"Gorgeous, hm?"

Malia and Zuri comes rushing to me the second I close the front door. Behind them, I see my brother lounging on our couch and enjoying the salted peanuts Malia bought yesterday. 

"There's no way you heard that," I mutter, feeling the heat rush to my cheeks. Those words uttered by Gabriele under the gentle touch of the moonlight were too soft to be heard on the second level.

Ignoring their expectant eyes, I brush past them and in the direction of Liam, who still hasn't moved to say hello to me. His eyes drag up when I stand in front of him, slow and unfocused for a moment. When he recognizes me, he finally sits up and kisses my cheek. "Hi!"

"Hey. What's so interesting?" I angle my head to see what he's so wrapped up in. His phone is in dark mode and shows paragraph after paragraph. After a few sentences, I understand he's reading a synopsis of Jane Eyre.

He closes the screen and lays it on the table. "This is less interesting than the guy you were with. Who was he?"

The same heat returns to my face. Zuri and Malia have joined us now, and there is no way for me to escape these questions. "Please, don't turn into the overprotective brother you never were. He's just a friend."

Malia shakes her head in disbelief. "He kissed your cheek!"

Liam gestures to Malia and nods in agreement, "He did! And he called you gorgeous. That's not friendly behavior."

Zuri is quietly sitting between the both of them, watching and analyzing. Her mouth is tilted in a slight, amused smirk, but she says nothing. If she has noticed Alessandro and Gabriele are two different people, she doesn't show it.

"How did you even heard that?!" I ask, because there is actually no way they could have heard that on the second level of an apartment building when Gabriele was silently talking and we were downstairs, outside.

Now they both share a look, as if trying to decide who's going to tell me. Finally, Liam abides, "We opened the window."

"Only because we were worried for your sake!" Malia chips in, then elaborates, "We saw two figures, one with a light, and we thought maybe you were being followed or harassed. So we opened the window to listen in and act when we could confirm it was a creep, but then you were laughing, so we were..."

"Eavesdropping," Liam finishes, not having the shame to look at least a bit sorry. "And now we want to know who he was. He seemed nice."

Eyeing him with suspicion, I turn to my roommates. "Can we trust him?"

Behind me, I hear my brother utter sounds of protst and confusion, which only lead to amused, twinning smiles on my friends' faces. "He's your brother."

"But you were there when he saw. Maybe we should leave this conversation for tomorrow—"

"Nah uh!" Liam protests, squirming to get involved in our circle. He ends up quite a bit too close to Malia, but she doesn't look like she minds. He doesn't comment on it either, now sustaining me with a glare. "I want to know."

Sighing, acting as though it is a big chore while I know I was going to tell him anyway, I end his misery. "He's a customer. A charming one, on top of that. He offered to guide me home, and since it is dark outside, I figured that may be a smart idea."

Confusion clouds his gaze. "That's all?"

At my nod, he looks around the circle, trying to gauge the others' reactions. When he sees nothing out of the ordinary, he grows even more confused. "You guys were shrieking and jumping up and down for this?"

Zuri gives a one-shouldered shrug, Malia sends him an innocent smile. They know there's more, but Liam doesn't have to know about all that.

A deep sigh leaves him. "I don't understand you girls."

Malia, emphatic as ever, offers a few pats on his shoulder, a consoling manner. "One day, Liam. You'll get it one day."

"Not sure."

***

Gabriele: Perhaps the second choice?

"What does he say?" Malia asks, staring at my closet and looking as though she's deep in thought. Zuri has the same look in her eyes as she watches the different options for outfits laid out on my bed.

"He doesn't sound too sure either," I sigh. "But he says the second one. Which one was that again?"

Only twenty more minutes until Gabriele arrives, and I have not a single idea of what to wear. Pinterest is no use, since all those women are wearing Chanel and Dior, and I have nothing that looks even remotely close to those expensive blouses.

"Men, oh so useful," Zuri mutters, folding the navy blue dress pants that have a mud stain on the end. "Text me, he says, if your's unsure. And then you do, and it's like he didn't expect it and has no idea himself."

"Don't be like that," Malia adds in between. "She's already stressed, don't hate on her date too."

"It's not a date!"

"Anyways," she goes on, ignoring me in the way I thought she would. "The second option was this. We can keep this skirt but the blouse has got to go. Here, what do you think of this?"

And, for what feel like the thirtieth this morning, I tread towards the bathroom. But this time, I don't completely hate the look. Malia has managed to find a decent, white blouse that fits on top of the navy blue skirt we were contemplating. The V-cut may be a little too deep, but as long as I keep that in mind, it shouldn't be a problem.

My roommate claps in her hands, delighted with the sight in front of her. "Stunning! What do you think?"

I do a little spin, grateful we found something at last. "It's good. Thank you, really. It would have been a fiasco without you guys."

Just as Zuri gives me an encouraging hug, the doorbell rings. Immediately, my spine straightens and my body freezes. "Is that him? Oh God, that's him! Where is my phone? And my cap?"

Zuri grabs my wrists, successfully stopping my frantic searching. "They're on the kitchen table, remember? Now take your time, I'll open the door and talk with him until you're ready. Go to the bathroom, grab your things and take a deep breath. It's not a date, it's a hang out. Okay?"

"Okay. Right." I nod and do as she says, taking deep breaths. As I head into the kitchen, I hear the front door open and Gabriele's deep voice as he says, "Hello. I don't think we've met. My name's..."

Malia helps me check my hair and mascara—which I found in the deepest corners of my closet—before I step out and join Zuri in the hallway. Gabriele's in the middle of a sentence, but it fades out when his eyes catch sight of me.

