Leo

"I'll use the truck in case I want to come back earlier." I tell Mateo.

I listened to Nicole's advice to have more fun and said yes to Mat when he asked me if I wanted to go with him to a real estate event his dad's company is hosting. I'm not sure how fun it's going to be, though. I've never been to such events, but I guess I'll see. His wife, Carina, has work so she isn't able to be his plus one and since I'm jobless at the moment, he asked me.

"Alright." He nods and taps the hood of the truck. "Man, I still can't believe papa parted ways with this one."

His father, aka my uncle, loves this car. It has a sentimental value to him as he purchased it with his own money he saved an entire summer for. Since then, he upgraded to much fancier cars as he got richer, but he couldn't sell the truck. But when I'm home, I always borrow it from him. Last week I asked if I can buy it from him thinking he's gonna say no. And he did say no, he gave it to me for free. Told me it's an early birthday gift. He's happy the truck is going to someone he trusts.

"He'll still be seeing her around." I say, removing a leaf that's stuck on the windshield wipers.

"Her?" He laughs. "You can't get a girlfriend, so you turn the truck into your lover?" He buckles over at his corny joke.

"See you there." I pretend I didn't hear him and get in the car. Apparently, the topic of me getting laid and or getting a girlfriend is the talk of the town amongst my family members. Just because they found their significant other young, doesn't mean I can find someone that easily.

I pull out of the driveway and glance into my rear-view mirror to see him still standing there and laughing. He's a dork.

After a twenty-minute ride, I park at the back of the parking lot since all the other spots are taken. Checking my phone to see if I have a message from Mat, I see he's already arrived. He apparently drove over the limit—another thing I don't like to do. He sent me a message a few minutes ago telling me to meet him at the bar.

The event is taking place in some fancy botanical garden. When I reach the section reserved for this event, the scenery in front of me is pleasantly surprising. There are flowers of all kinds and colors. They're set into an array of different shapes, such as circles, hearts and even some sort of bird.

The bar is easy to find. It's long and behind the bartenders is a wall of flowers and plants and in the middle is my uncle's company name.

The sound of Mateo's laughter pulls me to him. He has a loud laughter, carefree and contagious. I reach him and see he's talking to his dad and another man with grey hair. I hug my uncle and shake the man's hand. He leaves us after a moment to talk to someone else.

"This place is nice." I say as I glance around.

"It is." My uncle agrees. "What do you want to drink?"

"A soda is fine."

He nods and gestures to the bartender to order my drink. After a few seconds, a drink is in my hand.

"This may not really be your type of party, but the people here are all fun." He tells me. "So mingle a little. There are a few fine ladies here." He winks, taps my shoulder, and walks away.

Mateo laughs. "Shut up." I grumble.

"It's a part of being the youngest." He explains. He glances around before inching closer. "Did Nic say anything to you about this event?" By Nic he means his older sister Nicole.

"No. Why?" I take a sip.

"Dad wanted her to be here today. You know, to make connections and what not. But guess what happened?"

"What?" I ask, even though I know the answer.

"She fucking bailed. Like always." He frowns.

I know her father has been pestering her to come work for him. He thinks a person needs structure in their life. A routine. And while I agree to some extent, Nicole is happy with how she's currently living her life.

"No, she didn't say anything." I tell him again.

"Did she say where she's going next?"

I shake my head. "All I know is that she's staying here as long as I'm here."

He downs his drink and frowns. It's not always you can see him with a face that's close to being grave. He's usually always smiling or laughing.

"All I want is for her to at least give me a warning every time she flees the fucking country." He mutters. That's Nicole. She travels wherever and whenever she wants without telling anyone. She's gotten better at it though, and now she tells us the day before. It's better than wondering where the hell she is.

I put a hand on his shoulder. "I know it sucks, but at least she's happy."

"Yeah, I know." He nods, then looks behind my shoulder. "Hey, I have to talk to this guy. I'll see you later." When he's beside me, he looks at me. "Try to mingle, yeah?"

"Yeah, yeah." I scratch my brow with my middle finger. He laughs again.

So I mingle.

I'm not the best at small talk. Or talking in general. I'm better at actions. Using my hands.

When someone asks me how I'm doing, I say 'fine' and forget to ask them how they're doing. So I come off as rude. Or incompetent. But I'm neither. I just don't have to do this a lot. In the army, we usually use signals and codes. Not full sentences.

Also, most people here are business people and they're here to talk about business opportunities and money. Two things I know little about.

So after I 'talk' to a few people, I return to the bar and order another soda.

After a few hours, almost half the people are gone and only a handful are loitering. Checking my watch, I notice it's a bit past seven. I'm pulling my phone from my pocket to let Mateo know I'll be heading home when a feminine voice halts my actions.

