I kicked her under the table and shot her a look of warning. Her iPhone started to vibrate, shaking the entire table.
“It’s Bryce,” she explained.
A smile crept across her face, and something made me think it was a booty call.
“The yuppie from Oliver’s?” I grimaced; a little disappointed she was seeing him again.
“That’s the one,” she answered without looking up from her phone. “I forgot I was supposed to be meeting him. I have to run. Boys, always a pleasure. Arrivederci.”
“Goodnight,” we all said in unison.
“Who’s Bryce again?” asked Olivia.
“Ugh, you don’t want to know,” I shook my head.
The bar was starting to clear out, thankfully. In New York City, no one was ever home. Most of the population inhabited bars or boutique coffee shops instead of ever returning to their respective homes. I couldn’t decide if it was the size of their apartments that kept them away, or the constant need to feel “busy.”
I caught Michael’s eye and for a second I forgot anyone else was with us. He smiled at me and the increasingly familiar rush of heat started to creep up on me.
“So, Amalia,” Alex said, breaking me out of my daze. “I heard you’re going to Panama when school’s over in the spring.”
“Brazil,” I answered quickly.
“Same shit,” he shot back.
“Actually, they’re two completely separate countries,” I answered, annoyed at his ignorance and attitude.
Alex and I had always had a love-hate relationship, and he was closer with Michael and Olivia than me, but I tolerated him for the sense of the group.
“Whatever, they speak Spanish there don’t they?” he smiled sarcastically.
“No. Actually, they speak Portuguese. Seriously dude, get a map,” I mumbled and took a sip of my beer.
“Brazil! That’s so exciting!” Olivia said, trying to recover the uncomfortable moment.
Michael looked up at me and said, “I didn’t know you were leaving the country! For how long?”
“About three months”, I answered. “I’ll be there from the end of May until August. I have a cousin who lives there so I am going to spend some time living with the locals.”
“Are you going for your job?” he asked.
“No, nothing like that,” I shrugged. “I’ve just always wanted to go there; it just looks so beautiful. I spent all of last summer working as a receptionist so I could save enough money to buy a plane ticket.”
“Very ambitious, Amalia. What does your boyfriend have to say about that?” Alex asked, challenging me.
“Nothing. He feels fine,” I shot back.
No need to go into details, to explain Nicholas and I had gotten into a small argument that morning over the length of time I was going to be away. Our minor argument was none of Alex’s business, and also I didn’t want Michael to think Nick and I had any problems at all.
“Well, I could use a smoke,” Olivia said to Alex, attempting to break the tension. “Care to join me?” She could tell I was getting annoyed by him and gave me a small smile. He nodded and stood up, motioning for her to walk in front of him. As obnoxious as he was, he had good manners. I was relieved to have the questions stop, and also to be alone with Michael. I noticed once again how well put together he looked and wondered how he looked when at home, alone, with no one to impress.
“Hey, listen sorry I skipped out last night with just a note,” he leaned closer over the table.
His cologne smelled very masculine, like deep sandalwood and a touch of something else I couldn’t quite put my finger on. He leaned back in his chair and laughed. “It’s just that, you looked so peaceful, I didn’t want to wake you.”
“Yeah, um, don’t worry about it,” I muttered nervously. I tucked a stray curl behind my ear and sat up a little straighter. “I’m just embarrassed I fell asleep!”
I was definitely more disappointed than embarrassed, having wasted my time with him unconscious. After I ran into him on the street two nights ago, Michael had come back to my apartment to talk. After opening a bottle of Pinot and pouring us both two oversized glasses, I asked him what was bothering him.
“I’d actually rather not discuss it,” he said. “Is it alright if we just sit here?”
I wasn’t quite sure what to say. Our reason for being at my place alone was gone, and I felt even more awkward than before.
“Yeah, sure,” I replied, noticeably confused by the request. “Anything to help.”
The night was, as I told the girls, uneventful. After we finished the wine, we sat and talked about school, applying for internships, and what our lives were like before we moved to New York. Apparently I had been so exhausted that I fell asleep on the couch while we were watching The Daily Show.
I woke up the next morning, still on the couch, with a throw blanket around me and a note on the coffee table that read, “Thanks for the company, see you in class.”
My assumption was right, that Michael had left right after I fell asleep. I looked around and noticed the bar was emptying out. Now this was more like it, no fighting over the bartenders tonight.
“So, um, how’s Marge doing?” I asked, and then immediately regretted the words.
He seemed a little taken back by the question. The only information I had on Michael’s girlfriend was her name, and the fact that she was two years younger. Since she was still in college, a senior at Arizona State, they only saw each other once every month or two.
“She’s doing fine. I spoke to her earlier today on the phone, but it’s not the same,” he said. “Long-distance relationships are hard. Even harder when you’re older. I mean, I’m not an undergrad any more.”
I looked at him surprised. I wasn’t expecting such a detailed answer.
“Anyway, isn’t your birthday coming up? Twenty-three right? Getting old,” he said playfully, obviously changing the subject.
I played along.
“Yeah, next week,” I mumbled. “Don’t remind me.”
“Ha, not a birthday person?” he asked, looking amused, and gave me a poke on the shoulder.
“No, actually I’m not. Does it matter?” I answered, now laughing myself. “You’re all going to make me do something lame anyway!”
“No way! We’re going to have fun,” he motioned to the bartender.
I cocked my head to the side and said, “Michael, every time you say we’re going to have fun, we end up drunk, completely broke, and lost in neighborhoods no one should ever be lost in.”
“Yes, Amalia,” he smiled at me, flashing every one of his perfectly straight teeth. “That is how I define fun.”
It’s my birthday, and I’ll do what I want to
I looked around Cassandra’s spacious two-bedroom apartment crowded with about twenty of my closest friends. The place was filled with pink and white balloons, plastic martini glasses, and paper decorations including a custom banner that read