Page 21 of The Great Dating Fake Off
“It looks like an Olive Garden commercial in here,” she replies with a giggle.
Benji sucks in a scandalized breath. “Don’t let anyone hear you say that. Especially my grandfather. Santino’s Place is Olive Garden’s biggest competitor in Long Island.”
“Sorry.” Nora taps her lips with her finger, shushing herself.
Yep, she’s had plenty to drink this evening.
I’m mulling over what her drink of choice might be when Alessia links her arm with mine. Tension radiates from her body as she scans the crowd.
“Relax.” I angle her toward me like we’re sharing a private lovebird moment. “I’m sure no one is paying attention to us.”
Benji fixes his studious gaze on Alessia and me. His drunken cogs appear to be turning. “Should we stand like them, Nora? Do you want my face near your hair?”
Nora pats him on the shoulder. “They’re competing in the Olympics. We’re just trying to survive in the game.”
Alessia’s eyes widen, and her gaze snaps from the crowd to me. “You know what? Forget cocktail hour. We’ve got perfectly good liquor in the room, and we’re still an hour out from dinner. Let’s take an intermission.”
I do a double take. “Huh? You want to bail?”
“The bartender is swamped, and I want drinks.” She casts a nervous look over her shoulder, and then gestures at Benji and Nora. “Do you two want to come?”
Nora looks to Benji. “What do you think?”
Benji’s sights are already set on the door. “I think I’d rather be anywhere than here.”
Alessia grabs my hand. “Jailbreak it is.”
Benji and Nora stick close to our side as we move toward a set of double doors. As we exit, we’re greeted by a quiet stretch of lobby and a large trickling fountain with a stone fox in the center of a round basin.
Alessia eagerly shoots toward the elevators, dragging me along.
I use our handholding to my advantage and force her to slow down. “Not that I’m complaining, but why the sudden urgency—”
A familiar scratchy voice chases us out the door. “Rossi, what the hell?”
Chapter Six
Sebastian
“Alessia, same question.”
All four of us come to an abrupt halt and turn around.
The copy-paste male version of Alessia stares back at us, arms crossed.
Enzo Mazzelli, perplexed-looking groom.
He’s trimmed his facial hair and styled his short black hair with product. His charcoal suit is well-tailored, his shoes are Gucci, and his demeanor screams man of the hour.
All this from the dude who used to wear mismatched clothes to school and Sharpie drawn “tattoos” of Manga characters on his skin when we were kids.
We haven’t spent much time together since I got back to Great River last year—he’s been completely off the radar dating Rosalina in secret so their families didn’t find out—but he’s still like family to me.
“Hey Z,” Alessia all but squeaks, releasing my hand. “Didn’t see you in there.”
“What are you talking about? We made eye contact, and then you took off.”
“We did? Huh.” She jabs a thumb over her shoulder. “Anyway, love the suit. We were just running a quick group errand.”
