13: Renzo- Here

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things revealed over dinner — if only there was alcohol

****

I DIDN'T KNOW whether it was the sound of Mila's laugh or it was her smile that had me going weak. It never really occurred to me then, but as I sat across from her, I couldn't help but think I could get used to this.

This... happiness.

The bliss of being with someone.

I just wasn't able to wrap my head around it. Everything felt surreal...

Mila noticed my absentness throughout the entire dinner, having a curious gaze in her eyes but never asking what was wrong. I appreciated that she didn't ask, if anything, it only made my affections for her grow exponentially.

I looked around as we slowly finished our dinner: the lights in the dim diner, the sound of cars honking, and Mila's chattering about her day. The giggles that rarely slipped out of her mouth seemed like they were overflowing as she told the story about her friend.

I nodded along, answering every so often. Hanging onto her every word, I was in shock that she sat in front of me.

The smile on her face soon turned into a look of concern.

"Are you sure you're okay?" She scanned my face.

I laughed, "I'm sure."

"I don't believe you. I swear I thought you sounded fine when we talked earlier."

"Mila," I place my hand over hers. "It's fine, look, the food is here now too."

The waiter placed our food in front of us and Mila looked up at me again.

"Promise me you're fine," she picks up her fork.

I eye her utensil and her gaze goes to her fork. "Oh god, I'm not going to stab you Enzo."

"Just making sure," I chuckle.

"Shut up and eat."

With that, we quietly eat our food and make light conversation.

----

Just as we finished, Mila received a call. Glancing at the caller ID, her face distorted into an unpleasant expression that only led me to believe something was wrong.

"Who was it?" I ask, just as the server places the check on our table. She goes to grab before I quickly take it. Waving it, I say, "I'll pay today."

"It's fine," Mila smiles. "We can split it."

"No, I should pay today because I called you. Since this is a date, let me pay. You can pay for us next time." I take out my credit card and put it in the slip.

"You sure?"

"Positive," I answer. "Hey, if you want, tell me who called."

"It...it was my mom," she sighed.

"Why is that a bad thing?"

"We don't really have a good relationship. I mean, we never did, but after what happened to Raina, it went downhill from there." She took a brief look around the restaurant.

"Raina?" I question.

"My older sister," she replied. "She died a few years ago."

"Oh," I pause. "I'm sorry I shouldn't have asked."

"No, no." She hurried out. "It was a long time ago we couldn't have done anything, anyway."

Her phone buzzed again.

Mila has an apologetic look on her face and reads the text.

"It's my mom," she said as her eyes scanned the, what I presume, a long text.

"What does it say?"

"I have to go back to the Hamptons for a bit." She gritted out. Mila's angry look was one I had never expected to see this soon. It seemed as if she was ready to shatter her phone based on what her mom sent her. "God, I can't stand her."

"Do you have to go?' I ask.

"Yeah," she said. "My god awful mother thinks it's okay for me to go back to that destitute place to celebrate my birthday."

"Wait," I interrupt her. "Your birthday?"

"Yeah," she laughs, as if she forgot to tell me about it. "I'm turning twenty-two this weekend."

"Wow, right when winter break starts."

"I agree, it's honestly so convenient."

"We should celebrate though," I suggest to her.

Just then, our waiter comes back with my card- which I hadn't even noticed being taken. "Here you go, sir, enjoy the rest of your evening."

We thank him and get up. Putting our coats on, we notice snow falling outside.

"It looks beautiful," Mila beamed.

"It does, doesn't it?" I agree, keeping note that the tattered cashmere sweater I've been wearing for years won't keep me warm for the dropping temperature.

We walk outside, and the first thing Mila does it lace our fingers together.

"You seemed to be shivering," she looked up at me, a small smile gracing her face.

"Going back to before—" I say before being interrupted by a sharp, raucous voice.

"Milana Finley!" Across the road, a woman wearing expensive clothes adorned with lustrous accessories comes darting towards us.

"Mother?" Mila's face looked confused with a mix of embarrassment and anger.

"I told you multiple times to answer my text messages! I don't care what your answer is young lady, but we are going to the Hamptons whether or not you like it!"

She then notices our joined hands and looks at me. An expression of disgust clear on her face, she ignores me.

"I'll go," Mila said, a smirk slowing etching on to her face. "Only if Enzo comes with me."

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