Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 107803 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 539(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107803 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 539(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
I can feel the blush overtaking my face as I nod. "Yes."
The man smiles widely at the confirmation, grabbing my hand and pressing a kiss to the back of it. He rambles for a moment before turning to the hostess, spouting off something else. She nods, and he strides away.
The hostess grabs three menus, motioning for us to follow her. Melody looks at me with surprise, but I just shrug as the three of us are led straight to a table that's just being cleared off. I take a seat across from Melody and Paul as the hostess sets the menus down, smiling at me.
"Mr. Andretti said to send Vitale his regards," she says. "To ensure him he took good care of you."
"Uh, okay," I say. "I will."
Naz isn't here, he's nowhere in the vicinity, and yet his presence can still be felt.
She walks away, and I glance up, catching my friend's eyes. Melody looks dumbfounded. "How did you do that?"
"I didn't," I mumble, shaking my head. "Naz did."
We're catered to all through dinner, waited on fast and showered with extra food. A bottle of wine is brought to the table, despite none of us requesting it, no questions asked about anybody's age. Paul lavishes in the attention, but I can feel Melody's questioning looks cast my way.
When we're finished, Paul asks for a bill as Melody pulls out her wallet. I feel guilty, realizing she's the one paying for all of us. The waiter shakes his head, smiling as he starts clearing our plates. "The bill has already been taken care of."
Melody gapes at him. "By who?"
The waiter says the payer prefers to remain anonymous, but I'm not fooled. A smile tugs my lips as I swirl some of the wine around in my glass, drinking my last few drops. I know exactly who did it.
After we leave, I stall on the sidewalk near the entrance. "You guys go ahead. I have somewhere else to be."
Melody's brow furrows, and she starts to question me, but Paul throws his arm over her shoulder and pulls her away. "Cool. See you later."
Melody looks behind her, shouting she'll see me back at the room, as I pull out my phone and call a cab. It takes it a moment to show up, the ride to Naz's house only a few minutes. It takes every penny in my pocket to afford the fare. I stroll up to the front door, knocking. It's near dusk, his Mercedes parked in the driveway.
The door opens and he appears in front of me, his expression blank. He looks at me, his eyes shifting past me to the street as the cab pulls away, before he meets my eyes again. He's quiet for a moment, just staring at me, before he finally speaks. "You had dinner with another man. I'm hurt."
"Can't be too hurt," I say, "considering you paid the bill."
He smirks, not admitting or denying that, as he steps aside to motion for me to come in.
"I'm going to need a ride back to the city," I mumble, frowning, noting he's already out of his suit, wearing what I'd call pajamas, except I know he doesn't sleep in them… Naz sleeps naked. I hadn't exactly thought this thing out. "You know, whenever you get the chance, if you don't mind… it'll be a long walk otherwise."
"I'll take you in the morning."
"In the morning?"
"Yes," he says, reaching over and cupping my cheek, his voice playful as he adds, "You've got a dinner to pay me back for tonight."
"Disney World."
My footsteps falter on the middle of the sidewalk near Washington Square, about a block from the building housing Santino's classroom. "Seriously?"
Melody stops walking and turns to face me. "Yep."
"You wrote about Disney World?" I ask, needing some clarification.
"Yep," she says. "You know, with Mickey Mouse and Donald Duck and Plato the Dog."
I blink a few times. "Please tell me you didn't call him Plato."
"Of course not." She laughs. "I wrote about the princesses, namely Cinderella, and the whole concept of living happily ever after. I mean, it's kind of your fault, since you quoted Walt Disney last time. It was stuck in my head. And besides, it's the happiest place on earth, right? That's what they say."
"Right," I say, starting to walk again. "That's what they say."
"Why, what did you write about?"
Definitely not Disney World. "I talked about philosophers like Aristotle and their views on happiness."
I can remember exactly how I started it:
Happiness isn't tangible. It's immeasurable, not profitable, often impractical, and some would argue indescribable. You can't see happiness, or smell it, or taste it, or hear it, or feel it… or can you?
I thought it was pretty brilliant, myself, but what do I know?
She blows out an exaggerated breath, making a face. "Where's the fun in that?"
"It's not supposed to be fun," I point out. "It's philosophy."
"Whatever," Melody says. "It ain't no fun if the homies can't have none. Speaking of which, Paul took Santino's class last year and he said that—"
I don't hear anything else that she says, her words falling on deaf ears. I look up as we approach the philosophy building and my heart stalls a beat before kicking into high gear, pounding so ferociously that my vision blurs around the edges, obscuring everything within a frame of blackness.
The butterflies are trying desperately to take flight.
My hands are trembling, my fingers tingling, as I clutch the straps of my backpack around my shoulders. Stepping out of the building, less than a hundred feet in front of me, is the man I left just hours ago, the man I see even when I close my eyes, dressed impeccably as always.
Naz.
He walks a few steps in my direction and pauses, his eyes flickering toward me, but his expression shows none of the recognition I feel inside.
None of the excitement.
None of the giddiness.
My palms start to sweat, my knees weak. I continue walking alongside Melody, trying to listen as she babbles on and on, but his sudden presence is jarring. I keep looking at him; keep waiting for him to see me. His eyes flicker my way a few times, landing straight on my face, but still—he offers no acknowledgment.