"Can I get some water, please? Thank you."

"Now you can't tell me you're not following me, stalker." I tease.

Josephine's head whips to me and the confusion instantly turns into a grin when she sees me.

"Leonardo." She takes a couple of steps and nears me. I'm sitting on a barstool, which is high, and while she's standing, the top of her head barely reaches my chest. She sits down on the stool beside me, her knees knocking into mine in the process. "What are you doing here?"

"Could ask you the same thing." I gesture around us. "You're not into real estate."

"Neither are you." She doesn't miss a beat. "Right?" She frowns.

I chuckle. "No, I'm not. I came as my cousin's plus one."

She's wearing a black skirt and a black shirt that's tight on her frame. I don't let my eyes linger there, instead I look at her arms. I notice a new tattoo. It's a sun, but it has a smiley face in it.

I smile at the cute tattoo as the bartender hands her water. Her hair is extra curly tonight, like she has braids overnight and took them out before she came here.

She takes a healthy sip, then turns to me. "I came with my friend. She's a real estate agent." She says. "I mostly came for the finger food, though."

"Same. I know nothing about real estate."

"But there aren't many options, to be honest." She says, the corners of her lips downward. "I mean cheese and wine only? If you're hosting an event here, I'd expect there to be a full buffet."

I stifle my laugh. I'm good at it, though. When you have a drill sergeant yelling a millimeter away from your face, spit flying from his mouth and landing on your face, you learn really quickly to pretend you don't have any facial muscles.

"You're right." I agree. There is more than just cheese and wine. There's an open bar, and I saw servers serving fucking caviar on those little toasts.

"I know from my girl friend that people in real estate make good money." She widens her eyes like she can't believe how much money they actually make yearly.

"I saw macarons," I shrug, as if the expensive pastry is consolation. I've eaten tastier desserts from a shack in Iran than macarons people always rave about.

She scoffs. "Macarons taste like air." She straightens up in her seat. "I mean seriously. French people think they're all that with their croissants," she imitates a French accent on that word. "And their crème brûlée." She shakes her head. "They have nothing on Italian food and desserts."

And I can't hold in my laugh anymore. Apparently she has something against French food. I laugh at how into she got during her little rant.

Her cheeks turn red, the rays from the sun setting forming a glow behind her. She covers her face with her hands and peers at me through fingers.

"Sorry." She mutters. "In case you didn't notice, I'm hungry."

I remove her hands from her face, but I keep my fingers on her left wrist in the bar top. Her skin is warm against mine, her pulse quick under my fingers.

"It's all right." I say. "I'll make sure to tell my uncle to prepare a three course meal for his next event."

The way her eyes widen is almost unreal. She attempts to hide behind her hands again, but I prevent her.

"Oh god." She mumbles to herself. "Your uncle is hosting this thing?" She hisses at me.

"But I agree with you, though. So it's fine."

She softly bangs her forehead on the counter, then shakes her head at me, her shoulders shaking with quiet laughter.

"I'm sorry." She holds up a palm. "Not about the food. I stand by what I said. I just came here and started ranting without even asking how you're doing."

"I liked your rant." I wink. What is it with me winking when she's around?

Her cheeks turn redder. I like that color on her.

Would she turn red when I push her against the nearest wall, and I pound into her—

"What are you drinking?" Her question pulls me out of the dirty path my mind went to. I discreetly look down at my crotch to make sure nothing is showing.

All good.

My family's insistence I get laid is getting to me.

"Coke." I answer her, then take a sip. Her eyes follow my movements. How my lips rest against the rim of the glass.

"You're sober?" She asks, curious why I'm not drinking any of the fancy, expensive alcohol they're serving.

"I'm driving." I explain.

"Oh, right." She motions to her own glass of water. "I'm neither sober nor driving. But I only drink alcohol if I wanna get drunk." She tells me before I get the chance to ask. I don't mind it. Like I said before, I'm bad at small talk. So her taking the lead in our conversation is totally fine with me.

"I guess I'm kinda the same?" I say. I'm not a fan of drinking. Only when I'm partying. Or when I'm at a family gathering, then I drink one or two drinks at most. Never in my life have I gotten drunk, only tipsy. I don't like not being in control of my body, mind and just not being not in control in general. Which is why I drink for taste only. Which is kinda ironic as my family owns a winery.

"I don't like the taste of most alcohol." She continues speaking. "And the tasty ones are full of sugar."

I smile. "And sugar is bad for our health." I mean it as a tease, but she thinks I'm serious as she nods.

