She sets the plates on the table and refills our glasses with water.
“Enjoy,” she says before moving away.
“Thank you,” Frankie mutters.
“This is it for me,” I murmur, my gaze pinned on the food in front of me. “It looks delicious.”
I unfold a napkin and set it on my lap before taking the first bite of food. The salad is fresh, and the balsamic reduction is to die for, and as I get a taste of the second dish, I can’t suppress my satisfaction.
“Oh, my God. This is so good,” I say, the creaminess of the dish coating my palate. “Here, taste it.”
I push my plate to Frankie, who cuts a piece and slides it into her mouth.
Her eyes flicker with pleasure.
“Mmm... It’s good.”
“Eat more. We can share it.”
We’re doing that, making sure that we don’t stain our dresses when a few cars pull in.
A Beetle–– it's pink like my dress–– a Mustang convertible and a Vintage Corvette.
They park in front of the restaurant.
“Don’t tell me. This is their crew?” I murmur, three women climbing out of the Mustang and two more out of the Beetle.
Two men step out of the classic car.
“I told you she has a tribe.”
“Which one is Amber?” I ask, running a napkin over my lips.
I have my eyes on a woman who has long curly hair the color of dark honey.
I bet it’s her.
“Yup. That’s her,” Frankie says, noticing the direction of my gaze.
In the next few minutes, I get introduced to five women and two men. They’re all college students, in different study fields, from Economics to Literature to Engineering and History.
The women have bubbly personalities, like to talk, flirt, and have a good time, and I can see why Frankie fits well in their group.
I’m the odd friend, but I don’t mind. Someone has to be that person.
We order pizza, meatballs, fried cheese, and all sorts of other delicious dishes that take us well into the late hours of the evening.
Strangely, the street doesn’t get quieter as the night progresses.
Quite the opposite.
Music comes from inside the club, more bikes pulling up in front of the bar across the street, the atmosphere getting even more enlivened.
The energy of the place and people sweeps through me, making me chattier than usual.
Amber announces that she’ll throw a party at her place next week to kick off the summer season, and everybody is invited.
It sounds like fun, so Frankie and I say yes.
Around ten, a couple of bikers ride slowly by the terrace when Amber flicks her hand up, and one of the men turns left and parks in front of the restaurant.
“This is the guy I was telling you about, “Amber says to Frankie.
My friend’s eyes light up with a smile.
The man takes off his helmet, revealing a cute, boyish face and a bright grin.
Huh.
Is this more than a girls’ night out? Frankie doesn’t seem too surprised to see him as if she expected him to show up.
He sets his helmet on his ride and runs his hands through his hair before edging to our table.
“Frankie, this is my cousin Carlos,” Amber says before turning to him. “Frankie, my friend from San Francisco.”
“She talked a lot about you,” he says, squeezing Frankie’s hand.
She rises to her feet, striking me how tense she is.
Well, well... well.
He hardly resembles the imaginary math teacher she was fantasizing about, yet she’s visibly attracted to him.
“Do you want anything to eat?” Amber asks, looking at him.
He says words I can’t make out before pointing to the bar across the street and shifting his eyes back to the table.
He likes Frankie, and she knows it. Otherwise, she wouldn’t slide back into her seat, her cheeks crimson.
They exchange a few words, talking about being new in town–– Frankie–– and meeting next week at the party–– Carlos–– and in the meantime, he suggests they should ride down the coastline together.
She says ‘yes’ without pondering much, and I already feel as if I’m about to lose her to this handsome stranger.
Shortly after, he excuses himself and walks across the street.
It’s almost midnight when Frankie and I say goodbye to Amber and her friends, and we make a beeline for our ride, a takeout bag dangling from my hand.
“What a night...” I mutter, setting the food in the back and turning the key in the ignition, furtively glancing at her.
She checks her eyes and lips in a small mirror as if she hasn’t heard me.
“Can we stop over there?” she asks, pointing to the club across the street.
“Why?”
“I have to take care of something.”
“Are you sure?”
She swings her gaze to me.
“I forgot to give him my address.”
“Call him.”
“I don’t have his phone number.”
“Call Amber.”
She rolls her eyes, annoyed.
“Work with me, please.”
“You want to see him?”
“Yes, I want to see him. Do I look all right?”
Her eyes move down her white dress.
I give her a quick once over before backing up slowly and pulling out of the parking spot.
“Like a princess,” I comment.
“Seriously.”
I glance at her again.
“Seriously. You look cute.”
“Thank you.”
“And he looks nothing like the math professor.”
She gestures at me, amused.
“Shut up,” she says, laughing.
“I never pictured you as a biker babe.”
“I’m not his babe, and he’s not a biker.”
“No?”
I cock an eyebrow and toss an ironic look at her, the car rolling slowly.
“Only part-time biker. He’s a student.”
“Who wants to be a teacher?” I tease.
“Accountant.”
“Not bad.”
“He’s not sure.”
“How do you know all that?” I ask, intrigued, pulling up in front of the club.
She smiles cutely.
“Amber told me.”
“She’s quite the matchmaker, isn’t she?”’
“I told you she likes me. She can find someone for you too.”
“Right. No, thanks.”
I put the car in park.
“She knows Rex.”
I jerk my eyes to her.
“Please don’t tell me... You didn’t talk to her about him.”
I feel tension in my chest.
I know girls like Amber. They’re like a radio station.
“I’m not stupid,” she says, hesitantly.
“Frankie?”
“I’m not. I didn’t tell her anything, but I dropped his name in a conversation once or twice as if I’d heard about him in passing.”
“And?”
“They have a lot of money.”
“They?”
“His family.”
“Everybody has money in his town.”
She purses her lips.
“Mm-hmm.”
I chuckle.
“Okay, except us.”