
I weigh my options for a moment. I can either go back to the kitchen and strike up a conversation with Mr. Sunshine, or stay here and spar with Mr. Playboy.
Boy, my options sure are looking grim.
But see, at least Mr. Sunshine over there doesn’t infuriate me, nor does he make me feel things I’d rather not entertain.
Yup. Mr. Sunshine it is.
As I’m turning around to walk back into the kitchen, Lorenzo grabs me by the arm. The touch is brief and innocent, but it doesn’t make it burn any less.
I get out of his grip. “I’d rather you not touch me.”
“Is my touch taking you down memory lane?” he asks with a lighthearted tone, mischief dancing in his eyes.
I blink at him in astonishment. “You’re breaking our deal with that comment.”
His shoulders shake as he lets out a soft, velvety laugh that goes straight to my core, my body betraying me, yet again.
“Funny you say that,” he comments.
I’m fairly shorter than him, even with my four-inch heels, so he has to lean down for his lips to hover just beside my ear. The way his warm breath hits my earlobe takes me back to that night. His woodsmoke cologne envelops me as I’m trying to mentally kick those memories away from me. The smell of pine and cedar hits me first. Such a rich, earthy aroma, like the comforting embrace of a roaring fire. It’s faintly sweet, too, with a hint of burning maple. The scent perfectly suits him—strong, manly, dangerous, and surprisingly sweet.
“Rule number one about making a deal? Make sure the other party agrees. Otherwise, it’s all fair game, Bella . ? 1 ” His voice, barely above a whisper, is deep and husky.
He straightens, locking his light-brown eyes with mine, and winks before walking away and leaving me there standing feeling flustered.
Now that we’re all here, we quickly sit to have dinner. It’s nice, a lot of chatter and laughter, mostly from Matteo and Lorenzo trying to get a rise out of Damian. Isabella, well, she’s her dark, cloudy self we all love, and Aria is the sweetheart of the group, but jokes from time to time with the guys to get a reaction out of Damian, too.
“Red, you know, I’ve been wondering how you can be with my cugino? 2 ,” Lorenzo starts, trying to contain his laughter before he continues with the taunt. “You gotta tell me, is he that good in bed? That’s gotta be it.” Lorenzo shakes his head.
Damian fixes him with a glare sharp enough to cut. “You think you’re so hilarious, huh?”
Matteo points at Aria with the mouth of his beer bottle, raising an eyebrow. “Care to confirm?”
“I can confirm Damian is a very passionate and thoughtful lover,” Aria says in between fits of laughter, trying to catch her breath.
“Oh my God, Damie !” I chime in with a playful tone. “I’m so happy to hear my best friend is well taken care of.”
The whole table is laughing now, except for Damian, who’s as red as a tomato, but still has that broody, grumpy aura of his.
“You promised you wouldn’t tell anyone about that nickname!” Damian exclaims, looking at Aria in disbelief.
Aria lifts her hands in surrender. “I’m sorry!” She grabs the black linen napkin from the table and throws it at me. “You are such a blabbermouth.”
A loud laugh escapes my lips as my eyes fill with tears from all the laughing. As I’m trying to calm myself down, a small snort slips out between laughs. I haven’t laughed like this in a while, and it’s a welcoming feeling with everything that has been going on lately.
“ That’ll do, piggy. That’ll do ,” Lorenzo says with a laugh.
I lock my eyes with him in shock as the rest of the group groans in unison.
“You have to stop it with the quotes that no one gets,” Matteo groans.
“I cannot believe we have another one in our group. Kill me now. Put me out of my misery,” Isabella complains.
“Did you just quote Babe to me?” I ask.
Lorenzo frowns. “Yeah, why?” Then he looks at Isabella. “And what do you mean by that?”
“You’d be happy to know Sophia loves to quote famous movies and TV shows from the ’90s,” Aria chimes in. “It’s kind of her most annoying quirk.”
Her comment makes me falter for a moment, but I force a laugh instead. I know I have some annoying quirks, and my friends love me despite them, but the wound always opens the tiniest bit when someone points out things like that. And I know Aria doesn’t mean any harm, it’s not like I’ve spoken to her about it. This is how we work. I’m always the butt of the joke .
I look at her, faking disappointment. “ You’re killing me, smalls. ”
Lorenzo chuckles, nodding. “ The Sandlot. Nice choice.”
“It’s like you guys are meant to be,” Damian chimes in, looking rather smugly at Lorenzo.
We both glare at him at the same time and say, “Please.”
The rest of the group starts laughing as our gazes lock and we study each other. I’ll be damned if what Aria said is true. Me being the female version of him? Not in a million years. This is a simple dumb coincidence.
“Okay, okay,” Aria says, standing with her glass of wine. “Enough with the jokes. I have something I want to say. I’m so glad you all could make it here today. Means the world to me, guys, really.” She lifts her glass. “To friendship.”
We all smile as we pick up our drinks and toast.
Damian clears his throat with a small, deliberate cough. “We also wanted to let you all know we’ve decided to have the bachelor and bachelorette parties together. So, we will be going to Las Vegas at the end of August as a group. We’re aware we don’t even have a wedding date yet, but our schedules will get busier during the fall, so it makes sense.” He shrugs.
