Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 110624 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 553(@200wpm)___ 442(@250wpm)___ 369(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 110624 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 553(@200wpm)___ 442(@250wpm)___ 369(@300wpm)
“Hey, Alistair.”
“Hey, Nina. Wow. You look…awesome,” he said as he approached me and kissed my cheek.
Tarah nudged me and said, “Why, thank you, Alistair.”
“Thanks. It’s all her doing,” I said pointing to Tarah.
His head moved side to side slowly as he took in my appearance. “Well, you were beautiful before, but…man, I’m just…speechless.”
Laughing, I said, “That was my reaction too.”
The front door opened and Ryan walked in. Tarah immediately ran over to give him a hug. “Hey, baby.”
“Hey,” he said kissing her forehead before looking over at Alistair and me. “Troll…damn, you look nice.”
Alistair turned to me. “Troll?”
“It’s a long story.”
Ryan walked over to Alistair holding out his hand. “I’m Ryan. Nina and I grew up together.”
They shook hands, and there was an awkward silence among the four of us for a few seconds.
“Where are you guys headed?” Ryan asked.
I looked at Alistair for guidance, and he said, “That new Italian place near the university. It’s called Porcello’s. It’s supposed to be really good.” He turned to me. “If that’s okay? I didn’t even think to ask where you might like to go.”
“She’s always wanted to go to Top of the Rock,” a raspy voice said from behind us.
Shit.
I turned around to see Jake standing there. He stared me down hard and continued, “Right, Nina? You love a good view from the top of a skyscraper. I hear the scenery is amazing, and the food is great.”
“That’s the one on top of the GE building in the city?” Alistair asked.
“We can save that for another time. I was really looking forward to that Italian place,” I said glaring at Jake who had an intimidating look on his face and seemed to be sizing up Alistair.
Jake extended his tattooed arm toward Alistair. “We haven’t met. I’m Jake.” He was smiling, but it was angry and disingenuous.
They shook hands and I noted the stark contrast between Jake’s defined marked arm and Alistair’s, which was bare with light blonde hairs.
“I’m Alistair.”
“Ass Hair?” Jake’s expression was calculating.
Kill me now.
Looking none the bit amused, Alistair said, “No…Ali-stair.”
“Ah…sorry, my bad,” Jake said as he looked over at me.
Fuming was not harsh enough of a word to describe how I was feeling toward him.
I was still glaring at Jake when I said, “Alistair, I think we should get going.”
“After you,” he said, gesturing for me to walk in front of him. Ignoring Jake, he then looked over at Tarah and Ryan. “It was nice meeting you guys.”
“Likewise. You kids have fun!” Tarah said.
Jake’s eyes were piercing mine and the rims of his ears were red. When Alistair and I got to the doorway, I turned around one last time to find Jake’s gaze still fixed on me. He wasn’t saying anything, but in that moment, the look on his face was different. This time, there was no sarcasm, no anger. He just looked…hurt…like he didn’t want me to leave. Then, he silently mouthed, “Bye,” before turning away.
He had been a total bastard, but God help me, I would have dropped everything for him tonight if he had just asked me to.
The restaurant was several blocks away. On the walk, Alistair and I got to know each other, talking about school and our favorite types of music and hobbies. I discovered that we both really liked Radiohead, The Killers and Coldplay. He grew up in Connecticut, not far from the city and seemed to have had a privileged life, which was a direct contrast to my modest upbringing in the sticks of upstate New York.
Midway through our walk, he grabbed my hand. While I didn’t mind, I couldn’t help but notice that my body had little to no reaction upon touching his skin. I thought back to when Jake stood in the stairwell during our subway trip and reached out his arm for me to grab. I remembered how amazing it felt when I held his hand for the first time and when our fingers intertwined. There was no comparison and it was irking me right now.
Stop thinking about Jake.
We had a reservation, so they seated us as soon as we arrived at Porcello’s. The restaurant was beautiful with dim lighting, candlelit tables and pictures on the walls of famous patrons. That song Mambo Italiano played in the background.
Maddie, our waitress, poured two glasses of water and read the specials at warp speed before we each ordered a class of cabernet sauvignon.
“They’re supposed to have the best Penne a la Vodka,” Alistair said.
Vodka. That’s all I took from that.
“Mmm. I was thinking of the Shrimp Scampi. I wonder if I can get that without the Scampi?”
Alistair put down his water and covered his face in laughter. “Nina…you don’t get out to eat much do you?”
“What do you mean?”
“There is no such thing as Scampi. Shrimp Scampi is shrimp with pasta in like a garlic and olive oil sauce. So, Scampi is just the name of the dish. It’s like—”