Expiration Dating (14 page)

Chapter Twenty One

             
Roberto lived in a small, one bedroom flat in the middle of Via Venezia, the second busiest shopping street in all of Milan. His rent
must
have been expensive, which was another sign he was doing well in his career. Most Italian men lived with their mothers until well into their thirties. They’d move out only when getting married.

He was quite a find.

Roberto showed me around, apologizing for the nonexistent mess, and flicked on the TV. He asked out of courtesy if I minded leaving it on in the background, even though it was all in Italian.

             
I shook my head no, and he reached to get glasses out of the cupboard, urging me to relax on the couch. I did so, and politely accepted the small glass of wine he poured. We sat watching an Italian game show, sipping the warming liquid while snuggling together on the couch. He put his arm around me during the first commercial. By the second break, he had leaned over and kissed me.

It was a slow, sensual kiss, and his lips were as soft as they looked. His hands ran through my hair, and I felt myself getting warm. I set my glass on the table and shifted for better access.
He leaned me backwards, his hand running down the side of my ribcage, causing me to shudder with excitement. I leaned into him, pressing his lips to my neck.

Suddenly, he broke off and began pulling me towards the bedroom. I was jolted back to reality. I realized I was getting pul
led into a stranger’s bedroom, and I didn’t even know the man’s last name. I felt my cheeks blush as I put my hand on his arm and apologized, saying that it was getting pretty late and I had class in the morning.

He looked disappointed, but didn’t push the subject. He handed me my coat, which had been discarded on the sofa
after commercial number one. He kissed me on the cheek and offered to let me stay over if I wanted to go straight to class in the morning. I shook my head no, and continued shaking my head when he offered to pay a cab to take me home. I claimed I’d be fine on the metro, but that I had to hurry as it was nearing the last run of the night. I said goodbye and exited the flat, pausing against the closed door to gather my wits. After a moment or two, I adjusted my hair, tied my coat tighter, and headed for home.

             
Emilia’s light was on when I got back, and I slowly pushed her door open. I saw Emilia lying on her bed and Megan spread out on the couch in the corner of the room. They were both dozing peacefully, and I quietly shut the light off and closed the door. My story could wait until tomorrow.

             
Over breakfast in the dining room the following morning, I dished out the details of the previous evening. They were great listeners, applauding at the appropriate times, “ahh-ing” at others and nodding here and there. By the time I finished, I was back in dreamland, having relived the date. Megan asked when I’d be seeing him again to ‘continue what we started,’ and I said I wasn’t sure.

H
e’d told me he would follow up with me today. As I finished speaking, I looked down at my phone and saw an incoming message.

I read to the girls in an overly sensual voice, “Ciao,
Bella. See u soon. Today?”

             
“Absolutely.” Megan took the word right from my mouth.

Chapter
Twenty Two

In Italian class later that morning,
Andrew and I partnered up as usual.

             
We were supposed to be
practicing,
an exercise that often ended as a planning forum for our evening excursions.

             
“God, I know. It has been awhile. Wanna grab drinks tonight, catch up a little?” he asked.

             
“What, you want to hang now that your friend’s gone?” I tapped my foot against the chair leg. I was pleased to find that it didn’t bother me anymore. We were back to where we started, which is right where I wanted us to be.

             
“Yeah, she left last night.” He pressed his knuckles to his forehead, as if to mask his sheepish expression.

             
“I’m just messing with you,” I said.

             
“So how about tonight? I’m free after eight.”

             
“I actually can’t tonight,” I said.

             
“Ah, hot date?” The question sounded innocent enough, but I couldn’t keep the corners of my mouth from twitching; he wasn’t used to me having plans.

             
“Wouldn’t you like to know.”             

He let the subject stand, and we began practicing our Italian as the teacher came around. We were improving slowly but surely, and it was still fun to practice in public.
Emilia joked I would be fluent by the end of the semester because of all the Italian men I was going out with. I’d always shrug and reply,
can’t argue if it works.

