Innocence

by Lucy St. John

Chapter 22

  Once again, I had avoided discussing myself and my own screwed-up love life. It was another dodge, but it wouldn’t last. They never do.

  Our circle of sharing on that early Saturday evening gave way to the five of us getting ready for yet another party off campus. A friend of a friend had an apartment, and her roommate was old enough to buy beer and booze. The party itself would prove unremarkable. A mere beer blur in a haze of so many such gatherings across our college careers. The Five of us came, we saw, we sipped some beer and wine and we left – all as a group. There is strength in numbers, and together, the five of us were a small but formidable army. Nothing could defeat us.

  That cool, mid-October night should have never ended. It was that perfect. Perfect weather. Perfect friends. A nice, little buzz. And walking in the small town toward our favorite pizza shop for a slice and a Coke to cap off another Saturday night was just what the doctor ordered.

  Our heels clicked off the sidewalk as the whole of the campus seemed to be out on the streets. People were going and coming from the bars, which would be closing soon. They were pouring into the all-night diners, the convenience stores and our personal favorite, the Bartoli Bros. Pizza Shop.

  The slices were fresh from the oven. The Italian guys working the counter and the kitchen were young and handsome, with muscled arms, mischievous grins and dark eyes that weren’t shy about staring back.

  I liked flirting with one of the guys there. I would look at him, and he would stare right back, his desire for me so naked and raw. It would be me who would always look away. But not tonight. Something in the air, the beer, in the night itself, spurred me on. Or maybe it was the afterthoughts from our earlier conversation about men – and my decidedly boring non-boyfriend.

  Whatever it was, I felt emboldened. Plus, I was horny. Horny as hell, as a matter of fact. And as Sonya flung open the door and we fell into line near the counter, I looked around until I saw him, pulling out another piping hot pie from the oven, then slicing it up to be served.

  I didn’t even know his name. I thought of him as my Pizza Man. Once, Lauren caught me staring at him and him staring back. She made some snide comment. And then Sonya joked, calling him Guido, or something like that. And she teased about how he was probably dumb as a stump but hung like a horse, and I should go for it. I should get some action that my John Lennon look-alike was too cerebral to provide.

  For all his smarts, Alec just couldn’t see what was right in front of him. Namely, me and my needs.

  That night, I kept my eyes locked on my Pizza Man. His movements were graceful – flipping the dough high in the air, using the long wooden arm to feed pies in and out of the oven and dancing around the other workers to bring fresh pies to the serving counter. He was lean and compact. Not too tall, not too short. He wore a white, sauce-stained apron over tight jeans that showed his muscular ass. The black, logo-emblazoned T-shirt hugged his pecs, and the short sleeves highlighted his biceps. But it was his face, dark and smooth and open, that drew me in. He had deep-set, smoky eyes underneath thick, dark brows and jet-black wavy hair.

  And when we worked our way to the counter, he noticed me. As he brought up another steaming pie, he paused to take our order.

  “What you have?” he said, his accent faint but his English less-than-stellar. He stared straight at me, even though Sonya was in front, her eyes poring over the various pies under glass. She glanced up at him and saw his stare fixed on mine. Sonya didn’t like being overlooked, and she rarely ever was.

  “Oh, it’s you,” she said, recognizing the guy from last time. He looked to be in his twenties, not much older than us. But instead of college, he was working a low-wage job. I think Sonya looked down on him for this. But I didn’t. I just looked at him. I could have watched him all night long.

  “You like making moon eyes at my friend, don’t you?” Sonya said, trying to toy with him. “You like?”

  My Pizza Man never broke his stare. He acted as if Sonya wasn’t even there. It had to kill her.

  “For you?” he asked me.

  “What’s your name?” I asked.

  “Dante,” he said. “And you?”

  “Monica.”

  “When the moon hits the sky like a big pizza pie…” Sonya began singing, very loudly in fact. Then, Lauren began giggling. Others in line were growing impatient. Most were buzzed to begin with, so it wasn’t a long trip.

  “Monica,” he said, blocking out everything. “I like your name.”

  “Oh, God,” Sonya said, then made the universal gagging symbol, sticking a finger into her open mouth. “I think I just lost my appetite. This is a bad version of Moonstruck.”

  “Yours too,” I said.

  Our stare was unbreakable. Around us, the whole pizza shop was swirling with commotion, but it was just us in that room.

  “Sit with your friends,” he said. “I bring it out to you.”

  “We didn’t even order,” Sonya protested.

  “Something special,” he said. “Specialty of the house. Sit. I bring you drinks.”

  “Diet,” Sonya insisted.

  “Sure,” Dante agreed. “Anything. Sit.”

  Dante danced out from behind the counter and walked us to our table. He pulled out the chair for me, then pushed it in as I sat down. As I did, he leaned down and whispered in my ear.

  “I’m off soon,” he said. “You want, I take you home.”

  His deep voice and his hot breath sent shivers down my spine, along with pleasurable tingles down there.

  I turned and found myself face-to-face with him. Our eyes locked and our mouths were inches apart. I felt a gravitational field between us. I had an impulse, a strong one, just to kiss him. To push my hungry lips into his thick, red mouth.

  Instead, I froze. But I had my voice.

  “Yes,” I said. “I want.”