"Exactly!" She returns my smile. "So I just tip back a few shots and that's enough to get me buzzed." She finishes her water and signals the bartender, asking for a coke.

He puts it in front of her immediately and throws her a wink as he walks away. She just smiles at him. Either unaffected by it or oblivious he's flirting with her as his eyes swiftly but not so subtle to me rake down her body as he walks to take the order of another patron.

She turns her body in my direction, her bare knees touching mine and getting sandwiched between mine. I don't move my legs and neither does she.

"When's your cast coming off?" She taps said cast.

"In a month, I think."

She nods. "It's not itching much? Now that it's getting warmer?"

My fingers trace the little flower at the edge of the cast that Izzy drew. "Not really, no. If it starts itching, I just ignore it and it goes away."

When I lift my eyes, she's staring at me with a blank face. "So what? You just don't scratch at all and it's gone?"

"Yeah." Nodding my head, I say, "It's mostly just your mind playing tricks on you." Just like with physical pain, if you give in and scratch, you don't have enough control of your brain.

"If I have an itch somewhere, I have to scratch my whole body." I almost laugh when her hand goes up to scratch her neck. Then her arm. She notices my raised brow and grabs her glass with both hands.

"How do you do that?" She asks.

I shrug. "In the military, you're trained to focus on what's important. And only that." I don't tell her how what's important is not dying. Attempting to shoot a kill shot on the first try so the target doesn't escape. Always watching yours and your fellow soldiers' six. How you can't be distracted by anything other than your goal.

"Teach me, please." Her fingers twitch around the glass, itching to itch her skin.

Pun intended.

I chuckle, taking a sip of my drink.

"It can't be taught in one day."

She tips her head back and takes a sip, and I notice a dark drawing on the inside of her finger. When she puts the glass back on the counter, I touch her finger. "You have a tattoo here?"

She raises her pointer finger in front of my face. The letter J on the lower knuckles.

"It was a dare." She rotates her finger, glancing at the small letter. "I was drunk when I agreed to it."

"At least it's not a penis."

She throws her head back, a loud laugh escaping. She doesn't have one of those soft, feminine laughs. It's quirky and deep, coming straight from her stomach. Like she doesn't care if her laugh isn't elegant. I like that about her.

"Remind me to never drink alcohol ever again." She chuckles.

In my peripheral, I notice two girls walking toward us. When they're closer, I recognize them as Josephine's girlfriends from Lusso. The shorter one, Ananya I think, is smiling softly while her friend, who I remember is called Candice, looks me up and down. As if sizing me up.

"Jojo." She captures Jojo's attention. "We're heading out. My feet are killing me."

Doing a quick scan, I see only a handful of people around, sitting and chatting. Their ties are loose and their cuffs are rolled up their forearms. They're not talking business anymore.

"Oh." Her shoulders slump a bit. I don't smile, even though I really want to, at how she appears sad at having to go.

"I can drive you back." I say before she has the chance to stand up. The corner of her lips twitches.

Facing Candice again, her glare and crossed arms could rival that of my drill sergeant. "So you know where she lives?" She says with a sassy tone.

"Uhm." I honestly don't have an answer to that. But I commend her for looking out for her friend. She doesn't know me. Nor my intentions.

"Candy," Josephine mumbles. I've noticed she gets embarrassed easily.

"I'm staying here for a little while." I decide on saying, my eyes on Josephine.

Josephine and Candy—cute nickname, by the way—have a conversation with their eyes.

When she looks at me again, she extends her arm to me. "Your driver's license."

I hand it to her without resistance. She's much more serious now than she was last time I saw her at Lusso. But she had a lot of alcohol in her system that night, which explains her personality change.

"Just because you're handsome doesn't mean you're not a murderer like Ted Bundy." She says loud enough for me to hear as she examines my card.

Josephine sighs next to me and I give her a smile, telling her I don't mind.

She snaps a picture of the document, then hands it back to me.

"If she goes missing, you're the first to blame." She tells me before leaning down to whisper something in Josephine's ear. She nods, then her cheeks redden, and she pushes her away while laughing.

Anaya gives her a quick hug, then gives me an apologetic smile, waves at us before they both walk away.

"We're all protective of each other." She explains.

"It's good to surround yourself with people who care about you."

"Yeah." She grins, scooting closer on her stool. Making her outer thighs touch my inner legs. I try not to let her closeness affect me, but it's hard when her scent invades my nostrils, taking control of my senses. She smells like the beach and strawberries.

And strawberries are my favorite fruit.

I subtly clear my throat.

"Anya and I were roommates in college. She's also a nurse." She talks. "And Candy, we met second year of college when she sat next to us during a lecture."