Andrew
, Megan, and I climbed the stairs after class, and as we rounded the corner Andrew grabbed my wrist. I shooed Megan on and remained standing with Andrew while the rest of our class drained.

             
“You free for lunch?” he asked.

             
“Sorry, I should probably head home. I’m not ditching you. I have somewhere to be,” I said. I couldn’t tell him where, because technically, I didn’t know.

             
Andrew looked into my eyes, “OK. Soon, though. Yeah?”

             
I nodded, “Tomorrow is good.”

             
I stood at the metro stop, impatient to head home when I got a follow up message from Roberto. He said to meet him near the high fashion shopping district in thirty minutes. It would take me at least twenty minutes to get home from where I stood. There was no time to change, so I figured my jeans and tank would have to do for today. I hiked my oversize purse higher onto my shoulder, wishing backpacks were more widely accepted here, and ran back up the stairs of the station. I got to our meeting point five minutes early and settled in to wait.

             
Two minutes later, I spotted him a few blocks down, fixing his hair in a shop window. He had attempted to dress down today, but I was positive his plain brown tee shirt cost more than my entire ensemble put together. It matched his beautiful, deep brown skin tone and brought out those sea green eyes that were so mesmerizing. They were an unexpected pop of color in an otherwise tanned complexion.

He caught my
eye a few strides away, and I was reminded of the pull of his eyes; he had a way of looking at you that demanded your attention. When you spoke, it felt as if he was dissecting your words. Almost eerie, the intensity had made me uncomfortable at first. I was used to it by now and enjoyed the undivided attention. People stared as we walked down the streets – we were an unusually tall pair, and he was obviously quite good looking.

             
He caught up to me, and after the formal exchange of cheek kisses and chit chat, he declared he wanted to show me the true side of the shopping center. It wasn’t clear what he meant, until we arrived at the door to the famous Gucci store. He pulled the door handle open.

I was shocked. These were the stores you needed an appointment to get in
to.

My
mind was blown as he walked right up to the sales lady, and asked what she had for someone like me.
Me.
In Gucci! In Milan, to boot! I almost wanted to ask for a picture near the sign, but I realized before whipping out my camera, that would be considered pretty tacky, especially in front of someone who had once modeled the clothes. I refrained, memorizing the sights, sounds and smells of the brand while she pulled a few things off the rack.

The store smelled slight
ly lemony, very fresh. I walked around the outskirts of the store, careful where I set my feet, noticing that the thick, spongy carpet muted the sounds of the customers. When my phone clicked against the metal clasp of my purse, I paused, glancing over my shoulder to see how fast I’d get kicked out. No one so much as turned a head; the salespeople must have been good at reading who the big spenders were, and since I clearly wasn’t one of them they could care less about what I did, so long as I didn’t break anything. Meanwhile, they showered Roberto with glasses of champagne and trays of mints.

Next thing I knew, he pointed at me, and the saleslady walked over with outstretched hands, entrusting me with
a few articles of clothing. I was unsure what was expected of me. First, I couldn’t afford them. No way in heck. I’d have to sell my plane ticket back to America to cover that Visa bill… not that it’d be all bad, now that I thought about it.

And second, I spilled on everything. I was afraid to even touch the clothes, let alone put them on.
With encouragement, however I agreed. My arm twisted mighty fast.

             
I walked out of the dressing room, and when I looked in the mirror I didn’t recognize the leggy girl in well fitting clothes. Roberto had outstanding taste; navy blue shorts sat perfectly on my hips in a way that would make them appropriate for work or play, and the fitted button down shirt was not only pristine, but lightweight and comfortable as well. Paired with flats, this outfit was perfect.

I almost cried knowing I couldn’t afford it. I basked in the
material for a few more moments before forfeiting the urge to run out of the store far, far away until they gave up trying to catch me and let me keep the clothes.