Isabella chokes on her wine at the announcement, and Matteo’s back stiffens. He glances at Isabella for the briefest moment before dropping his eyes to his drink, suddenly becoming very interested in the beer he’s holding. I can feel Lorenzo’s eyes burning into me, but if there’s one thing I refuse to show, it’s weakness—or how much I enjoy him not being able to take his eyes off me more than I’d care to admit.
“Everybody’s cool with it, right ?” Damian asks, his pointed look making it clear we don’t have any other option but to agree .
We all nod and smile, and Aria’s face lights up. I would do anything to make my best friend happy, even if it means spending more time than necessary with Lorenzo.
I tap Matteo’s shoulder, leaning forward with my elbows on the table and my chin resting on my thumbs. “So, I hear you have a cyber company?”
He smiles charmingly. “I do. Built it from the ground up when I graduated from MIT.”
“You and Isabella attended MIT at the same time, right?”
He nods, tensing a little at the mention of Isabella, who’s sitting in front of him, silently watching our interaction.
“Yes. Totally built it from the ground up and abandoned people he claimed to care about in the process,” Isabella remarks, abruptly standing and throwing her linen napkin on her empty plate. “I can’t do this anymore,” she mutters, grabbing her purse. “Thank you for a lovely dinner, guys,” she says in a clipped tone then storms away.
“I’ll walk you out,” Aria says quickly, standing and following after Isabella.
Matteo’s demeanor crumbles, his sunny personality nowhere in sight as he quietly gets up and picks his suit jacket from the back of his chair and puts it on. “I’d better get going, too. Long day tomorrow.”
Damian gives Lorenzo a knowing look before standing and walking Matteo out.
I rise from my seat, silently gathering the empty plates and cups, the tension still heavy in the air. I head to the kitchen to start washing the dishes. Even though summer is starting, I get cold easily, so I decided to wear long sleeves today. I roll them up then take the hair tie from my wrist and put my hair in a messy bun.
From my peripheral vision, I see Lorenzo striding into the kitchen with the rest of the dishes. He drops them on the sink then rolls up his dress shirt sleeves. My eyes shamelessly follow his movements, admiring the way his veins trace intricate patterns beneath his skin, accentuating the muscles beneath. Small, random tattoos that I’m sure have some sort of meaning behind them adorn his tanned skin.
He lifts his gaze and catches me staring but doesn’t say anything. Instead, he smiles knowingly. I straighten my shoulders and look at the sink, becoming very interested in the soapy, dirty water.
I haven’t forgotten about our moment the other night. It’s all I’ve managed to think about. I’ve been wondering what would have happened if we had kissed. Chances are, we would have ended up in my apartment. And that would have honestly been a huge mistake. But I think it’s pretty safe to say, when it comes to men, I don’t make the smartest decisions.
He approaches me and takes the sponge from my hands. “I’ll wash and you dry. Okay?”
I lock my gaze with his, and God, I wish I hadn’t. His eyes are so intense and warm at the same time. His right eyebrow has the tiniest scar, barely noticeable unless you really look for it.
I clear my throat and grab a clean drying towel. “Sure.”
We quickly fall into silence as we work on the dishes. But here’s the thing about me: I don’t do well with silence. Chalk it up to my childhood, I guess. My house was loud, mostly with my father’s drunken screams. When there was silence at home, it was never a good thing. Something bad would always inevitably happen. I associate silence with danger, and it settles a dread in the pit of my stomach. I know my friends consider me loud, and some people who don’t know me well even find me obnoxious, but I can’t possibly stay quiet or bear silence .
“That was intense.” I nod toward the dining room.
“That was nothing, trust me,” Lorenzo asserts, his voice laced with conviction.
“What’s the story between them, anyway?”
Lorenzo lets out a long sigh. “It’s not my story to tell. I’m sure Isabella will tell you when she’s ready.”
I nod, even though I would love for someone to clue me in on what the hell is happening. That’s another thing about me—I don’t do well with altercations. I always go into problem-solving mode. My brain is wired to automatically search for a way to make the situation right. With my upbringing, I was kind of forced to do so.
Lorenzo drops the sponge on the sink as he turns to face me, casually leaning against the counter. “So, when do you start drilling me with all your journalist-type questions?”
I scoff. “No one is forcing you to do this. You’re the one that wanted to do it.”
He raises an eyebrow, the one with the tiny scar, a soft smile playing on his lips. “Never said it was going to be easy.”
Even though the smile is small, his dimple manages to make an appearance, and something in me wants to reach out and trace it with my fingertip. Instead, I slam the door on that thought before it goes any further.
“Never expected that, anyway.” I shrug. “How about we meet tomorrow?”
“It’s a date.”
“It’s not a date,” I correct, dropping the towel on the kitchen counter and mirroring his pose, crossing my arms. “It’s a business meeting.”
He smirks, standing tall and closing the gap between us. He sure loves to get close to me at the most untimely moments. His intoxicating scent envelops me once again, and I lift my chin slightly, trying to maintain my composure, hoping he doesn’t notice how my chest heaves. I refuse to take a step back. He started this, so he’s the one who has to finish it. Backing down isn’t an option, even though my body itches to reach out and touch him.
He brushes his knuckles against my cheek for a brief moment, giving me a quick chill. “Whatever you say, Blue.”
Okay, then.
This will be fine. Totally fine. I can do this.
You literally can’t.
Shut up, brain.
1 ? Beautiful.
2 ? Cousin.