My brows furrow. She was wearing a suit, holding a folder in her hand, so I thought she was in real estate.

"She's also a nurse?"

"No." She chuckles. "Half way through the lecture, she grabbed her stuff and walked out. The prof asked her where she was going. And she said she's changing her major because she didn't like the professor."

Can't say I'm surprised she said that.

"We saw her a week later," she resumes speaking. "We thought she was cool and had to know how she had the nerves to say that. But guess what?"

"What?" She got me invested in how she met Candice. I'm resting my chin on my fist with my body leaned forward.

"Apparently, she was in the wrong lecture. And she didn't want to admit to 200 plus people that. So she lied."

We both laugh.

Hearing her talk passionately about her friend and how cool she thinks she is, is really endearing.

"She's really bold." I say while chuckling.

"Oh, she gets worse." She shakes her head, her lips stretched in a smile.

After a while, I glance at my watch and see that more than an hour had passed since her friends went home.

In that hour, she told me a few stories about Candice, some about Ananya. She explained a few tattoos of hers. I love how she talks about each one like it's her only one. Or like it's her favorite.

She checks her phone quickly, then looks at me. "This was really fun. But I better head home. I have work tomorrow morning."

"Let's go." I stand up and offer her my hand so she can jump down from her chair. Yes, jump down, because she's like five foot two and barstools are pretty high.

Quickly checking my phone, I see Mateo sent me a message a few hours ago.

Matty boy: saw you flirting with that pretty lady and didn't want to interrupt. Just wanna let you know I'm heading home.

I chuckle to myself.

When we reach my truck, I open the door for her and grab her waist to help her get inside.

"Thanks." She mutters, her fingers toying with the seat belt.

I dangle my arm on top of the door, watching her attempting to get the seat belt in place, amused. After a few tries, she huffs and looks up at me. "Is this even legal?"

"It is." I confirm, taking the seat belt from her hands. Our fingers brush each other, sending a little tingling sensation up my arm. I quickly secure her seat belt, the smell of her shampoo making my head fuzzy.

When I get behind the steering wheel, I put on my seat belt in under a second. When I glance at her while giving her my phone so she can put her address in, I see she's looking at my arm that doesn't have the cast.

"Can you put in your address?" My voice pulls her gaze to my face, then to my outstretched phone.

"Oh. Yeah, right." She types away, then hands it back to me. After setting it in its place, I pull out of my parking spot.

She doesn't hesitate to turn the radio on, messing with it until she settles on a radio that's playing Michael Jackson's 'Smooth Criminal.'

We look at each other at the same time, smiling.

"Good choice." I say.

She bobs her head to the beat, her lips moving with the lyrics. Mine do too at some point. Just like the last time I gave her a ride.

Her house is in the same route as mine. When we reach the location, I shut off the car and glance at her.

"We need to stop meeting so randomly." I say, a corner of my lips lifting.

She nods, chuckling. "Yeah."

I turn my body to the side, clearing my throat. Without overthinking it, I say, "Can I take you out? For dinner, or lunch. Or coffee. Maybe for a stroll? We can even go bowling. Whatever you like."

Fuck. This is embarrassing. She can definitely tell I have zero experience with asking girls out. I never had to. For senior year of high school, I went to prom with my friends as a group. When I'm in a club, there's usually no talking involved.

"Sure." She said, slightly surprising me.

"Okay." I nod. "Uhm." I swallow. "Can I have your number, then? You know, to let you know when and where."

"Of course. Give me your phone."

She puts her number on my phone and hands it back.

"When are you free this week?" I ask.

"Wednesday and Thursday. But Thursday I'm having dinner with my family."

"Great." I nod. Then stop after nodding one too many times. "I'll plan something then."

"Make it fun." She teases. I huff a laugh as I get out of the car, because it's getting hot being in a tiny compartment with her, and go to her side to help her with the seat belt and out of the car.

"What floor are you on?" I ask. The building we're standing in front of has eight.

"First."

"Should I walk you up?"

"It's alright. I'll wave at you from my living room when I'm inside."

"Okay. Good." I nod.

Stop with the nodding, dumbass.

She takes a step forward and gives me a small wave. "Okay, see you Wednesday."

"Yeah. I'll pick you up." I don't know if she has a car, but I enjoy riding with her too much to pass up an opportunity.

"Okay." She smiles and walks inside her building. My training in the army comes in handy when my eyes don't lower to her ass.

After a minute, the curtains in the apartment on the first floor move and I see her figure. She gives me a thumbs up and I wave before getting inside the car and driving away.

Now all I have to do is come up with an activity for us to do that doesn't leave room for any awkwardness.

No pressure at all.