My mind wandered to
the hopelessness of the plan; who in their right mind would want to get armpit-stains on their brand new Gucci white button down? Not me. But maybe if I ran, let them catch me, got arrested, managed to keep the clothes on until I got to jail… I sighed.

There was no way I would get out of the store with these clothes. I changed back, thanked the lady, and headed out of the store
, seeing Roberto standing near the entrance.

After I got outside, I realized Roberto wasn’t following me anymore. I sat on the stoop and waited for him to find the door. When he emerged, I saw him holding a bag. I didn’t let myself thi
nk for a second that – maybe. Okay, I did think for a second.

Then,
I knew for a fact as he extended the bag to me. I didn’t even bother to look as I squealed and hugged him. As I began to protest how he shouldn’t have, I saw a familiar shock of hair out of the corner of my eye. I stepped back from Roberto, and he followed my gaze.

             
“You know this boy?” he asked.

             
“Yeah, I am in school with him.”

             
“We say hello?” he suggested.

             
“Okay,” I said, unsure if I wanted Andrew to see us or not. He noticed us at that moment, anyway, and it was too late to decide otherwise.

             
“Hey,” I said to Andrew.

             
“Hey, yourself,” he said with his eyes shifting towards Roberto. “Your
plans
?”
              “Hello, I am Roberto, Dana’s – how do you say – boyfriend?” Roberto said while putting his arm around my back and drawing me in. I was taken aback.

             
“Boyfriend?” I said turning to face him.

             
“You like?” he asked.

             
“We’re not…” I trailed off.

             
“It’s cool, I should be going anyways,” Andrew said. “Nice to see you.”

             
The rest of the afternoon with Roberto was pleasant, but I had a hard time fully enjoying it because seeing Andrew was such a damper. We ate a nice lunch, walked through more pricey stores and shared a gelato outside of a beautiful museum. I was still slightly distracted. I made up an excuse to head home before dinner because I felt bad about not telling Andrew about Roberto earlier. I headed to his house to explain.

Chapter
Twenty Three

             
I knocked on the door and Cesare answered.

             
“Hey, is Andrew around?” I asked.

             
Cesare simply nodded and lumbered away, leaving the door gaping open. He didn’t once look up from the beer he was nursing. Poor guy’s stench had only increased from Day One and was now approaching the
unbearable
zone. I still didn’t understand how his roommates dealt with it.

             
I found Andrew in his room, streaming some TV episode on his computer. He looked up, seemed surprised I was there. He proceeded to watch the screen as if never interrupted.

             
“What are you doing here?” he asked, not sounding excited to see me.

             
“I wanted to talk to you.” I straightened my shoulders, not liking the pleading sound my voice had adopted. “I didn’t wanna wait until coffee tomorrow.”

             
“Good,” he said, shifting the laptop around, “because it turns out I have plans and can’t make it.”

             
“Andrew,” I said. “He doesn’t mean anything. I meant to tell you about it, but it’s new. We’re not dating; I’ve only been out to eat with him once. He’s just Italian and doesn’t understand the English meaning of
boyfriend
.”

             
“Why would I care, anyway?” Andrew asked.

             
“I don’t know, I just thought I owed it to tell you. We can talk about this stuff, right? You usually think these stories are funny. And
plus
you talk about your girlfriend all the time.”

             
“Ex, girlfriend,” Andrew snapped, his gaze focused on the wall above his computer.

             
“Sorry, ex,” I said. “Look, I just wanted to make sure we could stay friends. You’re really important to me – you’re like a piece of home and a best friend all wrapped up in one. It would be a lot harder to be here without you.”

             
Andrew looked up and relented. “Of course we’re still friends.”

             
Mission accomplished, I left Andrew engrossed in his show and went straight home this time. I was happy Andrew understood, and I was relieved this wouldn’t affect our friendship. I had been truthful about how important he was to me. Life was looking up again.

              The next week, I found myself enjoying a normal routine. Andrew and I reestablished our friendship over a few coffees and a couple more cribbage losses notched on my belt.

