too,” she said, finishing the wine in her glass.
I flagged Lara down, and we ordered cocktails—a dirty vodka martini for Bianca, and bourbon on the rocks for me. Once she’d brought them, I took a sip and studied the woman across from me. Was it the wine, or was she even cuter than the last time I’d seen her?
She had skin so fair she practically glowed in the dark, bright red hair that skimmed her shoulders and glinted with gold in the candlelight, blue eyes that never missed a trick behind black-framed glasses, and a wide, lush mouth painted fire-engine red. Her nose and ears were small—actually everything about her was small, and if I remembered correctly, she hated being teased about it.
“What?” she said, growing self-conscious under my stare. She touched her hair. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“I’m wondering what your parents fed you that stunted your growth.”
Her crimson lips pursed and she sat up taller. “I am average height, thank you very much.”
“Average for what, a chipmunk?”
She took a sip of her martini and clucked her tongue. “Always so obsessed with size. What are we to make of that, Dr. Freud? Is he worried he doesn’t measure up?”
“Hey, that was you who started the rumor about the size of my—my stuff,” I said angrily, puffing out my chest. “Totally unfounded, I might add.”
“Okay, okay.” She set her glass down and held up her palms. “It’s time for me to apologize for that.”
“I’m not sure I accept,” I said stubbornly. “You can’t insult a guy’s manhood like that—without even seeing it—and just expect him to say it’s no big deal. You besmirched the family jewels.”
Laughing, she tucked her hair back behind one ear. “I’m truly sorry for what I said, and I shall never besmirch your jewels again.”
“Why’d you do that anyway?”
She picked up her glass again and took a dainty sip. “To get back at you for asking every girl to dance but me, of course.”
“What?” I snorted. “That’s ridiculous. You didn’t want to dance with me.”
“How do you know? You never asked.”
“Bianca, you brought a fucking book with you and read it the entire time.”
She clutched at her chest. “Twilight isn’t just a book to me, Enzo. It’s a whole world. I still reread it every year.”
“Twilight? Isn’t that about a teenage vampire?”
“At least that vampire was a gentleman.”
I rolled my eyes. “Whatever. You refused to even talk to me, and I was bored, so I asked some other girls to dance. I didn’t think it was a big deal.”
“Well, it hurt my feelings,” she said, pointing her pert little nose at me. “I was already aware you didn’t want to be there—I knew your parents made you take me. And I felt horrible about it, so I copped the bad attitude to hide my humiliation.”
“Well, I didn’t know any of that, because you never said anything. But I’m . . . I’m sorry I hurt your feelings.”
“Your apology is accepted,” she said. “Now are you going to accept mine?”
“I guess,” I grumbled, taking another drink.
She lit up with a smile. “Thank you. So can we be friends now?”
“I suppose we can try,” I said, “although I still don’t understand why you were so stuck-up back then, always too good to talk to me.”
“I wasn’t stuck-up, Enzo, I was shy!” she exclaimed, like I should have known. “And you were always surrounded by girls batting their lashes and tossing their long blond hair and giggling like idiots at everything you said. Just because I wasn’t one of them doesn’t mean I thought I was too good for you. Frankly, I’m shocked you even remember me from back then. It’s not like you ever noticed when I was in the room, what with your ego taking up all the space around you.”
“Okay, maybe we should leave the past alone,” I said, remembering why I didn’t like her much. “Clearly, we are always going to disagree.”
“Fine with me.” She pulled the pick from her martini and ate one of the olives from it. “So how’s your ego tonight? A little bruised, huh?”
“It’s fine,” I said, tightening the knot in my tie. “Reina obviously wasn’t the right choice for a wife. I’m glad she said no.”
Bianca started to choke on her olive. “Wait a minute.” She fanned her face and managed to swallow. “You proposed to—to—what was the little girl’s name?”
“Reina. And you’ve got no room to call someone little, Tiny.”
As I’d hoped, the old nickname drew