Count

3. Seriously, Those Cheekbones Could Cut Glass

"Be safe, girl," Katie said, giving me a tight hug. "Count your drinks. And text me constantly. I want updates every half hour, or I'll assume something terrible has happened and I'll have no choice but to fight your mystery man."

"Hopefully you won't have to fight anybody," I replied, grabbing my bag and double-checking that I had everything I needed. Phone. Wallet. Travel makeup kit. And a few accessories that I could don if I needed to spice up my outfit.

Since I had no idea what sort of restaurant Sergio was taking me to, I was wearing a simple black dress and flats, and my hair flowed freely around my shoulders. Hopefully I looked pretty but informal enough not to draw attention if we ended up going someplace casual. In case the venue required a fancier getup, I was bringing along a pair of sleek black heels, some jewelry, and a wrap that I could toss on in a moment.

I took the Tube to the bookstore as per usual, arriving five minutes before eight. Sergio was already there, leaning against the brick outside the shop. His eyes traveled up and down my body as I crossed the parking lot. They glinted with an emotion I couldn't identify.

"Hi," I said lamely. The crisp night wind blew a strand of hair into my face, and I tucked it behind my ear.

He greeted me with a kiss on the cheek, having to bend down a ways to reach. "Hello."

I took in his stylish outfit with dismay. He was dressed to the nines in a suit and tie, complete with a tie clip and glinting watch. His midnight hair was slicked back, stark against his pale skin.

"I'm underdressed," I noted.

"Indeed, but the fault is mine. I should have better communicated with you."

"No worries," I said. "Just give me a moment." I set the bag on the ground and rummaged through it for the stilettos and white wrap. Hands in his pockets, Sergio watched curiously as I switched shoes and pinned on silver teardrop earrings and a matching necklace.

Finally, I removed an elegant black purse from the simple bag and tucked everything else, including the original bag, into it. "Ta-da," I said.

"That was artfully done," Sergio complemented. He offered me his arm. "Shall we?"

"The power of a little black dress," I said. I slipped my arm into his and let him lead me to his car, a black Corvette. He opened the passenger door for me before entering the driver's side. As he pulled the car into the street, I shot Katie a quick text letting her know I was with Sergio, heading out.

She sent back a thumbs-up emoji.

Sergio and I drove in silence for a few minutes, each waiting for the other to make the first move. Finally, I cleared my throat and asked, "So where are we going?"

"An Italian restaurant. In my opinion, the best in London."

"Are you Italian?" His accent had been nagging me as I tried to place it.

"I am." He slowed the car into a turn, and there was another pause. "If you don't mind my asking, are you Chinese?"

"Japanese," I corrected. It was a common mistake. People thought every East Asian person was Chinese.

"Ah. Watashi no machigai o yurushitekudasai."

I gaped at him, dumbfounded. "Um, I don't actually know Japanese. I was raised in America, and so were my parents. I've only been to Japan a few times."

"I see. I said, 'Please forgive my mistake,' and now I must say it again."

"It's fine. I can't believe you speak Japanese. Where did you learn it?"