“Says the girl who fell in love with her straight roommate.”We spend a moment of amusement before she goes on. “It became kind of clear that I was different—even though I’d always suspected. So, one day, I sat in a café not far from school and I watched every person who walked in. And I told myself not to think about it, to answer instantly if I found that person attractive or not. I was there for almost three hours.”
“And?”
“Every person I found attractive was female except one.” She bites a cookie and says with a grin, “And that one guy was kind of girly.”
“And it was decided.”
She nods. “It was. Just like that.”
“Okay. First girlfriend. Go.” This is fun, getting to know her.
“Angelina Martini.” She says the name so fast, I wonder if she somehow knew I was gonna ask. “She was beautiful and funny and athletic, and she broke my very young heart.”
“Oh, ouch. That first one is the worst, isn’t it?”
“Theworst. How about you?”
“Michele Burton.” I let go of a wistful sigh. “She was older, more experienced, and I was head over heels. We lasted a whole ten months before she decided I was boring and started seeing a mutual friend of ours. She actually called me a marshmallow.”
Marina grimaces. “Ouch.”
“Yeah. Took me a long time to recover from her.” I finish my espresso. “Like I said, the first is the worst.”
“Okay, how about last girlfriend?” And I swear to God, her dark eyes twinkle with mischief, which makes me laugh.
“Funny how neither of us is asking about current girlfriends,” I say out loud before I realize it. Marina just continues to grin and finishes her espresso.
“I made an assumption,” she says, setting her tiny cup down on its tiny saucer.
“Same.”
Our gazes hold and there’s an electric current of arousal that runs between us. It’s almost visible, I swear, like I could reach out and grab it, feel how taut it is, pluck it like a guitar string.
“How about we compare worst dates instead?” I ask, hoping she doesn’t notice that I don’t really want to discuss my last relationship. She does, though, I can tell by the way she looks at me, and how weird is that? That I can read what she’s thinking already?
“Okay,” she finally says. “You first.”
I nod and clear my throat. “This was about two years ago. I’d been single for a short time and was trying to get back out there. I swiped right on this woman on a dating app and we set up dinner.”
“Ah, there’s your first mistake,” Marina says, finger up. “You start with coffee. Something short you can escape from if you need to. Something with a time limit.”
“Now you tell me,” I joke. “But you’re absolutely right. My friend Jessie told me the same thing—afterthe fact. Anyway, I meet this woman at the restaurant. Shockingly, she’s more attractive in person than in her photo.”
“Ah, it’s usually the other way around.”
“Exactly. So, I’m pleasantly surprised already. We shake hands, sit down and…” I turn to Marina. “She never. Stops. Talking.” Marina barks out a laugh and I go on to say, “I’m not kidding. Not once. She started talking and that was it. She never asked me a single question but went from the subject of her job to her family to her education to her cats to the menu to her favorite foods.” Marina is cracking up at this point. “I think I said a total of about seven words the entire night. And they were to the waiter.”
“You needed to be rescued!” Marina is still laughing, and I decide right here that, just like her accent, her laugh is a sound I love and want to hear more of.
“I know! And I never thought to set that up with somebody ahead of time. I was so out of practice dating.” I shake my head with an embarrassed chuckle. “That was nuts.” I grab a cookie. “Your turn.”
Marina looks out over the river. “All right, so I was doing a favor for a friend.”
“Uh-oh,” I say, and she laughs.
“Exactly. A good friend of mine had a good friend who had gone through a divorce. They’d been together for many years, she didn’t see the split coming, and she was devastated by it.”
“She sounds likelotsof fun,” I say with a grin.