  He nodded, then smiled but only from on corner of his mouth. His mischievous grin aroused me even more. It promised much, that grin. And it nakedly exposed this man’s passion for me.

  In other words, it was something I had never seen on Alec Keegan’s face. But seeing it now on Dante’s dark, handsome features, I knew that this was what I wanted. What I wanted, what I needed, what I craved. Namely, feeling desired. Desired by a man who was unashamed to show it.

  A hum began building between my legs. It felt wonderful.

  “I be right back,” he said, his breath hot in my face.

  “Okay,” I said.

  And when he left, Sonya started in again.

  “The waiter?” Sonya said. “You actually have a thing for the waiter?”

  Her voice was loud, and even though the place was packed, I felt self-conscious.

  “Shhh,” I admonished. “He’s going to hear you.” I looked around and saw Dante putting drinks on a tray. He looked back at me and smiled.

  “Who cares?” Sonya shouted even louder now. “He’s a waiter. Hello! We’re in college. There are like, thousands of guys around. You don’t need to pick up a waiter.”

  Dante walked up to the table, expertly balancing the tray in one hand and placing the drinks before each of us.

  “The pizza is coming,” he said, smiling at me. “House special. Very good.”

  “I’m sure it is,” Sonya said. “But I think my friend here is more interested in your pepperoni.”

  I wanted to die. I elbowed Sonya under the table.

  “Yes,” Dante said, not picking up on the American double entendre. “There is pepperoni. Very good.”

  “Hmm,” Sonya kept going. “I don’t know how good that really is. On second thought, pepperoni is kinda skinny. Not enough girth, if you know what I mean. I’m more of a sausage girl, myself. Something you can really get your mouth around. Or even better, salami. Yeah! Salami! Big fat salami!”

  I wanted to slide right under the table. “Sonya,” I hissed under my breath.

  “Salami,” Dante repeated. “Yes, I bring salami just for you. So maybe you shut
up. Okay?”

  And at this, the rest of the girls laughed. The dumb waiter that Sonya dissed had just given it right back to her.

  I broke a smile, too. And I nervously shifted my eyes to him. I didn’t want him to think I was in on making fun of him.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, my voice hushed, my face scarlet red.

  He shook his head.

  “No,” he said. “I like you. I don’t care about your rude friend.”

  Dante spoke as if Sonya weren’t there. I loved that about him, because I knew Sonya hated this.

  “Just get our pizza, pal,” Sonya snapped. “We’re hungry.”

  “Pizza,” he repeated. “Coming right up. And fat salami just for you, right?”

  We all laughed. Everyone but Sonya, who steamed and stewed. And when Dante noticed her discomfort, he laughed, too. And that set off a new round among us girls. I watched him as his handsome face morphed into a boyish, playful grin. And it made me feel good. He wore all his emotions on his sleeve, this man. I liked that about him, because I never had the strength to do the same. And we always admire in others what we lack in ourselves, don’t we?

  The pizza was a sumptuous feast of melty cheese, tangy sauce and a mix of meats and veggies piled high atop a wonderful crust. We ate and laughed and talked. And the night could have gone on forever, as the pulsating college campus streamed by us outside the shop window.

  I tried to take in all of it. You know, soak up the moment? But as my eyes moved from the faces of my friends and wandered around the restaurant packed with college students seeking pizza to soak up some of the alcohol they’d drunk, they couldn’t help returning to him. To Dante. And seemingly every time my eyes found him, working the busy counter or tending the hot oven constantly spitting out pies, he was looking back. Boldly. Unashamed. And with desire.

  So when it came time to leave, and everyone threw in a few bucks onto the table, I hung back. I offered to stick around and pay, then catch up to everyone later. But Sonya called me on it. She called me on it right away. She always did.

  “Someone’s still hungry for Italian,” Sonya snarked. The rest of the Five weren’t sure how to react.

  “It’s late,” Amanda said. “I don’t know if I like the idea of you being on your own. This is how bad things happen.”

  “She’s right,” Lauren added. “You can see the waiter-dude another time.”

  I must have looked stricken, standing together with the money in my hand, glancing among the faces of my friends, all of which radiated concern for me. Their advice made sense, it really did. And in light of events to come, it was spot-on. But then I turned to Dante, and he was standing frozen in front of the oven, watching me. When our eyes met, he nodded, then smiled. It was the warmest, kindest smile. And my mind was made up. It turned back to the Five.

  “I’ll be fine,” I said. “You guys go on ahead.”

  They all stared back at me, not saying a word. Concern poured from their eyes, but they could see in mine that my mind was made up.

  “You have your mobile?” Amanda said, raising her iPhone from her pocket. I palmed my pocket for my own phone.

  I nodded. “Yes.”

  “Keep it on and call me if you need anything,” Amanda said. “I mean it. You never know who’s a wanker around this place. Looks can be deceiving.”

  I nodded again. “I will.”

  And with that, I had taken my stand. I had made my decision.

  For better or for worse, I was determined to explore this deep, dark college night with my own dark prince, Dante Bartoli, the attractive, muscled employee at our favorite pizza shop.

  Standing there, watching my friends file out of the shop now beginning to slow down, I felt a heady mix of fear, adventure and sexual longing. But most of all, it was the tremendous excitement of knowing that anything – I mean anything – could happen next.