“A what?”
“A dragon. With fire. And quads.”
I snorted before I could stop myself. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Thank you. It’s one of my better qualities.”
Our garlic knots arrived—glossy with butter, steaming—and Emily tore one in half and shoved it into my hand. “Eat. Champions need carbs.”
I took a bite. “These are good.”
“I love this place... or this palace. Get it?” She laughed at her own joke and I smirked while I grabbed another knot and dunked it in marinara sauce.
We talked, or she talked and I tried to keep up:
Her psych professor had tripped over a backpack today and cursed in front of class.
One of her friends got asked out at the smoothie bar by a guy who used the line “our hearts could blend.”
Her sister wanted to visit campus next month because “it feels like Liam is doing big things.”
Carlo returned with the plates the way a magician reveals the finale of a show—with drama, volume, and zero awareness of personal space.
He balanced two enormous bowls on one arm, steam curling upward like incense at a shrine dedicated to carbs. As he reached our table, he burst into song, full volume, full commitment:
“When the moon hits your eye like a big-a pizza pie, that’s amore—!”
Emily froze with her water glass halfway to her mouth. I choked on a breath I didn’t mean to inhale.
Carlo kept going. “When the stars make you drool just-a like pasta fazool—“ He twirled one of the plates with a flourish. “That’s amore!”
Then he placed Emily’s dish in front of her with a slow, theatrical bow.
“And for the lovely lady, extra meatballs! Just like she requested,” he said with an aggressive wink.
Emily went scarlet. “Oh—thank you.”
He placed my bowl in front of me with less fanfare, then gave the table a tap like he was blessing it.
“You two enjoy,” he said, finger-guns blazing. “And remember—!”
He paused, and we waited. Just then, a family a few booths down waved him over.
“Duty calls!” He said and spun away.
Emily exhaled all at once. “That... was exhausting.”
“He’s committed,” I said.
She stabbed a meatball with her fork. “He’s possessed.”
Emily took a bite, eyes widening. “Holy—this is so good. Okay. I forgive everything. I forgive the singing. I forgive the winking.”
I twirled some spaghetti around my fork, took a bite, and felt the warmth spread down my chest in a way that made my shoulders drop for the first time all day.
“Yeah,” I said as the buttery tomato sauce hit. “Yeah, okay. This was worth the weird.”
Emily grinned. “Told you.”