At the same time
, I went on a few more dates with Roberto. Andrew and I avoided the subject, though I was sure he knew where I went on the afternoons we didn’t spend together. Roberto and I were… progressing. We’d wander through cafés, window shop in the nicer areas of the city, and chat about the topic en vogue. He chatted more than I did; a lot more.

“Shoes, see, I like those, and those, and these…” Roberto continued to drone on. I found myself wondering why
the‘t’ in
those
sounded like a ‘z.’ Accents were funny things.

             
“Zoes – not so much. Zeez, yes…”

             
He’s still talking?

             
“Dana, you see zoes? Zoes shoes?”

             
“
Those
?” I asked with deliberate pronunciation.

             
“Yes, zoes. You upset with me?”

             
“No, no I’m sorry.” I hadn’t meant to be rude, but something inside me must have snapped. He’d been talking about shoes for three days and hadn’t once asked about my classes. Or anything for that matter.

             
“I guess I’m just tired,” I said. “
Zoes
look nice.”

             
I smiled and winked, hoping he caught that I wasn’t mocking him.

             
“But zoes…” He didn’t even notice. I glanced around at the shops, and he must have finally caught onto my lack of interest in his shoe narrative. He pointed to a small hut. “You would like a gelato?”

             
“Yes!”

             
We sat on a bench, sharing the gelato. I didn’t mind his commentary now that I had something much more important to focus on; keeping my gelato in a perfect cone shape would take some work, it was dripping like crazy.

             
“But zen if you stay here with me-”

             
“I can’t stay here, Roberto. I have a year of school left.”

             
“Yes, but I come visit you. I always want to see California. You know Hollywood and everything. Maybe we stop in Miami and party?” He nudged my arm.

             
“I’m from Minnesota.”

             
“Ah, where iz this?”

             
“Nowhere near Miami or Hollywood.”

             
“Ah.” He took a first lick of his cone. I couldn’t believe he was letting it drip on the ground.
Wasting perfect gelato
. I just knew he’d throw it away before he was all the way finished. I couldn’t stand that habit. If I was with Andrew and he tried to do that, I’d take it right out of his hand and eat it myself. Unfortunately, Roberto and I weren’t to that point in our relationship.

             
“Then we get married…”

             
“What?” Maybe we were closer than I thought, and I’d just missed the memo.

             
“You come back after school and we marry, you help me with zee shoes.”

             
I froze, oblivious to the chocolate gelato winding its way around my pinky, wondering when we had gone from moderately interested in one another to engaged as a couple.

I relaxed a bit, licking the err
ant hazelnut off my knuckle, as I realized he talked about every possibility as if it were a soon-to-be reality. After all, he’d told his mom about me after one meeting. I convinced myself to give him a break, chalking his fantasies up to his excitable imagination.

As I finished the gelato, I glanced
over, watching him examine his flawless nails. He was charming, polished, and successful – not to mention gorgeous, and there wasn’t much not to like. When I told him I wanted to take things slow, he told me he understood and didn’t
really
push me. He tried to sleep with me, but then again I would have been offended a tad if he didn’t.

We walked back to his apartment after I finished my gelato and he threw his away, and had one of our
steamy make-out sessions. After a lingering kiss, we lay flushed on his couch.

“L
ovemaking is a beautiful, natural thing between two people,” he said, staring past my eyes, through my skull.

“It’s still beautiful and natural after dating for awhile,” I explained in the same tone.

He left it at that, and we went on with our PG-13 make out sessions, quite enjoyable in my book.

“You know I’m going to be going on spring break for two weeks,” I said as I slid into my jacket. “I’m going to Malta and Sicily with some friends. Don’t worry,
it’s all girls trip.”

“Yes, yes, this is not a big deal. I leave tomorrow on a business trip for three weeks to Dubai.”

“Oh.” He kissed me on the cheek, and closed the door seconds after I stepped outside. I mumbled to no one. “Nice to know.”