I winked at Gabi with a smirk. “So I’ve been called.”
“Who’s the poet?” someone asked as Gabi gave me the usual—cute—eye roll.
“Ribka Sibhatu. Originally from Eritrea. Been living in Italy since the nineties. A true feminist and a beautiful poet.”
“Wow. Easy on the eyes and reads poetry by feminist women of color. He’s a keeper, Gabi,” another lady said.
I feigned anoh please, stop it, not taking my eyes off my beautiful date. “Would you keep me, babe?” I said it to amuse the audience, but I wanted to know if it was possible. Now that she knew I could win a conversation in her realm and charm her peers, would she look at me differently? Would she see beyond the poles and the thongs?
Nervous, she didn’t answer me, her phantom of a smile vanished.
“She must. She’d be insane if she didn’t,” Nora said.
I gave the poet a smile she’d be talking to her girlfriends about for weeks. “I’m sure I’ll love your work if I get a chance to read it. What would you recommend I start with?”
She pressed long, manicured fingers to her chest. “Aw, thank you so much. I’d suggest you start with Blossoms of Light and Darkness. It has all the personal favorites I’ve ever written so far. I’ll send you a copy to Gabi’s office.”
“That’s very generous,” I said.
She waved an exaggerated dismissal. “Anything for you, dear.” Then she bent and whispered something in Gabi’s ear with a familiar pat on the shoulder. I hoped to God she didn’t say something as awful and stupid as Gabi’s other colleague did.
Before I got to ask Gabi about it, the lights dimmed again, and one of the organizers announced it was time to dance.
I didn’t know there was going to be dancing. It was an amazing opportunity to get Gabi away from all these people so we could finally talk in private. About the kiss I’d never forget.
I put on my mask as the organizer said it was mandatory for the dance and asked Gabi to do the same.
“I’m not dancing, Fabio. Please just sit. We’re going to leave soon,” she said.
“Put your mask on. You’re dancing with me.” I wouldn’t take no for an answer. I couldn’t stand the wait or her running. “Unless you’re afraid you can’t match me?”
“Oh, IknowI can.”
“I don’t believe you.” I stretched a hand toward her. “You have to prove it.”
She shook her head, but when she saw that Fletcher cazzone walking her way, she yanked the mask out of her purse and dragged me to the dance floor before he reached us.
For the first time, I was thankful to the asshole. Come to think of it, I wouldn’t have been here tonight with her if it hadn’t been for the awful shit he’d said to her or the stinky rivalry they had.
That irritated me more than it should have. The fact that Gabi would have never looked at me twice if she hadn’t been in a pickle made me want to do things that never crossed my mind before. Things people like me couldn’t afford to dream about, let alone do.
How was it that one person you didn’t even know could make you want to change your whole life around?
I wondered if she were a witch in disguise that had cast a spell on me as much as I wondered how her body would bend and squirm under me, and how the most incredible eyes would roll back as she screamed my name in bliss.
The song was a slow Tango. My favorite.Talk about simmering sexual tension…
“I’ll let you lead,” I said.
“How magnanimous of you toletme lead. No, Fabio, please. You lead. I don’t want you to say you couldn’t keep up because of my leading or any bullshit excuse men come up with when a woman tops them.”
“I’d let you top me any time, lady Brighton.”
“I thought we agreed—”
I put my hand on her back and tugged her close to me, and she gasped. “Just dance,Gabriella.”
We both started slow. As we learned each other’s speed, I upped the pace, and she kept up with ease. I circled around her, following the rhythm of the song, of her breathing, of my heart. “You know the feeling when you read a book and you love it so much you wish you could read it again for the first time?”
