«We'll get him falling for a stranger.»
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She looked to the empty seat on her right, then at her phone to corroborate the time. Irina was late. Like, seriously late. More than usual late. The only reason they weren't worried and organising a search party all over Milan for her was that earlier when both Salma and Sloane arrived at the restaurant, Irina had so thoughtfully taken her time to text a very rushed and incomprehensible string of words along the lines of: am fine will be late. phone is dying. need to figure out where i am. but night was good. bye xx.
Thumbs up and smiley face included. How nice of her, she sarcastically thought after reading the message.
The sound of Sloane setting her phone back onto the table forced her to glance at the Dutch girl. Irina would arrive at some point, hopefully. Whatever.
"Sorry, Max is arriving in Milan tonight for Lorenzo's show this weekend so he was letting me know the details." Sloane smiled in that very dopey-kinda-dazzled way she usually did when she talked about her boyfriend.
Max this, Max that. Those two were a bit sickening sometimes. In her opinion. "Your walking Red Bull ad of a boyfriend will be attending a fashion show?" She raised an eyebrow, a hint of mockery in her tone. "What is this? The end of fashion?"
Her friend slightly narrowed her eyes, the smile still plastered on her lips nevertheless. "He's very supportive, come on. I think it's cute." Sloane snorted, followed by a dreamy sigh. "It's the first time in a while I've decided to do runway, it's...I don't know...nice that he wants to be there for me? It's usually only Vivianne, and Aurora when she'd gotten the opportunity." Her cheeks took a rosy colour. Salma wasn't very impressed but to each their own. "And I picked his outfit for the occasion. No Red Bull shirts are allowed in Lorenzo's line of sight anyway. Don't worry."
"Good. His fashion sense hurts my eyes sometimes."
"Personally, I think he looks very attractive all the time." Salma had been through heartbroken Sloane and infatuated Sloane, but this was the first time she had to deal with seriously in love Sloane. She grimaced, and her friend covered a chuckle with her closed fist. "Speaking of fashion shows though..." The words were left open in the air. Sloane tapped her fingers on the table and scanned her face, lips pursing a little in intrigue. "How did you manage to arrive before me at the hotel yesterday? You didn't have any issues finding a taxi? Because I swear, after the Ferragamo thing there was nothing available. Eleonora and I had to share a car when we finally found one."
Little memories of her very excruciating thirty-five minutes sitting in Pierre Gasly's car flashed through her mind. Not like a nice throwback, not at all. The guy, despite promising that he would shut up had talked the whole ride to her hotel, even when she barely replied with one-word answers and threw him glares at each red light. He talked to her as if they were mates, which they weren't close to ever be, according to her.
She shrugged one shoulder and glanced down at the menu. "I got offered a ride from someone."
Before Sloane could open her mouth to ask who and dig more, a glimpse of Irina rushing through the restaurant doors and squeezing quickly in between tables deflected their attention. The girl apologised in a mix of English and basic Italian when she hit an old lady with her purse as she tried to reach their table at record speed. The smell of Nivea Men that came from Irina the moment she passed behind her chair was nauseating.
Irina finally took a seat and the rambling began. "I know, I know, I'm late," She met her gaze. "And I smell like men's shampoo, I'm aware of that as well, but at least it's not cheap Old Spice." Still awful. No justification. "I lost track of time. It was a really good night, you know?" The blonde waggled her eyebrows suggestively. Whilst Salma gagged, Sloane hummed impressed. "Did you already order? What did I miss? Are you two also feeling like you're buzzing or is it just me? I think I'm still drunk from yesterday."
