a foreign language to him. But Gabriella had looked at him an hour earlier, before heading off to work, and said the magical phrase: I want to be your girlfriend.
And, well, like he'd said before, turning down a woman like her was impossible.
"A girlfriend, huh? Color me surprised. Always figured that word was too big for you, too complicated for you to ever figure out."
"Your cousin taught it to me."
"Is that right? Gotta be honest… I'm not sure if I want to congratulate you or punch you for that."
"You can congratulate me over dinner," Dante said. "I'll give you plenty of reasons to punch me later."
"I don't doubt it."
They went to the bar a few buildings down. Nothing special. Nothing unusual. Some place they both often visited on Saturday nights. Dante sat at an empty booth in the corner with Gavin across from him.
"Hey, guys," a waitress said, eyeing them curiously as she approached, carrying menus. "What can I get for you?"
"Heineken," Dante said, handing the menu right back when she set it down, not needing to look. "And a cheeseburger, rare, with everything on it."
She smiled, nodding, as she turned to Gavin.
"Roman Coke," he said. "And I'll just take the grilled avocado and chicken sandwich."
"Awesome, I'll have that right out."
"Avocado," Dante said when the waitress left. "Seriously?"
"It's good."
"It's fruit. On a sandwich."
"So is tomato."
"But tomato makes sense."
"Only because you're used to it," Gavin said. "You always question what's new. It's human nature. While everything else, you know, no matter how strange, feels normal because you're trained to see it that way. You're brainwashed."
"That sounds a lot like something the jackass in the lab coat at the hospital would say," Dante said. "I'm not here to be psychoanalyzed."
"Why are you here?"
"It was your idea," Dante pointed out. "You wanted to hang out, so here we are, hanging out like friends."
The waitress approached again, slipping their drinks in front of them before scurrying away. Dante picked his up, taking a sip of the beer.
"Friends," Gavin mused.
"Sorry, G, but like I said, I've got a girlfriend now. 'Friends' is all we can ever be."
"Funny," Gavin said. "Not long ago you were telling everyone you didn't have any friends."
"Yeah, well, don't take it personal. I spent a week being tortured in a basement and nobody even looked for me. That kind of shit makes you question things."
Gavin stared at him. "What makes you think nobody looked?"
Dante took another sip. "The fact that my father said they didn't bother to look because there was 'no point'."
Something flashed across Gavin's face then, something that looked way too much like pity. Dante swallowed more of his beer, trying to dull the swell of shame that caused.
"I hate to break it to you, because you seem to be happy settling into this 'woe is me' persona, but we looked for you," Gavin said. "My family called for a meeting, trying to get information out of Barsanti about where he might've dumped you. We thought you were dead, yeah, but we looked. My father wasn't going to rest until you returned."
"Seriously?"
"Seriously," Gavin said. "Even Matty-B dug around. Barsanti was preoccupied with Enzo's funeral arrangements, but Matty wanted to make it so Genna could bury her brother, too. She took it all pretty damn hard."
Dante was quiet for a moment, his gaze on his beer bottle as he mulled over those words. "The whole time I was in that basement, I kept thinking about her. Seven o'clock. I was supposed to pick her up at seven o'clock. And I just kept hoping, you know, that she made it home all right. They tortured me, but I didn't care. I knew I wasn't making it out of there. I figured they'd get tired and end it, but still, I wondered, did she fucking make it?"
Weight pressed on Dante's chest. The air felt heavy as he breathed it in. He guzzled his beer, trying to wash down the lump in his throat.
"Come on, you knew she did," Gavin said. "The Ice Princess was resilient. She probably learned that shit from you."
"I tried to tell myself that," Dante said. "I know she made it home that night, and the next night, and a few nights after that, but a lot of good that was, because she's not home now. I was supposed to die. I should be dead. And I can't help feeling like something got fucked up and we somehow switched places. Why am I home and she isn't?"