Horror slams into me. "Is it not—" "Good Lord, Isabella. You look absolutely stunning," he says, a beautiful smile growing on his lips. His dimples are back, and my shoulders relax with the knowledge my outfit is approved.

"Do I have to share you with my mates today?" he asks, teasing, as I come to a stop in front of him and right next to Zuri. Her eyebrows raise in silent comment, but I catch it. Gabriele doesn't, and keeps on looking at my face.

When he sees my blush is the only answer he gets, he grins again and reaches out a hand. "You eaten yet?"

When I hear Malia join us as well, I step out of the door, eager to disappear from their eyes. "You told me not to."

He gets the hint and starts walking down the hallway, in the direction of the stairs, but not before turning and giving my friends a nod. "Ladies. I'll bring her back home tonight, yeah?"

With their thumbs up taken as answer, he turns to me and smiles. "I wasn't sure how good of a listener you'd be. But, my God, look at you. Have I already told you just how good you look today?"

It turns out the blush staining my cheeks is staying. "Once or twice, yes."

"Can't let that happen, now, can we? And what's this?" He reaches for the cap, and it's only then that I realize we were holding hands the whole walk towards the stairs. Malia is never going to let this go.

He examines it, looking a little confused. "This goes on your head?"

Instead of explaining, I just show him how it works. He hums in understanding, but when I tease and ask if he truly gets it, he sheepishly shakes his head. "How is this supposed to protect your from the sun? You'll overheat."

"It's a sports cap," I explain. "A normal cap will fall off or catch on the wind."

When we finally step outside, I find myself searching for his bike. Except, it isn't here, and in my search I almost miss the car parked right in front of me. It is cherry red, shiny and classy. This combination most likely makes it expensive, which is why I cringe. 

"How expensive is this one?" I ask, hearing my own voice waver. Gabriele shrugs beside me, opening the door to the passenger seat to allow me to sit down.

"Does that matter?" he asks, before shutting the door and walking around the car so he can get in himself. It looks like the car was built for him, since he fits perfectly. The seat is the right size, yes, but the whole interior just feels right when I see him in it.

No, it doesn't matter how expensive this car is, and maybe I don't want to know. Maybe ignorance truly is bliss and I can dream our worlds aren't completely different. Maybe I can even think the cars he seems to buy without a second thought wouldn't pay a year worth of my rent, perhaps even two.

"Do you want to choose the songs? I've modernized the radio, and added a CD player. The CDs—" he reaches over and opens the compartment in front of me, showing off tons of CDs— "are in here. Choose whatever you want, there's a bit of everything."

While my eyes scan the titles of the cases, like 80s rock and Italian bangers, I ask, "Just how old is this car that you had to add  a CD player?"

"It's from '69," he proudly says, a little smile playing around his lips. "It wasn't easy to get in this condition, but driving it makes the effort worth it. Do you know which one this is?"

I shake my head, refraining from telling him I have no time or desire to spend my evenings researching cars. If only to see him excitedly start to gush. "It's a Chevy Camaro. The 69' edition is the best looking, although the 2010 edition is nice as well."

"And how many cars do you have, exactly?" I ask, unable to hide the envy in my voice. The amount of worries that would leave me if I had one of his cars and could sell it...

"Six, if we don't count my projects or Alessandro's cars."

I gape at him. How can one have that much money?

Gabriele shifts uncomfortably behind the wheel at the change between us. "...I didn't mean to boast. You asked, and I didn't... I didn't immediately realize my situation is unusual."

Before I can answer him, he adds, "Do you want to drive? Our diner is only ten minutes from here, and I'll give you directions."

Now I'm the one uncomfortably squirming in my seat. "No, thanks."

He shrugs, eyes on the road. At the silence that follows, I feel almost pressured to say, "I can't drive."

A soft, thoughtful noise. Then, "That explains the long bike rides home."

Immediately, my cheeks flush. I shouldn't have admitted this.

To my surprise, he offers, "I could teach you how to, if you want. Here, let me pull to the side—" 

"Oh, no no!" I breathe in horror, desperate for him to keep driving straight. "This car is worth more money than I'll ever see, I don't want to break it. Besides, letting me drive without a permit doesn't sound very legal and—"

"Darling, we haven't passed a car in three miles. There's rarely any houses here and the diner is still about ten minutes away. We can manage, I promise. If you don't want to, just say so. But don't let my car or the legality of it scare you away. Truthfully, I don't want my car to be crashed, but I don't believe you will. And if it comes to a point of a police stop, I'll cover the expenses."

Still unsure, I stare at the road in front of us. It is straight, and there's multiple lanes. If at any point a car wants to drive by us, I wouldn't have to do anything. And I truly want to learn how to drive. "I haven't ever sat behind a steering wheel, so it's actually the basics you have to teach me."

A smile starts to play around his lips as he looks over at me, not even looking at the road as he pulls to the side of it. "Let's do it."

Am I really about to do this?

Once we've switched seats, Gabriele leans over against his seat and lets me indulge the different pedals. When I look over at him, his eyebrows raise. "What? Take your time, it's your debut as a street racer."

Nerves pull my lips up, and now we're smiling at each other. "Is stick-shift hard to learn?"

He gives a one-shouldered shrug. "Depends what you think of as hard. In Europe, almost no one drives automatic. It's a habit."

Over the course of the next five minutes, Gabriele patiently explains all the pedals, gears and combinations. It's a lot to remember, and it doesn't help I have to rely on a feeling, but he reassures he is sitting next to me and will guide me through it.

"Ready?" he asks, leaning over to turn the key. "This is your last time to back out."

I sit straighter, focused. "I won't."