Miles took a big bite of the shrimp, followed by an even bigger one of the fish.
I swallowed and shook my head, taking him in as he inhaled his meal. “I can see why you need kombucha now,” I teased, making him halt his fork halfway to his mouth.
He set it down with a plop, causing my eyebrows to rise in amusement. The movement and our closeness offered me a better view of histattoo. Up close, I could see musical notes and strange markings woven into an open book.
“Are you making fun of my eating habits now?” he asked, leaning down once again to look at my face.
I nudged him playfully with my elbow. “You Americans eat like you’re being chased, that's all. I can see why you need digestive aids.”
He scoffed and answered, “Yes, I remember my Italian grandparents taking hours to eat Sunday lunch when I was a kid. Guess I was always in a hurry to get more than Luke.”
“Somehow I doubt there was ever a chance of your grandmother running out of food if she was Italian,” I countered, taking another slow bite.
“Okay, okay, I see your point. You’re right. She sent us home with pans of food,” he said with a chuckle. He slowed down a bit, putting his fork down after every two bites.
“I’m guessing your coffee cup is as big as a serving bowl, too.” I raised one eyebrow at him as a slow smile spread across his handsome face. He nodded, and a chuckle escaped him in a huff.
“And I guess you drink those tiny cups of espresso straight, with no creamer, then?” When I nodded proudly, my back straightening, he added, “Savage.”
My laugh burst out of me, causing me to choke. Miles tapped my back firmly, trying to say something, but he was laughing too hard to understand.
When I caught my breath and swallowed hard, I said with confidence, “Yes. As one should. You can’t possibly convince me that a five-hundred-plus gram drink filled with syrup-sweetened milk is actually coffee. Half caf, soy foam, pumpkin pie spice. Utter nonsense.” I shivered for effect.
“Now, listen here. I love coffee, and no, Idon’tdrink it out of a bowl,” he said emphatically, until both our eyes landed on an empty cup the size of a small bowl on the counter across from us. It said “world’s greatest dad” on it. My eyes narrowed as he looked away.
“Ofcourseyou don’t. And I’m sure you eat a huge breakfast to go with that bowl, I mean, cup of coffee.”
He looked at me, pretending to be offended as he clutched his chest and said, “Hey, hey, don’t knock the breakfast burrito. It’s the perfect combo of carbs, fats, and protein.”
“MJ might’ve mentioned it,” I said with a smirk.
Our easy conversation continued throughout our meal, comparing the American and Italian lifestyles as if we had known each other for years, teasing and laughing along the way.
“And another thing. Why do Italians feel the need to dress up like they’re going to a fashion show every day, huh? A hoodie, board shorts, and a baseball cap are all you need here in SoCal.” He said this as he picked up our plates, my mind drifting to the picture I’d seen of him dressed exactly that way on IG. A happy sigh slipped out of me before I could stop it.
Miles looked at me, his head cocked, his lips pursed to the side holding in a smirk.
“I take it you concur, Ms. Lazzara.” I wanted to either smack or kiss that smirk off his face.
Without thinking too hard, I yelled out, “Pivot, pivot, pivot.” He chuckled at my reference to aFriendsepisode as he set the plates down in the sink. My cheeks hurt from smiling. Miles was so easy to talk to, and we hadn’t stopped laughing all evening. I had a moment where I felt conflicted after my conversation with Anna, but it flitted away like a paper bag in a hurricane. Besides, we were just getting to know each other as friends.
Right?
“I love that episode. Luckily the delivery guys didn’t have the same problem when they came with our sofa. But you won’t get off that easily. I see that blush, Ms. Lazzara,” he said, pointing at me and pulling me back into the conversation. “So you like that look, I take it. Seen many Cali guys on the beach like that, have you?”
His teasing made me blush even deeper, my face feeling like I was near a furnace.
“No comment,” I whispered, dipping my head as I stood up.
Yeah, Anna definitely wouldn’t like the way this conversation was going.
He waved me away when I tried to help with the dishes, so I started closing up containers and throwing away the empty ones.
“I don’t know how I feel about you looking at guys on the beach.”
I couldn’t tell if he meant it as a joke or not since he was facing away from me.
“Haven’t had time for the beach yet. Been too busy at work.”
