Page 44 of XOXO

I stared at our conversation wanting to talk to him so badly.

“Matteo!” My sister yelled. “Are you almost ready?”

“Yeah!” I yelled back. “Just gotta put some clothes on.”

“Ten minutes!” she yelled. “You better be ready!”

“I will!” I yelled, getting annoyed.

I had my perfect excuse.

Me: Good, about to go out with Paola.

I set my phone down to get ready, choosing tailored pants and a button-down for dinner and the club Paola was dragging me to. My phone pinged again. The urge to pick up the phone was strong. I missed my best friend.

“You ready?” My sister said in Italian, standing at the door dressed in a sleek black dress and heels that looked dangerously tall.

“You look beautiful,” I said, putting my watch on.

“I’m always beautiful,” she said, spinning.

“Of course,” I said, spraying some cologne.

“Come on, we will be late,” she said, walking away.

Her heels clicked loudly on our floors. I grabbed my jacket to follow her. Milan had some of the best nightlife. There was always something going on and my sister had managed to snag a table at a trendy restaurant that we had been dying to go to. Paola also demanded we go dancing, it had been a while since we had gone out together and she preferred going out with me in case men got too handsy. I was ready to lose myself in alcohol and someone else. It had been weeks since I had taken someone home. A good fuck would make me forget…at least that’s what I was telling myself.

Dinner was great. The food, the drinks and the constant chatter from my sister soothed me. She was loud and rambunctious as she told me about her trip to England and the Netherlands.

Once it was an acceptable time, we left the restaurant, heading over to Club 52. It was one of the newer bars opened by a man named Saint. He had been opening clubs all over Europe with his wife and they were stunning.

The music was loud as we walked into the beautiful club that had bars lit up in a very speakeasy way. The VIP section had velvet sofas with soft lighting that felt like it was meant for Mafia bosses to conduct dirty business dealings.

Paola grabbed my hand, leading me to the bar where an attractive woman was making drinks for half of the bar while her coworker worked on the other side. We flagged her down and as she walked to us her eyes lingered on me.

“What can I get you?” she yelled in Italian.

“My sister will have a Hugo and I’ll have a High West neat,” I yelled back.

Being away from home for too long, I always missed speaking Italian. The bartender winked, grabbing the liquor for our drinks. I caught Paola rolling her eyes, shaking her head. She and my mother consistently teased me about my constant flirting.

“I hope the drinks are free!” Paola yelled as I shook my head.

“Doubt it,” I yelled, looking around as I bobbed my head to the song.

The bartender handed our drinks to us and I handed my card to her. She swiped it, bringing it back quickly.

“Grazie, Matteo!” she winked again, handing me back my card.

Paola raised her brow at me.

“I can’t help it,” I said as she rolled her eyes, slapping my shoulder.

“Come on, chug and let’s dance!” She downed her drink, setting it on the bar, leaving me to shoot my whiskey.

I should have ordered tequila if I knew it was going to be a shot instead of a drink. The burn from the alcohol was rough as I followed Paola to the dance floor. She had her hands up and was moving to the music as I reached her. The alcohol was enough to loosen me up to dance. I wasn’t the biggest fan of dancing, but this is what Pao and I did.

We danced to a few songs; the music was perfect, the whiskey was making me loose and limber. It was enough to forget about Levi and my weekend at the festival. Paola and I stopped for another drink before going back to the dance floor. My mind was numb, Dierniere Danse’s remix was playing and all I needed was a girl to lose myself in tonight.