“High school?” I raised an eyebrow. I hadn’t been expecting that, but I should have. She looked too innocent and pure to have had much life experience.
“Well, I’m graduating in a couple of months. I’m going to Columbia in the fall.” She beamed. “It will be fun. I’ll move to Manhattan then.”
“So you’ll be leaving Brooklyn?” I frowned. I didn’t like the sound of that. I lived in Brooklyn. Granted, Manhattan wasn’t that far away, but I needed her close, where I could keep an eye on her. “How old are you?” I asked, but I didn’t care. Her age wouldn’t affect my plans for her or us.
“Seventeen.” She was far too open and honest. “I’ll be eighteen next week.”
How convenient. What shall we do to celebrate the day I will make you mine? “That’s awesome, any fun plans?”
“I’ll most probably go to dinner with my parents.” She shrugged. “It’s sort of our thing.”
“Will your boyfriend be joining?”
“No, I don’t have one.” She shook her head shyly. Lucky for the nonexistent boyfriend that he didn’t exist because if he had, he would have been in trouble.
“Okay.” I nodded. “I’m sure you’ll have one soon.”
“Oh, I’m not looking.” She chewed down on her lower lip. “My parents don’t want me dating until I graduate from college.”
“Until you graduate from college?” So she was untouched? Even better.
“They don’t want me to be distracted from going for my goals. I’m going to be a doctor or a lawyer.”
“A lawyer?” I raised an eyebrow. I couldn’t stand lawyers.
“Yeah. So Luca, are you a professional?”
“No.” I shook my head. The less she knew about me, the better.
“Do you work?” Her eyes looked at me for a longer period of time. Now she was more curious.
“Yes, I have my own business.”
“That’s cool. What do you do?”
Didn’t she know it was rude to ask too many questions? I paused for a few seconds, thinking about how to answer her. I abhorred lying, but sometimes a lie was best for both people. “You ever heard of Al Capone or Fatty Arbuckle?” I asked with a cocky grin, deciding the best tactic was straight-up honesty.
“Who hasn’t heard of Al Capone?” She laughed. “Why?”
“Well, I’m in the same profession as them. I’m in the mafia.”
“Oh funny,” she said with a laugh. “Sure you are.”
She didn’t believe me, and I was relieved. She didn’t seem like the sort of girl that would be happy dating a guy in the mafia. Not that we were dating, yet.
“Oh, I’m on this street,” she said as we stopped at the corner. “You don’t have to walk with me anymore. I’m only a few doors down from here.”
“I’ll walk you to your door. I am a gentleman.”
“Oh, okay.” She nodded and smiled. “That’s very nice of you.”
“No problem.” We walked about two hundred yards and then stopped in front of a brownstone. Number 3500. “Is this you?”
“Yes, thank you, Luca.” She reached forward to grab her bags and our fingers brushed. A charge of electricity darted through me and she must have felt it because I noticed her eyes widening as she stepped back slightly.
“Well, I hope you have a nice rest of your day.” I gave her a small nod and a smile. “Keep your eyes on the road and not on your book.”
“I will,” she said, hesitating as she waited for me to say something else. “Well, it was nice meeting you.”
“You too.” I knew she was waiting for me to ask her for her number. Or to ask her on a date. She was curious about me. And from the way her eyes darted along my face, I could tell she found me attractive. I wasn’t vain, but I knew that women liked me. I was blessed with a full head of dark brown silky hair, vivid green eyes, and a face that betrayed my Italian heritage. I’d been compared to a Roman god many times. “Ciao.” I lifted up my hand, gave her a small wave and turned around. I started walking again and then stopped and looked back at her. She was still standing there watching me.
“If fate wants us to meet again, we will,” I said with a small smile. “I don’t want to get you into trouble with your parents.” My voice was gentle. “So I won’t ask you out. Goodbye, Anabel.”
“Goodbye, Luca,” she said, her cheeks tinged with pink. She looked like she wanted to say something else, but before she could get the words out, I left. I could feel her eyes burning into my back as I walked away, and I resisted the urge to turn back again. There would be time to give Anabel what she wanted. Now was not the time. I already knew that fate had a plan for us to meet up on Saturday night. Anabel just didn’t know that I had a direct line to her future.
“Luca, where are you going?” Giorgio’s pudgy fingers grabbed for a piece of chocolate cake as he gazed at me. “I thought you were going to stay and play video games.”
“Not tonight.” I shook my head. “Tell your mom I said thanks for dinner.”
“I thought we were going to grab some beers and...” His voice was muffled as he chewed on the still-warm dessert. Giorgio had been my best friend since we were seven. His father had worked for my grandfather and his mother had looked after me since I was a kid. While the two of us never had much in common and were exact opposites, we had an unspoken bond. Giorgio looked up to me in a way that made me feel like a king. I kept him around because he was loyal and someone that I knew would always have my back, though I found it hard to rely on anyone for anything that was truly deep.
“I’m going to meet a girl,” I said finally, letting him in on my plans for the night.
“That girl we saw by the store that day?” Giorgio was a pig, but sometimes he was far more astute than I gave him credit for.
“Which girl?”
“The one you stared at in awe, the blonde one.” He looked over at me, his eyes keen. “She was pretty, and I saw you staring at her for a long time. And then you took me back to that store four more times in two weeks.” He blinked. “I figured you liked her.”
He knew then. Knew that I’d been watching her, trying to figure her out. He hadn’t said anything, which surprised me. Giorgio was the sort of guy that usually said what he was thinking. He was nineteen, just one year younger than me, but he reminded me of someone much younger. He was a part of our world, but his mother had coddled him. He was far too trusting and far too chatty, but maybe I’d been wrong. Maybe he did know how to keep his mouth shut when it counted.
“She’s not a blonde. She’s a brunette. Her hair is just very light. The color of dark sand.”
“Uhm, okay. So you finally worked up the courage to talk to her? I didn’t notice you guys together.” He frowned and put the cake back down on the plate. “When did you talk to her?” He seemed annoyed with himself and I walked back to the table to stare down at him.
“You seem surprised. Have you been watching me?” The hostility in my voice was clear.