Page 53 of The Boyfriend List
So here I am, going on a date with Giorgio so I can put my feelings for London where they belong. In the rearview mirror.
I stand in front of the vanity, applying lipstick and mascara and a little bit of blush as if this is just any other date. It's not like I just realized my feelings for London are more hopeless than screaming 'share the floating door' at Jack and Rose inTitanic.
Giorgio is punctual. He shows up with a single red rose, a smile, and something in his grey eyes that I can't read. "Ready to go?"
"Mm-hmm." I don't use actual words, because seeing Giorgio on my welcome mat blares warning signs. That London should be here instead of him. That I said yes to the wrong guy—because the right guy never asked me out.
Giorgio doesn't notice the crushing despair welling up inside me. Instead, he talks nonstop about the Greek restaurant we’re going to. As he describes their porksouvlakiand lambyouvetsis, I cheer up the slightest bit. Giorgio isn't as awful company as my previous dates, and I can tell he's trying his best to help me enjoy myself.
It's not his fault I wish he was London.
"That sounds great," I say when he's finished his spiel. "Thanks for bringing me here."
He parks outside the Taverna. "Don't thank me yet. You haven't tried theirspanakopita."
"I'm sure it'll be delicious."
Giorgio doesn't get my car door for me. Which is fine, because if we make eye contact again, he might read my feelings for London on my face.
Why is the only man I’ve ever loved forever out of my reach?
We enter the restaurant and order. I get the lambyouvetsison Giorgio's recommendation, but I can't help remembering the last meal I shared with London. How easy it was to sit in silence together, and just as easy to pour out our secrets to each other.
Giorgio smiles at a half-hearted joke I make, but London would have given me a full-blown laugh, more than my joke deserved.
We talk about music. I bring up my favourite P-pop bands. Giorgio tries his best to be interested, but he prefers heavy metal. An image of London and I jamming to SB19 in the car flashes through my mind. By the time the food arrives, I don't know if I want to leave, cry, or tear my hair out.
We're halfway through our appetizer—calamari—when Giorgio's phone rings. "Excuse me, I need to take this."
He wipes his fingers on a napkin and leaves to take the call. As he paces outside the cracked-open door, I catch snippets of his conversation.
"…waited too long… I warned you… Please don't beat me up…"
I frown. What is he doing? Is he collecting on a debt? Is he part of the Greek mafia?
He hangs up a few minutes later and returns to our table. Giorgio grins again, but his smile is strained. "Sorry about that."
"Who was it?" I pluck another calamari ring from the basket and dip it in garlic aioli.
"Work," he says hastily.
"Really?"
"Yep." He pops another piece of calamari in his mouth and fixes his gaze on the glass of water in front of him.
"Okay," I say. It's not like I'd actually date Giorgio long-term. Still, I might as well run through my boyfriend checklist with him. "Can you ride a horse?"
Giorgio takes it all in stride. "Yes. I grew up riding horses with Kostas."
"What about dancing? Do you know how to dance?"
"Why, Gloria Romero, are you interviewing me or are you asking me on a second date?"
I roll my eyes. "Answer the question."
"Yes, I can ballroom dance."
"Do you have any strange hobbies?"
